Their Way

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. He is the wonderful creation of J.K. Rowling. I’m just playing here.

A/N: First things first. I wanted to send two big thanks out to a couple people. First to Petronilla, who saved me from giving up on fanfics. I hate speaking ill of other people, but when I first discovered fanfics, the first several I read (on another site) were so badly written, I almost gave up completely on reading any more of them. That was until I found her story Secrets From The Past. It was she who also introduced me to the wonderful world of Portkey. If you check out her story and like it, she is hard at work on the sequel, Secrets From The Future.

Second, but by no mean any less, is to my beta, MapleMountain. Without running on and on about how much I love his story Keeping a Promise, I wanted to say thank you for innocently suggesting to me that I write my own story. It may not seem like much, but it honestly had never occurred to me before to do so. THANK YOU, to both of you.

Finally, just a couple quick notes about the story itself. The first two chapters deal with Harry’s handling of Sirius’s death. Certainly not “light” reading. In fact, there are only six words spoken in the two chapters combined. After that, however, things will pick up as Harry rejoins the land of the living.

Second, this story is about them getting together. It’s how Harry goes from no obvious romantic feelings for Hermione at the end of Book 5 to where we all want them to be. One of my reviewers used the term “slow burn” to describe this. I like that. This is definitely a slow burn of a story. It takes him fifteen chapters just to realize his feelings. I wanted to see how he got there.

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Chapter 1. This is Going to be a Looonnnnng Holiday.

Harry Potter’s sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had started out OK, at least as good as could be expected after losing one’s godfather. The holiday before said school year was another story altogether.

To make a long story short, Harry had been tricked by his mortal enemy, the evil Lord Voldemort, into falling into a trap at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries, with five of his friends. The purpose of this trap was to obtain a small spun-glass sphere that was stored there, a record made sixteen years earlier of a prophecy describing the birth of one who would have the power to defeat Voldemort: Harry.

After escaping the trap, Harry and his friends were joined by members of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black was among them. In the fierce battle that ensued, Sirius was knocked back by a spell and fell through the Veil of Death, a stone archway with a mysterious veil that, for all intents and purposes, separated this world from the next. Just like that, Sirius was gone.

And so it was that Harry’s holiday that followed had threatened to become totally consumed by anger, guilt, and grief. Harry was being battered by profound waves of grief over the loss of his godfather. He could feel terrible pangs of guilt weighing down his stomach over the injuries sustained by the five friends who had accompanied him there on that fateful night. But holding all of it in check was his anger.

His anger was like a tightly focused beam of light, like that of an old fashioned lighthouse that swept out into the night and kept at bay the inky blackness of his grief and guilt. He was angry at himself for allowing it all to happen. He felt... he knew... that he could have... should have... been able to prevent it. If only he’d tried harder to learn Occlumency to block Voldemort from entering his mind. If only he’d believed Hermione when she’d suggested it might just be a trick to lure him there. If only he hadn’t let his friends follow him there. If only...

Every single night, his sleep was plagued by dreams, nightmares in which he was forced to relive those horrifying memories. Many nights, he watched Sirius fall in slow motion through the Veil of Death. He could clearly see the look of surprise on his face as he fell backwards.

When Harry’s mind felt like tormenting him even more, Sirius would turn his head and look directly at Harry as he fell, the look of surprise seeming to ask, “How did this happen, Harry?” And Harry always knew the answer: because he didn’t prevent it. Occasionally, Harry even chased after Sirius as he fell, but he always seemed to wake up right as got close enough to touch the Sirius or the veil.

Sometimes, instead of watching Sirius fall, he would watch his friends being injured, one by one, in their battle at the DOM... Luna lying unconscious on the floor after being thrown against a desk, Ginny lying unconscious with her broken ankle, Neville screaming in agony as Bellatrix Lestrange, one of Voldemort’s most faithful Death Eaters, used the Cruciatus Curse on him.

As bad as it was to see them hurt, it was even worse watching what happened to his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. During the battle, Ron had been hit by something that made him laugh at everything. When they were in a room containing a tank filled with what looked like brains, he (thinking it’d be funny) summoned one of them to him. When he touched it, the tentacles of thought that had been trailing behind it started to wrap around him, threatening to suffocate him.

And then there was Hermione. He would watch her fall as the purple flame of Dolohov’s curse struck her. Even now, he could still feel the warmth in her shoulder after he had dropped to her side, though at the time it hadn’t really registered because of the sheer sense of panic that enveloped him as he thought, Don’t let her be dead, don’t let her be dead, it’s my fault if she’s dead...

Those words had become as ingrained in his mind as if he had screamed them aloud with all his strength. Of course since this was a nightmare, his mind always conveniently neglected to include the part where Neville told him that she still had a pulse and the overwhelming sense of relief that followed.

All of their injuries, all of their pain... it was all because of Harry. The odd thing about these dreams however, was that deep down Harry knew that Voldemort had nothing to do with these dreams. He could feel it. Even more, he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Whatever Voldemort was doing (probably trying to figure out what to do after the arrest of so many Death Eaters that night), he had more important things to do that torture Harry by forcing him to relive those moments again and again. No, these dreams were coming up all on their own. Why would Voldemort need to torture Harry when he was perfectly able to do it himself?

About a week into Harry’s annual exile to number four, Privet Drive, each of his friends who had accompanied him to the Department of Mysteries that night sent Harry a letter. They all thanked him for saving their lives by teaching them how to fight and defend themselves during their D.A. meetings. They all swore that they would have followed him there no matter what, and it was only because of him that they were still alive today.

While the letters did nothing to make him feel better, they also did nothing to make him feel worse. Harry had already decided that their injuries were his fault, so their reminders that they were with him, that they had been injured while they were with him, really didn’t make him feel any worse that he already was. It merely confirmed to him that he deserved what he was feeling.

The five letters had arrived over the course of two days. The only thing he did feel in regards to their letters was a slight amusement in seeing how different yet similar they were. Reading them, he was quite sure that they had not told each other that they were writing to him. It wasn’t that they were keeping it secret from each other; Harry just somehow knew that it was something that each of them had all decided to do on his or her own, without discussing it with the others. And yet, each of his friends in their letters had said almost exactly the same things, each in their own way.

Ron’s letter was so Ron, short on emotion, with a few Quidditch references here and there. Ginny’s was full of the same fiery determination and spirit he’d come to expect from her as well as from the Weasley family matriarch.

The letter from Neville had to be the perfect embodiment of him. There was so much untapped potential lurking in his words that he could quite possibly become a phenomenal writer with the proper encouragement. It also, unfortunately, demonstrated his dreadful memory, as the letter started to wander a bit on near the end; he actually repeated a couple of things twice.

Luna’s letter was probably the strangest thing he’d ever read in his entire life, even stranger than some of the more colorful articles in The Quibbler. And yet, buried within with her entirely unrelated analogies and references to the Crumple-Horned Snorkack was the same thanks and praise he had read in the first three letters.

As he read her letter a second time (seeing as how the first time he had to stop after each sentence to figure out what she was saying), Harry thought briefly back to “That Night” (as he had taken to calling it) and was actually... not unhappy... that she, of all people, was there with the others.

Harry recalled the night of the end-of-term feast when he ran into Luna posting signs asking for the return of the things people had taken from her. She had told him about the death of her mother and how she wasn’t worried about never seeing her again. She referred to the voices that Harry was sure he had also heard coming from just behind the veil.

If Sirius was now one of those voices behind the veil, maybe Harry would find him there waiting for him when he... He remembered how though he had no desire to talk about Sirius at the time, he didn’t seem to mind her talking about him. Perhaps it was because that she too had seen death, in her case the death of her mother. Even now, he again felt a tiny bit better simply remembering how back then he’d felt slightly better after considering what Luna said and the possibilities it suggested.

But alas, Harry’s storm of anger and despair soon returned after Luna’s letter joined the other three in his dresser drawer. Considering how everyone else had sent him a letter, he was sure there was bound to be a fifth letter anytime now.

Although Hedwig had gone out hunting, he realized he would not at all be surprised if she somehow came back with a letter attached to her leg in addition to a frog in her beak. This would be the letter he was most and least looking forward to: Hermione’s letter.

Harry was actually looking forward to Hermione’s letter because he knew that she always seemed to know exactly what to say to make him feel better or help understand whatever it was he was trying to figure out. By the same token though, it was also the letter he was least looking forward to because if there was any one person in the world who would be able to convince him to talk about Sirius, it was her. And right now, he felt that he was just not yet ready to talk about that... with anyone.

Sure enough, a few hours later right after sunset, Hedwig returned with something small and furry dangling from her beak and a piece of parchment tied to her leg. Even from across the room, as Hedwig stood on his desk waiting expectantly for him to remove his delivery so she could enjoy her dinner, he could see his name written on the parchment; he instantly recognized the handwriting.

As he started untying it, he could already start reading the letter in his mind. He knew exactly what she was going to say before he even opened it. There was even one sentence that, word for word, was exactly how he expected it.

To his great surprise however, he was wrong about one thing. Hermione made no mention of Sirius. As Harry wondered why Hermione hadn’t brought up Sirius, it soon dawned on him that neither had any of the others (he went back through everyone’s letters just to be sure).

Not a single one of them mentioned Sirius or anything about what had happened in the Death Chamber in their letters. He’d half expected each of them to mention Sirius one way or another in their letters. It puzzled him that he didn’t notice that they hadn’t mentioned Sirius until he saw that it wasn’t where he most expected it to be.

After reading Hermione’s letter two more times just to check for words or phrases that Harry thought might be secret code for “Let’s talk about Sirius” (he found none), he went to put her letter away with the rest.

As he set Hermione’s letter down on top of the others, his mind again flashed back to That Night. He could see with great clarity how she fought that night, how at several points the two of them were practically side by side casting spells at the Death Eaters pursuing them.

He knew that if he ever had to pick just one person to stand at his side in a fight, someone he knew he would feel completely secure about trusting his life with, it was her. For all the talk of Albus Dumbledore being the greatest sorcerer alive (he himself had said something to that effect once or twice), Harry just no longer felt the same about him anymore.

The way in which Dumbledore and Harry’s last meeting had ended, the way in which Dumbledore himself admitted he’d made mistakes, it all deeply shook Harry’s confidence in his aged Headmaster. In a nutshell, it was simply that Dumbledore was no longer his most favorite person in the world. Now, Hermione was.

Yeahhhh, Harry thought to himself dryly, THAT didn’t come out the way it was supposed to. It wasn’t that Harry ever worried that Dumbledore would betray him in a fight or anything like that. It was just simply a matter of Dumbledore being knocked down a few pegs and no longer being the first person Harry thought of when it came to matters of trust. Much better, Harry thought, feeling a little more secure with that statement.

Harry was most displeased at how much vital information the Headmaster had withheld from him, information that most certainly would have made a difference in the way a great many things played out that year. Then, of course, there was the maelstrom that was the prophecy.

Honestly! Harry practically shouted in his mind. The timing of Dumbledore’s revealing of the contents just plain sucked, for lack of a better word. Less than half an hour after losing one of your last ties to your long-ago murdered parents was NOT the ideal time to also learn that it was your destiny to either be the murderer or victim of one of the most evil wizards in history.

Harry remembered asking Dumbledore if it was what the prophecy meant. Now, it was no longer a question. One of us has got to kill the other one ... in the end. Now, it was a statement, a truth. Destiny. Fate, Harry thought. Those were words that now had meaning to him, something that most witches, wizards, and Muggles could never truly understand.

Once he finally set Hermione’s letter down, he looked for a moment at the stack of five letters now in the dresser drawer. The pile was not stacked perfectly straight; he could see all five of them sitting at slightly different angles. Harry remembered back to when the six of them were arguing over who was and wasn’t going with Harry to the Ministry.

He recalled that at the time, he thought that if he’d had the chance ahead of time to choose who would accompany himself, Hermione, and Ron, he would’ve never chosen Neville, Ginny, and Luna. Now, he couldn’t imagine anyone else he’d rather have had with him than them... if he had to have someone with him, that is... since they’d insisted on following him, of course.

And then, that was it. As fast as those thoughts had appeared, they subsided just as quickly. As soon as the dresser drawer was closed and the letters out of sight, his previous mood returned. Since all five of them had let the matter of Sirius go unaddressed, Harry did too. He went back over to his bed, laid down, and returned to doing what had been doing before the letters arrived, which turned out to be very little of anything.

Several days later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Mr. Lovegood, and Neville’s grandmother all sent Harry letters similarly thanking him like their children had. Again, he knew each family had not talked to the others.

This time though, he could tell that the parents had discussed it with their children and had read the letters they sent him. And again, despite their words, the letters did little to change Harry’s mood. With little fanfare, the four new letters joined the five other tucked away in his dresser drawer.

Finally, after putting off writing replies to those letters for about another week, Harry received one more letter, a rather long one from Hermione. He had intended to write replies, if only to be polite, but he just seemed to never get around to it (not that he was doing anything else at the time).

Expecting yet another round of encouragement and praise, Harry was (very) briefly tempted to not even read it. However, seeing as how it was quite a bit longer than any of the others, he decided the least he could do was read it. He could always choose to ignore it later if he felt he needed to.

As he read, his anticipated sense of unfeeling indifference slowly changed to confusion as he tried to figure out exactly what she was saying... where her letter was going. Finally, it rapidly changed to anger once he realized exactly what she was saying. The entire letter was about Sirius, about Harry needing to deal with his godfather’s death.

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. He is the wonderful creation of J.K. Rowling. I’m just playing here.

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Chapter 2. The Tenth Letter.

Every word he read made him angrier and angrier. His first instinct was to tear her letter into a thousand pieces and use them to line Hedwig’s cage. His surging anger, however, seemed to make him oblivious to all reasonable courses of action (and at the moment, tearing up the letter seemed very reasonable). Like a spooked horse charging into a burning building, it blindly drove him to read on even further. This, of course, only served to make him even more upset the more he read.

Hermione stated in no uncertain terms that he had to come to terms with the fact that Sirius was gone. It was perfectly all right, natural in fact, to miss Sirius and grieve his loss. He was not allowed to blame himself for Sirius’s death however, she said. He had to accept and believe that Sirius’s death was not his fault. Not to his surprise, she of course reminded him who WAS to blame.

It was Voldemort, she said, who tricked Harry into going to the Department of Mysteries that night. It’s kinda funny, actually, Harry thought to himself, seeing his name written out again. I don’t think I’ve seen it since the Chamber of Secrets. Sure, Hermione and Dumbledore say it out loud, but in print, it always that ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ rubbish. It was Bellatrix Lestrange (Bitch!) who cast the spell that knocked Sirius back towards the... And of course he wasn’t allowed to forget about Lucius Malfoy and the rest of the Death Eaters.

Hermione seemed to go to great lengths to remind him how it was all of them who were the ones who were to blame for Sirius’s death. There was even a cryptic comment that almost anyone else would have thought nothing of, but Harry knew it was Hermione’s way of saying she felt that Dumbledore’s hands were not entirely clean of it either... not bloodied by any means, but certainly not clean.

As he read, he realized how impassioned, how forceful her words were. He was actually surprised she decided to write it all down in a normal letter rather than sending a Howler. As he read her words, his own inner voice angrily reading her words gradually changed to hers, complete with all the emotional emphases on certain words and dramatic pauses he knew she would have used had she been saying this directly to his face. He cringed at the thought that any Howler sent by Hermione would easily rival anything ever sent by Mrs. Weasley.

Her letter culminated in a detailed analysis (well, detailed by Harry’s standards... probably brief by hers) of the events of That Day, from the moment Voldemort sent him the vision of Sirius being tortured to the final moment when Sirius fell through the veil. It described in great detail every possible choice Hermione felt Harry could have made (and even a few he never would have thought of) and showed how they all resulted in Sirius’s death, one way or the other.

She even made a diagram of the chronology of the events with lines and boxes that mapped out the timeline of That Day. It showed how, as the saying went, all roads led to Rome. It was the Damned Bloody Sodding Flowchart of Death! If he wasn’t so miserable, he might even cry. Yes, crying would have been an improvement on what he was feeling.

Voldemort was singly determined, she said, to obtain the prophecy. Any possible hope Voldemort had to ever be able to “defeat” Harry (Oh thanks, Hermione! THAT word makes it SO much better...) depended entirely on knowing what the prophecy contained. Every encounter Voldemort had had with Harry resulted in, at best, merely being thwarted, and at worst, the destruction of his physical body.

Even if Harry had known for a fact that there was never any need for him to ever go to the Department of Mysteries (Thank you, Dumbledore!), Voldemort would have stopped at nothing until he got that prophecy. One way or another... sooner or later... he’d find a way to “encourage” Harry to come to the Department of Mysteries. And once Harry was there...

If Harry hadn’t been so absolutely furious with her at that moment, he would have written her a very short letter telling her exactly what he thought of her letter... two words probably. While he was quite capable of thinking of colorful pairs of words to less-than-subtly express his feelings, Harry was so furious that he couldn’t string together two complete thoughts. How dare she write something so... so... an analysis of why Sirius was destined to die!

But as it turned out, he was much too angry to write anything at all. He wanted to be alone right now (You are alone right now, you idiot!)... alone, even from his own thoughts. After reading the last sentence on the page, his hands went slack as he tried to tune out the rest of the world. The letter fell from his hand to the floor. Maybe he could use something from those insufferable Occlumency lessons, something that would help keep even him out of his own thoughts.

As it was starting to get dark outside, he turned out the lights, sat down on his bed, and then curled up into a little ball under his pathetic sheets and miserable little threadbare blanket. He hoped, he prayed, that when he woke up he’d find that this was all just a bad dream, that Sirius would be there waiting for him. If not, he’d be willing to settle on waking up to find that that letter—that proclamation of death—was only a nightmare he wouldn’t be able to remember.

Once Harry had finally become enveloped in the soothing calmness of unconsciousness, his restless mind once again resumed its nightly routine: replay, relive, remind, resign. Once again, Sirius was dueling with Bellatrix. He taunted her. She cursed him (Harry was never really sure what spell she had cast at Sirius). And he fell backwards, slowly, gracefully, in slow motion, towards that innocent looking veil that fluttered seductively in the still air as though there were a slight breeze or it had just been touched.

It seemed to take a long time for him to fall. Harry knew that when Sirius fell through, he would not reappear on the other side (in this world at least). And yet, each time he watched it, he always had a sense of anticipation, as though maybe, just maybe, this time he’d reappear as if he’d fallen through any other stone archway.

Sirius was still slowly falling backwards. Even though he was helpless to do anything about it, Harry thought nothing of how long it was taking for Sirius to fall. This was after all, a dream, and in dreams even the impossible can occur and seem as normal as anything else. As Sirius started to near the veil, Harry focused his attention on the veil as he waited for what he knew was going to happen, happen.

He stood there, his eyes transfixed on the ragged piece of cloth. The eerie fluttering had an almost hypnotic effect on him; he could not help but stare at it. Right as Sirius began to enter his tunnel vision on the veil, suddenly the veil changed from an ancient, tattered piece of fabric to a drawing, almost a cartoon version of itself. The folds of the fabric were replaced with intricately drawn lines; every nick, tatter, tear, and hole was replaced with a little box, circle, or other similar shape. Finally, fine lines of text in Hermione’s handwriting written vertically appeared and disappeared one line at a time across the face of the drawn veil, similar to the large electronic reader boards Harry remembered seeing on the Muggle side of King’s Cross Station. The scrolling effect made the drawn veil appear as if it too were fluttering in a slight breeze.

Harry turned his attention back to Sirius. The look of fear and surprise on Sirius’s face still had not faded away. When he looked at Harry, Sirius’s eyes locked intently on Harry’s, and he cocked his head slightly as if he were judging him, trying to make a decision. Whatever he was going to say, Harry never found out. As soon as Sirius opened his mouth to say something, he immediately changed into Hermione. Again, this being a dream, Harry found nothing unusual about the sudden change.

The moment he realized it was Hermione, as he had done with Sirius occasionally, he immediately started to chase after her, even though he knew he would not reach her in time. Right as she was about to reach the veil, she looked at him and repeated something from her letter, “You did everything you could. Sirius would not want you to treat yourself like this.”

The instant she touched the veil, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, woke up in his bedroom in Little Whinging, Surrey, shouting his best friend’s name, “HERMIONE!”

Harry sat up immediately and looked around his room. He could see Hedwig sitting on her perch. She opened her large amber eyes and stared at him reproachfully, as if to complain about him waking her up. “Sorry girl,” Harry whispered.

“Shrrmmrruummph muhhhllffump Pott...” The muffled grunts of Harry’s Uncle Vernon came from down the hall. Obviously he had heard Harry, but it must not have woken him up, since it was lacking the usual threats and expletives customary whenever one of Harry’s nightmares actually woke someone up.

He sat there for a few moments trying to collect himself; he wiped the cold sweat away from his forehead and neck. As his hand brushed the scar on his forehead, he was thankful that at least he was sure Voldemort again had nothing to do with the dream. He supposed to himself, however, that it didn’t make him feel any better either. As his sleepy brain struggle to engage, he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to remember what he had just witnessed.

Hermione... Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. Harry said her name to himself several times very quickly as he strummed his fingers on the mattress, trying to remember something. Something about Hermione... I was thinking about her because of something... As the fog of sleep slowly began to break up, Harry’s eye caught on something lying on the floor.

The light from the street lamp outside the house hit the ceiling and cast a dull glow in the room. It was barely bright enough for him to be able to see it, but... there it was. Harry’s lips pursed together tightly and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure as he remembered with distaste what exactly was lying on the floor there. Ah, yes... the letter. Oh bugger, it’s still here.

Harry looked over at his alarm clock. The glowing red LEDs told him it was 3:17AM. Actually, it didn’t really say 3:17 exactly since the ‘3’ looked like a backwards ‘C’ and the ‘1’ was only half of a ‘1.’ It seems that the clock (a birthday gift to Dudley from Aunt Marge) had been damaged when his cousin hit it because the alarm had woken him up. Since a free broken clock was cheaper that the cheapest clock money could buy, it was given to Harry so he could be sure to get up in time to make everyone else’s breakfast.

Seeing as how he was now fully awake, Harry decided he needed to do something other than stare at the ceiling until he felt he was ready to fall back to sleep. At first, Harry tried to ignore the pieces of parchment lying on the floor. He tried to forget everything Hermione had written. Unfortunately, he concluded, the damage had been done. She had done what she had probably intended to do all along: plant an idea in his mind that he would be unable to rid or ignore.

The harder he tried to banish those words from his mind, the more he found them entrenched. He half considered Obliviating himself to purge the unwanted thoughts, but he quickly decided against it, since he didn’t know how to properly use the spell. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up giving himself the Lockhart treatment and wiping everything; he had no intention of letting himself forget why Sirius had died.

For some unknown reason, Harry felt compelled to go over and pick up Hermione’s letter and read it again. The weak glow in the room was not bright enough to read by, but he didn’t dare turn on the light. The last thing he needed at this moment was someone to wake up to use the bathroom and see the light peeking out between the door and the carpet.

Sure, the Dursleys had gone out of their way to avoid starting any unnecessary rows with Harry after Moody’s little chat back at King’s Cross, but to blatantly tempt them by doing something so vile as to waste electricity by reading at night was more than he was willing to risk. Harry took the letter over to the window and held it up directly into the light of the street lamp coming through the window. It wasn’t exactly ideal reading conditions, but since his eyes were already adjusted to the dark, it was enough.

Maybe it was that he was secretly hoping the letter had somehow changed since the last time he read it. Maybe he just wanted to be doubly sure that what he knew was written in there was really written in there. That way, he could feel justified for what he was feeling about that letter. Whatever the case, Harry quickly confirmed that it was in fact still the same letter he had read earlier. Damn, he thought, more resigned than angry.

As he read, the crushing waves of grief, guilt, and anger came surging back. While grief by far made up the largest portion of the tumult that was Harry’s psyche, it was kept in check by his anger, that intense spotlight of emotion that was pointed directly at himself. He felt like he was lit up on stage, for all the world to see how he had failed his godfather.

Perhaps part of the problem was how exactly Sirius had died. Maybe it would have been easier if Sirius had just been killed outright with a simple Avada Kedavra killing curse, or even shot with a Muggle gun. But it wasn’t that simple. Instead, Sirius was taken from him, seemingly one piece at a time. First, there was the spell that knocked Sirius off his feet. With all the spells, hexes, and curses, including Unforgivables, flying in the fighting, Harry never knew which spell had been cast.

There were only three spells he recognized by sight: a stunner, the killing curse, and the purple curse Hermione had been hit with (true, he didn’t know what it was, but the sight of it was something he’d never forget). For all Harry knew, it could have been an overenthusiastic Expelliarmus. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, simply not knowing what had caused Sirius to fall only added to his feelings of failure, and consequently his anger.

But more than that, there was the Veil of Death itself. Harry thought about it on several occasions in the past few weeks. When he did think about it, it wasn’t so much in regards to Sirius as it was his curiosity about the stone archway and veil itself. While Professor Lupin held on to Harry to keep him from running after Sirius, he had said that Sirius was gone. They all acted as though he were dead, when all he really did was simply fall through it.

Luna had said that there were people “in there.” She could hear them; Harry could too. When she mentioned those voices, she said she knew she would see her mother again. Did that mean that beyond the veil was “the next great adventure,” as the headmaster had once described it: that which is beyond this life? When Sirius fell through, did it “kill” him, or did he simply continue his fall unaware of any change and land on the floor... on the other side, and then get up and go join his parents for tea?

Harry had heard Professor Dumbledore refer to that room as the Death Chamber. From the layout, he assumed that it was a place where executions were carried out. He also supposed it was possible that people at the ends of their lives went there voluntarily to leave the physical world painlessly and with dignity. But what was the veil exactly? A device? A gateway? All of this uncertainty nagged at him; it was like wondering about someone who had been missing for years. If only he knew something, then maybe he could begin to deal with it.

As he read Hermione’s letter, Harry felt so helpless against her words. He knew she was trying to convince him that Sirius’s death was not his fault. Despite her repeated statements to the contrary, Harry still felt responsible for Sirius’s death. He felt he needed to prove her wrong; he needed to prove that this all WAS his fault.

Since Hermione had gone to such great lengths to show that there was nothing he could’ve done differently that would have led to Sirius surviving, Harry decided that the best course of action would be to do the same: to follow the sequence of events and find just one example of how he could’ve saved Sirius. After all, how could it simply be fate that Sirius was destined to die like that? Harry didn’t believe in that kind of thing. Did he?

And what of the prophecy? Weren’t you just— asked a voice in his mind.

Shut up! interrupted the other, No one asked you.

Again, the first voice asked, So it can be your destiny to be the one to face Voldemort, but not Sirius’s to GIVE his life to save yours?

The second voice didn’t reply.

Once he stopped arguing with himself, he set out to do what he had decided. It seemed so simple: simply find a way (only needed one) he could have kept Sirius alive. To be fair though, he knew he would not be satisfied if Sirius merely survived that day. Harry conceded to himself that Hermione was right about one thing: Voldemort was determined to get the prophecy.

Even if Dumbledore hadn’t withheld so much vital information and Harry hadn’t gone there that night, Voldemort would have tried again. So, all he really needed to do was to find just one way to guarantee Sirius’s survival. And to do that, all he needed to do was prove Hermione wrong. Erm... OK... Harry thought to himself uncertainly. Suddenly he thought maybe it’d be a little harder than he expected.

To make it easier on himself, Harry decided to start with the examples Hermione had used. He went though them, one by one, trying to figure out some way that Sirius could survive. Every single time it was the same: Harry could not find a way to guarantee Sirius’s survival. Each time he failed to disprove one of Hermione’s scenarios, he started getting angry again.

This time however, he wasn’t angry at her. He was angry at himself for not being able to save Sirius. He was angry at Dumbledore for withholding information. But most of all, he was angry at Voldemort, Bellatrix, Malfoy, or any of the other assorted Death Eaters... whoever was responsible for Sirius’s death in that particular scenario.

By the time Harry had finished going through all of the scenarios he could think of, he was completely exhausted mentally. Unlike before when he blamed himself entirely, his anger now stretched out in all directions. He felt as though he knew what it’d be like to be a boggart in a room full of people. With so many people to be mad at for Sirius’s death, Harry could no longer focus his anger.

The intense spotlight his anger had become, pointing at himself, was now starting to lose its focus. When finally combined with his exhaustion, he found he could no longer keep it up. It was as though the entire top of the lighthouse had been removed. Without the reflecting mirror and focusing lenses of the lighthouse chamber, the once intense beam that could sweep out for miles into the blackness of his grief was now nothing more than a small unprotected flame that stood atop a very small building on the rocky shore of a stormy coastline.

With the intense focus of his anger now lost, Harry was now finally and completely at the mercy of his grief. And, oh, how the grief rushed his shores. The first wave quickly advanced and his once sustaining anger was no match. Harry immediately broke down and did something he promised himself he would never do: he started crying.

Harry never wanted to ever let anyone see him cry. He felt that he had had to put up with too much misery in his own life to ever admit to himself by crying that it might’ve just been too much. Fortunately, he knew no one would ever see him here in his own little mini-Azkaban. Perhaps that was why he didn’t fight it as hard as he usually did. Quickly losing the strength and willpower to do anything, Harry simply set the letter down on his night stand, crawled back into his bed, and buried his face in his pillow and began to cry out fifteen years worth of restrained tears.

At some point in the night, Harry fell asleep. When he awoke, he realized that he felt different. Something had changed. Harry looked around the room as he thought about what had happened. His eyes fell upon Hedwig and he watched her as she slept in her cage. He stared at her, mesmerized, thinking about how simple her life must be... no prophecies, no war... the only real thing to worry about was finding the addressee on a delivery and whether dinner would be warm blooded or cold blooded.

He felt transfixed by the sight of her breathing, in and out, in and out. As he watched, he became consciously aware of his own breathing. He soon also became acutely aware of the feeling of emptiness inside his chest. His crying had not lessened his feeling of loss for Sirius, but something had changed.

He was still mad. Voldemort, Bellatrix, Malfoy, Dolohov, the other Death Eaters, Dumbledore... they were all still the subjects of Harry’s ire. Harry still held them responsible for Sirius’s death, each in their own way. Sirius. As Harry said his name to himself, he suddenly realized that he felt differently about the way Sirius died.

By no means was Harry happy about his death; he would’ve given his own life to save Sirius’s. That was it! As bad as he felt about losing him, Harry now also felt a sense of pride in the way Sirius met his death. We all will face death, Harry admitted with a knowing acceptance that no fifteen year old should have, the only question is how and when.

Since it HAD to happen sometime, Harry could not think of a better time or way for it to happen than coming to the rescue of someone he loved. Harry had been so focused on how Sirius died that he didn’t give any thought to why. If Sirius was giving his life to save another’s, did it really matter whether it was by bullet, Unforgivable curse, or mysterious stone archway? No, Harry admitted to himself.

His own possible death a matter of prophetic record, Harry knew that if his time were to come sooner than later, he only hoped that his death would have purpose, and not be in vain. With his new found pride in how Sirius faced death, Harry hoped that he would be as lucky. If he HAD to die, he felt he could do so with a clean conscience if it meant saving the lives of his nearest and dearest.

Harry thought back to the battle in the Department of Mysteries. What if Dolohov’s curse had been a certain green one instead of a mysterious purple one? Fortunately it hadn’t been, but if he had been close enough, Harry could now honestly say he would have jumped in front of it to protect his best friend. Does “fortunately” adequately cover it? Harry wondered. He would have died to save Hermione’s life.

His inner voices started up again. You know, that certainly sounds— the first one started.

It does not sound anything! the other defended. And I’m not afraid to say it: I would give my life to save Hermione’s! And yes, I would’ve also for everyone else there that night: Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville. So there!

Harry resolved then and there that if his only two choices were to kill or be killed by Voldemort, the world would probably be better off if it were the former rather than the latter. I, for one, don’t have any problems with Muggle-borns, Harry thought to himself with a grin.

Returning his attention to Hermione’s letter, Harry reread it one more time. As he did, he found himself crying again. But this time, there were more than just tears of pain. For one thing, he felt as though he had finally been able to let go of a tremendous weight that he had been forcing himself to carry around: his anger at himself.

Anger was still there, in abundant quantities to be sure. When it was directed at others who Harry held responsible for Sirius’s death however, it seemed much lighter than when it was pointed at himself. With that weight released, all that remained was his sense of loss for Sirius, which was no small burden by any means. There was also a little guilt for letting the other five follow him that night, but that seemed to have been slowly fading as he had been reviewing their bravery That Night.

As bad as he felt, now that he was finally honestly facing the loss of Sirius, he knew that he would be able to get through it. With the paralyzing anger now gone, he could begin to come to terms with his feelings. And the best way he felt he could do that was to be in the company of his two best friends, plus three more.

And with that, Harry immediately resolved to write back to all five of them... honest, heartfelt replies to the letters they sent, as well as their parents. That meant five letters to his five friends for the letters they had sent him so soon after his arrival, plus four more to their parents.

But there was a tenth letter also. A tenth letter he knew he had to reply to first. This last letter, that would be the first of his replies, was the keystone to all the other replies. If he could not find words for this one, the others could be worse. If he could not be honest to himself and what was in that letter, he had no chance of doing so with any of the others. And what he felt he needed to do most of all at this very moment was to honestly tell his friends what they meant to him.

Harry pondered what to write in response to that tenth letter. He started to let his mind go blank as he stared at the ink, focusing on the tiny spidery veins here and there resulting from the parchment fibers absorbing the ink. His eyes landed on the word in the letter where he remembered finally figuring out what this letter was about. He began to smile slightly (the way one does when realizing what a prat he was being) as he remembered his initial reaction, how he wanted to send her a very short response telling her in two words what he thought of her letter.

He skipped ahead to the last two sentences in her letter.

Remember Harry, I’m here if you need me. We all are.

He had the strangest feeling that those last three words were added at the last minute. He was no expert, but he had seen enough of Hermione’s handwriting on his homework to notice that the handwriting didn’t flow (he couldn’t think of a better word) as it did throughout the rest of the letter.

But that wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was what he was going to write in response. As Harry stared at those words, it finally came to him what to write. It wasn’t eloquent by any means; no wordsmithing or second drafts would be required. The following day, after he appeased the Dursleys, he immediately set out to start his replies.

Once he had the first, most important reply finished, he sent his beloved snowy owl out into the pleasant evening with instructions to deliver it to Hermione immediately. He told her to stay the night and rest there, because when she returned the next day, he would have nine more letters for her to deliver to the four families of his friends.

As Hedwig flew off into the summer afternoon, Harry started writing his nine other replies, which, after the first one, he found much easier than he had expected. He looked up occasionally to watch as Hedwig flew toward his best friend’s house, slowly becoming a tiny dot on the horizon. Attached to her leg was a piece of parchment that had written on it two words that, he thought, very clearly expressed what he felt about her and her letter: THANK YOU.

A/N: One final “background” chapter... Harry will be rejoining the land of the living next chapter, so things should start picking up a bit. All this reflection and self-analysis isn’t always the easiest read (it isn’t any easier to write), but it has been necessary however. Got to deal with “Angry Harry” somehow. If you’re reading this, you’ve obviously hung on this far, so I thank you. Second, if there really is a Kwik-E-Freez anywhere, sorry for using your name, or, you’re welcome for the free advertising, whichever you prefer. I just made it up... it reminded me of the Kwik-E-Mart from “The Simpsons.”

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Chapter 3. A Pack of Thank Yous.

As Hedwig winged her way to Hermione’s house with the first of his replies, Harry set out to write responses to all of the other letters he had received. All of his friends knew perfectly well how he had taken his isolation the previous summer; they had obviously gone to great lengths to make sure they kept in contact with him this time.

Harry remembered back to the previous year how all of the letters from Hermione and Ron had been extremely short, essentially doing little more than telling him that they couldn’t talk about much. This year however, it seemed they all had free reign to say as much as they wanted. All of the letters were of course devoid of anything that might be damaging to the Order if they happened to be intercepted. Other than that though, they were surprisingly in depth.

Dumbledore must’ve had some role in that, Harry thought to himself.

Now that Voldemort’s return was common knowledge, the threat of attacks by him or his Death Eaters had only increased. As such, the likelihood of letters to and from Privet Drive being intercepted was greater than ever. That said, Harry was surprised that his friends and their families had been allowed to write so much to him. Perhaps it was Dumbledore’s way of attempting to make amends for “an old man’s mistakes,” as he called them.

Harry knew what he wanted to say to all of his friends. He just didn’t know how to say it. As bad as it seemed, it was a vast improvement over two days earlier. If it wasn’t for Hermione’s second letter, Harry probably wouldn’t have even bothered thinking about what to write in reply in the first place. He’d have just written “Thanks for the letter. I’m fine,” to all of them, the same he had been writing for the inquiries from Order members about his treatment by the Dursleys. Now that his anger at himself had left him, he actually wanted to say certain things.

He went over to his dresser drawer and retrieved the letters that his friends and their families had sent him. Each of his replies started out the same as his entire first letter to Hermione, “Thank you.” Looking back, Harry was quite proud of the way he attempted to “deal” with Hermione’s second letter. He had gone through her all of her scenarios one by one, trying to disprove them. This of course had resulted in what he suspected Hermione had intended he do all along: prove to himself that Sirius’s death was not his fault, that he was not to blame.

Harry hoped that a similar approach to his would help get the ink flowing on his other replies. Ron was the first to send him a letter, so his reply was first. He knew that Ron was not one for mushy, emotional talk, so Harry kept his letter simple. Harry thanked him both for accompanying him to the DOM that night as well as for sending his letter. He said that it was “really cool” how well Ron fought that night, and that in regards to the D.A., “See, Hermione does know what she’s talking about sometimes.”

The most emotional he got was telling Ron that he was proud to have him as a best friend; he hoped Ron wouldn’t gag too much over that. Harry spent the rest of the letter talking about Quidditch. That was something the two of them could share freely and openly without any awkward moments, on either side. Right now, Harry felt that the most important thing to do was to talk to his friends. It didn’t matter what it was about... anything would do. All that mattered was that he have some connection—any connection—to those he cared about.

After he was finished with Ron’s letter, Harry wrote a reply to Arthur and Molly Weasley. Harry thanked them also for their letter. He told them the same things he told Ron: that he was impressed with the bravery Ron showed that night, and that he was proud to call Ron his best friend. He tried to explain to them that he felt they could never understand how truly relieved and happy he was that Ron was not permanently injured that night. Harry went on to say that he knew Ron was a little jealous of his pile of gold in Gringott’s as well as all the attention he received from the rest of the world.

Trying to see clearly through watery eyes, Harry wrote that he understood why Ron did this, and that he did not blame him for it. Harry knew the feeling too. He was jealous of the Weasley family and the attention Ron received from them. He told Arthur and Molly that he would trade a thousand Galleons for a family dinner like the Weasley’s anytime. He also asked that they not tell Ron that, unless he really, really wanted to know what was in his letter. Harry said that he was afraid Ron would give him a hard time for being so “girly” in his letter (but he ended the sentence by drawing a small smile to let them know he was joking).

Next, Harry wrote Ginny’s letter. He thanked her for the diversion she helped create the previous year so he could check to see if Sirius was still at Grimmauld Place. It was also important, he felt, to let her know how grateful he was for telling him that he wasn’t being possessed by Voldemort when he witnessed the attack on her father. He explained that he was so worried that he was being possessed that if she hadn’t said that, he probably would have run away to try to keep them safe.

Remembering something else, and with a smile on his face, Harry also told her that he wished he could’ve been there when she hexed Draco Malfoy in Professor Umbridge’s office that night. He would have loved to see the effect of her Bat-Bogey Hex on the ferret boy in person. He also asked that if he ever got out of line, she at least give him fair warning to shape up before she would do something like that to him.

When it came time to write letters to Neville and his grandmother, Harry decided to write one to both of them. Harry started with the same praise and thanks he had written already written three times in the last hour. No matter how many times he wrote the same thing to each of his friends and their families, he felt each time was no less meaningful.

Harry then suggested to Neville that an official account of what exactly happened that night might be useful someday. There was already a brief description in the Sunday Prophet of what had happened that night, however it had been given from the unique point of view of the less-than-reliable Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, of course. Harry asked Neville if he would be willing to write down everything that had happened that fateful night, from the he joined the others in Professor Umbridge’s office to the moment Dumbledore arrived in the Death Chamber. Sirius’s death and Bellatrix’s use of the Cruciatus Curse on Neville still fresh on Harry’s mind, he assured Neville that if there were any parts Neville wasn’t sure how to write, that he could skip them for now, and they’d work on it together later.

Harry had to think a while about what he could possibly say to Luna and her father. He had spent so little time around her that he wasn’t really sure he knew her well enough to know exactly what to say. Finally, after rereading her and her father’s letters one more time, he decided to just ink his quill, start with “Dear Luna and Mr. Lovegood,” and see where it took him. Once he had finally finished it, it was the shortest of all the letters he had written thus far, save Hermione’s of course.

In the end, he simply told her and her father exactly what he wanted to say. She seemed so open and straightforward that he hoped it would suffice. In retrospect, it seemed obvious to simply say what he wanted to say. However, he had been so worried about how to say it that it never really occurred to him to just do it; it just sort of happened as he wrote.

Remembering her seeming fascination with Ronald the previous school year, Harry was tempted to say something to the fact that he “and Ronald” were looking forward to seeing her again, just to give Ronald a hard time. He eventually decided against it in the off chance that there was something more to it than met the eye (not unlike Luna herself). Harry brought the letter to a close by wishing the two of them luck on their expedition to Sweden to look for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

With most of his replies finished, Harry stopped for a few moments to rest his hand, trying to relieve some of the tension. He sent Hedwig off to Hermione’s in the early evening; it was now just after sunset. He had spent the last two hours writing a total of five letters. His hand aching, Harry was glad that he had decided to combine several of his replies into one. He hadn’t done this to get out of writing the letters; it simply seemed to make more sense to him to combine those. As Harry sat there rereading his letters making sure they said everything he wanted them to, a cool, refreshing breeze blew in through the window.

This summer, like the last several before, had been very hot. Several days earlier, Harry had overheard the weather forecast on the seven o’clock news. The local weatherman relayed a report from the Meteorological Office saying that the jet stream was expected to shift south bringing with it pockets of cool marine air. This, combined with the already warm muggy weather they were already experiencing, was likely to create afternoon and evening storms over the next several days. While Harry didn’t understand what most of that meant, the word “cool” had certainly caught his attention, as well as the rest of heat-fatigued residents of Little Whinging.

Harry set down his quill and looked out the window. The sight before him was breathtaking: a beautiful summer sunset. The sky itself was a pale blue; a broken layer of clouds was rolling in from the north. The clouds nearest him were a deep blue-purple color, which gradually shifted to gray-purple as the clouds approached the horizon. What made the sight truly stunning was the light of the setting sun reflecting off the bottom of the clouds. It started out a deep maroon closest to him, lightening to an almost glowing magenta the further away the clouds were, finally ending in a vibrant orange. This, combined with the distortion of the heat still rising from the paved roads created a shimmering effect that made it appear as though the clouds were alive with fire.

Taking in several deep refreshing breaths of the cool air, Harry again turned his attention to his letters. He had answered all of them, except for two. Two letters remained: Hermione’s first letter, as well as that of her parents. Harry leaned back in his chair at his desk. Rolling his head around several times to work out the kinks (along with several satisfying pops), Harry then stared up at the ceiling, running his hands through his untidy raven hair, massaging his weary scalp. He felt drained mentally. It was as though saying everything that he wanted to say had taken everything he had out of him.

He wanted to finish writing his replies tonight so they could all go out tomorrow. Picking up his quill again, Harry sat there for a moment, trying to decide which to write first. Seeing as how he could not decide, he pulled out two new sheets of parchment and started both. He hoped that something would stir in his mind, giving him some direction on how to proceed with their letters. As hard as he tried, he could not get past “Dear Hermione,” and “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” (Harry was embarrassed to admit to himself that he still did not know Hermione’s parents’ first names)

Harry sat there for several minutes, inked quill in hand, staring blankly at the two sheets of parchment. He knew what he wanted to say, but did not know where to begin.

Didn’t we just go through this with Luna’s letter? the annoying voice in Harry’s mind taunted him. Just write something! After that Pulitzer Prize-winning composition you sent her a couple hours ago, she’ll be impressed if it’s a full sentence!

Harry’s more reasonable side (which, not surprising, all too frequently spoke in Hermione’s voice) asked back defensively, Who said anything about trying to impress her?

I’m just being sarcastic, he replied. Geez, don’t get so defensive! You know, that letter that was two entire words long...

Well, her voice retorted, still defensive, what else need you have said? It said everything that needed to be said right then and there. We both know that THAT isn’t something you can discuss in a letter. IF you’re going to talk to someone about something like that, you have to do it in person. Besides—

“Anyway...” Harry spoke aloud to stop the internal debate. He looked down at his quill that he had been holding midair over the sheets of parchment. “We’ve been sitting here so long that the ink has dried on the quill. It’s ruined. Now I’ll have to cut a new nib.”

Slightly annoyed, he set down the quill and again looked out the window. The sky was now a light orange and all the clouds were similarly hued, from a shade of orange not unlike the Weasleys’ hair to bright yellows. “Let’s pick this up tomorrow, shall we?” Harry proposed. A small part of him wondered if he should be worried about talking to himself.

Well, at least the Dursleys aren’t here to hear you, his reasonable side replied to Harry-proper.

“Yeah, that’s true, I suppose,” he replied with a small chuckle. The Dursleys had gone out about an hour ago to take Dudley to the local Kwik-E-Freez for an ice cream sundae. Uncle Vernon had reasoned that, what with the heat and all, Dudley deserved a nice cool treat. And besides, in his uncle’s opinion (and Aunt Petunia’s), one ice cream sundae with whipped topping, chocolate fudge, and chocolate chunks would not hurt the diet Dudley was still on. Harry had smirked when he heard his uncle say this to his aunt.

Sure, Harry thought to himself. ONE won’t hurt his diet, but when he’s eating one everyday for the last two weeks...

Harry tidied up his desk, putting away the spare sheets of parchment and his now ink-clogged quill. He tucked his letters and replies safely away back into his dresser drawer, just in case a strong gust of wind came blowing in during the night. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Harry turned out the light and crawled into bed. Getting comfortable, Harry stretched out in his bed.

As he lay there, he finally realized how completely exhausted he was, both mentally and physically. He hadn’t had a solid, uninterrupted night’s sleep in at least the last week. In fact, he was quite certain that in the approximately three weeks since he had returned, he could count on one hand the number of times he slept straight through the night. But still, even that was of little relief. Even if his nightly dreams didn’t wake him up, he still felt unrested and unrefreshed the following morning.

As Harry stared up at the ceiling, he tried to picture what his friends were doing right at that very moment. Though he was already in bed, it was still early by a normal teenager-on-holiday’s standards. He imagined Ron was home at the Burrow, making every effort to bury his books under a pile of anything, so he’d have some excuse for not starting his homework until about August 25.

Ginny... well, he really didn’t know what Ginny might be doing. Ever since second year when he learned of her crush on him, he had secretly taken great strides to not know too much about what she was doing (but not be obvious about it), lest his innocent knowledge of her routine be misinterpreted by her as a sign of returned feelings that she so desperately wanted.

Since it now seemed she had finally moved on, Harry decided he should try to not be so oblivious to her. Maybe she was out playing Quidditch, or maybe she was helping Fred and George in their new shop. Harry smiled slightly as he imagined Neville in his grandmother’s house, meticulously caring for his prized Mimbulus mimbletonia, meanwhile forgetting to reminder her that he still needed a new wand. Luna, he imagined, was probably humming “Weasley Is Our King” as she packed for her expedition to Sweden.

Hermione was the easiest for Harry picture of them all. He was quite sure he knew what she would be doing right now. Well, almost. Unsure of how long it would take for Hedwig to reach Hermione’s house (since even he didn’t know where she lived), he expected that she was doing one of three things. If Hedwig had already arrived, she was most likely writing a lengthy reply to the reply he had sent her. If Hedwig hadn’t yet arrived, he expected that she was either curled up on some couch somewhere reading Hogwarts, A History yet again, or was sitting at a desk like he was only ten minutes earlier, doing her homework, scribbling away in her tiny but neat handwriting.

Even though they had just finished their O.W.L.s, they all still had homework assigned. Regardless of what N.E.W.T. level classes students chose to take, everyone would still be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms in one form or another. Imagining stacks of texts and long rolls of parchment piled around her desk, Harry finally fell asleep.

When he awoke the next morning, he felt better than he could remember feeling in months. He slept the whole way through the night without waking up once. What’s more, he didn’t have any nightmares at all. In fact, he couldn’t remember having any dreams at all. Hermione had once told him about dreams, about REM sleep, so he knew that it was highly unlikely that he didn’t actually have any dreams that night. Considering how he felt that morning, he assumed that whatever he did dream about must’ve been something pleasant.

After making everyone’s breakfast that morning, Harry went outside and started his chores. It felt good to be outside again. He’d spent so much time hidden away in his room the last several weeks that it felt great to be out in the sunshine again. It was a glorious morning. The evening storm had done much to improve life in Little Whinging. While there had been no rain (something about it evaporating before it reached the ground), the winds had scoured out all of stuffy, humid air that had been hovering over the city for weeks, suffocating all comfort and enjoyment.

In fact, as Harry looked up and down Privet Drive, he could see almost all of his neighbors out working in their yards, taking advantage of the downright pleasant conditions, while they lasted. His attention returning from the end of the street, Harry’s eye caught on something lurking beneath the car in the drive of number three across the street. It was Mr. Tibbles, one of the many cats owned by his batty neighbor who lived on the adjoining Wisteria Walk, Mrs. Figg.

Harry’s mind snagged on something. Hang on. She’s a Squib. Now that I think about it, the way her cats act, it reminds me a lot of Crookshanks. I wonder if they’re actually Kneazles. Looking around to make sure no one was looking directly at him at that moment, Harry nodded to Mr. Tibbles in hello. He could have sworn the cat nodded back. Yep, probably a Kneazle.

About an hour into the front yard, mowing the small lawn, pulling weeds (it had been so hot lately that the weeds were rather limp and didn’t fight back too hard against being removed), and pruning the roses, Harry was almost finished. There were only two rose bushes left. His head down looking at the Sweet Dream in front of him, Harry suddenly noticed a small shadow move across the rose bush in front of him. He looked up to see a pair of white wings fly into his room; Hedwig had returned from Hermione’s.

Harry’s angle of view, combined with the fact that Hedwig’s tail feathers were fanned out to help slow her down prevented him from seeing whether or not she had a letter. Since he only had two roses remaining, Harry decided to finish them, giving her a chance to eat and drink before he went back inside and pestered her to see if Hermione had replied to him.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was finished with the front yard. He gathered all the tools up and took them around to the back yard. He knew he would have to do that soon, preferably today before the sultry air returned. He went inside the house to take a very short break.

“Front yard done, boy?” Vernon asked gruffly over his Sunday paper; he had not moved one inch from the kitchen table all morning.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.” Harry replied conciliatorily. Fearing a run-in with “that brute of a man with the blue eye,” Vernon and Petunia had been quite lenient when it came to Harry’s chores. Well, lenient by their standards. They still expected the same level of perfection as always. However, as long as the desired results were achieved, they didn’t hover over him too much, fussing about how he should have weeded before pruning, or that he was getting the garden trowel dirty. Harry wasn’t sure whether this was because they were afraid of Moody and his eye dropping by, or if they were just trying to avoid him. Either way, life with the Dursleys had been slightly more bearable since returning from King’s Cross.

“Hmpph. Well, don’t forget the back yard needs attention too,” Vernon replied without even looking up from his paper.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon. I’ve already taken the tools around back. I just need to give Hedwig some fresh water and food to keep her quiet, and then I’ll start on the back yard.” Harry had found that he could justify the attention he gave Hedwig to his relatives simply by putting in it terms of keeping her quiet.

A non-committal grunt was all Harry got in reply. After clearing away Vernon and Petunia’s empty tea cups, Harry went upstairs to check on Hedwig. He hadn’t really been expecting anything in reply, but Harry’s heart leapt up into his throat the instant he saw a piece of parchment tied to her leg.

Nearly tripping over the dirty clothes strewn about the floor, Harry practically ran over to Hedwig to retrieve the letter. In the time Harry was outside finishing the roses, Hedwig had fed and watered herself; she was now waiting patiently for him to untie his letter. Letter in hand, Harry started stroking his beloved familiar.

“Thanks girl,” he told her; she nibbled at his fingers in affection.

A strange swooping sensation of anxiousness started growing in Harry’s stomach as he looked at the letter in his hands. He was not sure why. Perhaps it was because of what he feared he might find in the letter. While he would be eternally grateful to her for helping break him out of his stupor, he felt he was not quite ready to start talking about it as if it were the latest Transfiguration assignment. It had been, after all, only one day. Putting his fears and doubts aside, he trusted (and hoped) that Hermione would once again know how he was feeling. With a brave face, Harry opened Hermione’s letter.

Dear Harry,

You don’t know happy I was to see Hedwig come flying into my room last night. I must admit she quite startled me. I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon.

“Or at all?” Harry said aloud to himself, feeling slightly guilty while still smiling at the same time.

As I held your letter in my hands, I could see that there wasn’t much ink bleed through on the parchment. I knew it was a very short letter. I was deathly afraid of what you might say in so few words, considering how I pretty much sprung that last letter on you. I hope you can forgive me if I made you angry. All I will say in my defense was that I felt it was important to say certain things. I do hope you understand.

When I finally opened your letter, I could not hold back the tears. And before you start thinking I’m turning into Cho over here, just know that they were tears of joy. I do not think you could have written ANYTHING that would have made me happier than what you did. Well, actually I can, but that’s a different subject. Anyway, those two little words made all the debating and agonizing over writing that letter worthwhile. I know they were only two words, but somehow I knew that those two words said more than a foot long scroll saying everything else except that.

Just so you know, no one else knows that I wrote that letter to you. I dare say that I know you would’ve been most upset if you felt we were talking about you like that behind your back. I won’t mention it to Ron or anyone else. If you want to tell them how I bullied you into acceptance, I won’t try to stop you.

Harry was quite sure Hermione was trying not to laugh as she wrote that.

I also wanted to tell you that something wonderful has happened. Professor Dumbledore came to visit us—

“‘Us?’ Who’s ‘us’?” Harry wondered aloud mid-sentence.

—this morning. He told us that the situation has changed, and different plans were being arranged. I can’t tell you here, for obvious reasons. But I promise you this: the only reason I agreed to not tell you despite the Headmaster’s concerns was because he promised to inform you himself. I didn’t want you to think this was going to be a repeat of last summer. All I can say is that preparations are being made. Please, do try and keep yourself out of trouble. I know that’s asking a lot of you, but I’d really hate for any of this to fall through. Please, keep your head down with that pitiful excuse of a family of yours, and try to avoid any more encounters with dementors.

Again, Harry pictured Hermione sitting at her desk chuckling.

I’d suggest that you wait until at least tomorrow before sending Hedwig out again. Give her a rest and an owl treat. She deserves it after delivering your most important letter. Believe me, it was important. Expect to hear from the Headmaster soon. If he hasn’t contacted you by tomorrow, please let me know. I’ll “remind” him of our little agreement.

I just wanted to let you know that if you wanted to talk... about how you think you did on your O.W.L.s (I’m so excited to get mine, aren’t you?), about what N.E.W.T. classes you’re going to take, even about Quidditch (hey... don’t laugh, I go to all your games don’t I? and I HAVE read Quidditch Through the Ages), or anything else... you’ll know where to find me. I said it once, and I’ll say it again, I’m here if you need me. Please, don’t push us away if you need us.

Love, as always, from,

Hermione

Harry set the letter down. He was quite sure he knew what she meant when she wrote “or anything else...” although he didn’t feel too worried about it. She expected him to talk about Sirius at some point. However, as he saw it, she seemed to make it clear that he was free to do it on his own terms and when he felt he was ready. Harry was again impressed by Hermione’s ability to know what he was feeling.

He thought that he would want to talk about it with someone sometime; he just didn’t know when. All he did know was that time was not now, at least not immediately. By encouraging him to talk, but not pressuring him into it, he found it rather reassuring to know that when he decided he was ready, there would be at least one person waiting. He was also comforted by the fact that he was quite sure it was someone he knew would not judge him harshly for whatever he might have said, no matter how stupid or silly.

Harry went over to his dresser drawer and put her letter away with the rest. Hermione’s letters had somehow become separated from the rest. Oh yeah, because I wrote replies to everyone else’s letters last night, and not hers. Looking out the window, he saw that there was not a cloud in the sky; it was nearly noon and would be hot again soon. Hopefully, another storm would roll through tonight, bringing a refreshing cool evening breeze to his home away from home. Knowing there was more work to be done in the back yard, Harry gave Hedwig another pat on the head, and then went out back to start on the remaining yard work.

By the time Harry had finished, it was late afternoon. While the morning had been cool and pleasant, the afternoon had become hot, sticky, and miserable. The Dursleys had gone out to the local shopping center to do a little post-birthday shopping for Dudley. Evidently, he decided he didn’t like some of his birthday presents... several weeks after receiving them. He especially didn’t like the ones he broke. This suited Harry just fine. He’d finally be able to take a decent shower for once without one of the Dursleys flushing the downstairs toilet to remind him his two minutes of water were up.

Feeling more invigorated that he had in quite a while, Harry looked out the bathroom window. There were clouds on the horizon. Another storm was hopefully on its way. Returning to his room, Harry was so surprised by what he found waiting on his bed that he dropped the towel he had wrapped around himself. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s pet phoenix, was perched on his headboard. He had a small envelope tied to his leg.

After pulling out some clothes and properly covering himself, Harry walked over to the magnificent red and gold animal.

“Hello, Fawkes,” Harry greeted him.

Fawkes replied with a few chirps that, not for the first time, filled Harry with a reassuring strength. He stuck out his leg to allow Harry to remove the letter. As soon as Harry had the letter, Fawkes flapped his wings several times to get airborne, and then disappeared in a flash of fire.

Dear Harry,

First, I must tell you to not set this letter down until you have finished reading it and understand everything in it.

I do hope Fawkes finds you in better spirits than this same time last year. I trust that your friends have written you. I hope you have taken to heart what they had to say.

There are many preparations still to be made, so my time is short and I’ll get straight to the point. Your situation has changed somewhat very recently, yesterday morning to be exact. I feel that it is in your best interests that certain changes be made to reflect and promote this change.

You have spent enough time at your aunt’s house this summer to ensure that your mother’s protections remain intact. Without getting into it too much, you have suffered a loss. We all have, but you most of all. With your physical protections reestablished, it is my belief that other things must be taken into consideration as well.

I’m sure you will not argue with the assessment that your remaining at your aunt’s house is the surest and most convenient way to guarantee your safety. That said, I do not believe that is what is best for you. I feel, therefore, that it is not necessary for you to remain there any longer than necessary.

Tomorrow, you will leave number four, Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. Please have all of your belongings packed and ready to go by noon tomorrow. Please make sure Hedwig is ready to travel as well. Unfortunately she cannot be allowed to fly to her destination if this is all to work. I do not think you need me to explain how much has been involved to make sure this transfer is handled safely. All you really need to know is that timing is critical. Please be ready promptly at noon.

I have heard from reliable sources how well your reception was received by the Dursleys. You may assure them that your departure will be done in the most “normal” and Muggle way we could arrange. It is my hope that this assurance will lessen any objections they may have to your removal, thought I doubt there is much risk of that.

Harry was sure Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling as he wrote that.

I trust you will find your reception committee satisfactory.

Once you have arrived at your destination, you may send Hedwig out to communicate with your other friends as necessary. She need only be carried by you through the door for everything to work.

If there is anything you feel you wish to talk about, please make yourself available to your friends. I know firsthand that they want to be there for you. Whilst you are there, if there is anything you wish to discuss with me specifically, you may of course send Hedwig. She will find me wherever I am.

As long as everybody remains on time, I am quite certain that security shall be maintained. Do not worry about this communication. Fawkes is a somewhat more secure method of delivery than standard Owl Post (no offense intended to Hedwig, of course). Once you have finished reading this and understand everything contained within, you may set it down. Once it is no longer needed, this letter will self-destruct.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster.

Harry could not believe it. He was leaving for the rest of the summer. He looked at the letter again. ‘Other friends,’ what does that mean? Harry wondered to himself. Probably going to Grimmauld Place. Ron and his family are probably there already. Harry reread the letter one more time just to be sure he got everything. Once he was sure he no longer needed the letter, he set it down on his desk. It immediately burst into a huge fireball. Harry was so surprised by what had happened that the flame had died before he even had a chance to react. He looked at where the letter was only seconds before. There was not a trace of anything: no ashes, no burn marks, not even a warming of the wooden desktop.

That little adventure over, Harry quickly started packing. It did not take long, as he really hadn’t unpacked much after arriving several weeks ago. He just really never got around to it. Within half an hour, he was ready to go. The only bad thing was that he was not leaving until tomorrow. Deciding that a little unexpected surprise could not hurt, Harry decided to go downstairs and give the kitchen a quick cleaning, just to make sure everything shined. If they were already in a good mood, learning that they could be rid of him almost a month and a half early might make them even happier.

About an hour later, the Dursleys returned with Dudley’s second round of presents. Having left his bedroom door open, Harry heard a surprised reaction from down in the kitchen.

“Well, I do say that this IS a pleasant change. The boy is earning his keep without having to be yelled at. See Petunia, I told you I was finally getting through to the boy!” Vernon exclaimed with triumph.

Harry smiled to himself. If only Vernon knew he was leaving tomorrow, he’d probably be dancing around the kitchen, an impressive accomplishment for a human his size. But in the end, Harry didn’t really care what Vernon said or thought. All that mattered was that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be somewhere else. He assumed he would be returning to Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t know for sure. I don’t care. Anywhere’s better than here, Harry thought to himself quite happily.

---

A/N: If you’re curious to see what Harry was looking at out his window, this might give you some idea. This picture and this one too are two that I took a couple years ago when I was playing around with a digital camera. I thought it was pretty.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. He is the wonderful creation of J.K. Rowling. I’m just playing here.

Chapter 4. The Very Friendly Dursleys.

Fawkes had left not three hours ago, and Harry still was as excited now as he was when he first read the Headmaster’s letter. He was leaving Privet Drive, and hopefully he would not have to see his aunt, uncle, or cousin again for another eleven months.

Harry looked out his bedroom window. He was again treated to another beautiful sunset. I can’t imagine ever seeing anything that beautiful again, Harry thought to himself. From downstairs, he heard a word or two related to food, which told him it was time for him to head down and help his aunt get dinner started.

Once everyone (except Harry) was well fed and watered, Harry got up and cleared away the table. Again Vernon seemed impressed with Harry’s sudden change in attitude, though he tried to hide it. Voldemort would sing Christmas carols before Uncle Vernon praised Harry. Vernon’s earlier comment was more about his own “getting through to the boy” than it was about Harry’s behavior itself.

After the Dursleys had migrated their way over to the living room and made themselves comfortable (but before they turned the television on), Harry decided that now was probably the best time to inform them of his pending departure. They all seemed to be in good spirits, so Harry was sure this would only make them happier. He hoped that happy Dursleys would mean avoiding a repeat of his departure two years earlier, right before the Quidditch World Cup.

“Uncle Vernon?” Harry asked, when he saw his uncle was about as comfortable as he ever would be.

“Hmmm?” Vernon replied, disinterested.

“I just wanted to let you know that some people from school are coming to get me tomorrow. They are going to take me for the rest of the summer.” Harry decided it would be much simpler to simply inform his uncle of this change, rather than ask if it was okay for him to leave. He was quite sure that whichever Order member came to retrieve him would take him regardless of whether the Dursleys approved.

For one of the few times in his life, Vernon Dursley was very interested in what his good-for-nothing nephew had to say. “What did you say, boy?” he asked.

“I said, some people from school were picking me up tomorrow for the rest of the summer.” Even if he wanted to, Harry decided that it was neither the time nor the place to explain the Order of the Phoenix to his relatives.

“They are, are they?” Vernon replied with a suspicious, slightly fearful tone. Harry could tell his uncle was considering the possibilities, wondering what could possibly happen to them again.

A hut on the sea, a broken window, a destroyed fireplace and living room... those memories were still as vivid in the Dursleys’ minds as though they happened yesterday. And what happened to poor, defenseless Dudley was just beyond what one perfectly normal family could take: a pig’s tail, a swollen tongue, and attacks by dementors.

“Yes,” Harry replied. Can’t forget the magic words, he reminded himself. “For the rest of the summer. Tomorrow. Noon.” A look of sheer joy mixed with fear filled Vernon’s already purple face.

“People from... your school... are coming here?”

“Yes.” Harry was glad Vernon was catching on. “They said to tell you that they would be coming by normal means,” he emphasized. “None of the neighbors with notice anything out of the ordinary.”

This seemed to seal the deal for both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who had been hovering fearfully behind the chair Vernon was sitting in. “Well, don’t expect us to take you to that blasted train you ride. Once they have you, you’re their responsibility until we have to come collect you next year. We do have to come collect you again, I suppose?” Vernon asked most eagerly.

“I assume so,” Harry said. Vernon’s entire body dropped in disappointment. “But a lot can happen in a year,” Harry added. His uncle’s eyes lit up in hope.

“What time did you say again?” Vernon asked.

Maybe he wasn’t paying attention, Harry thought to himself annoyed. “Noon tomorrow. And from the sound of their letter, we’re on a tight schedule. I have to be ready promptly at noon.” Remembering something Hermione said in her letter, Harry added, “It almost sounded as though if I am late, this will fall through. I might have to stay here for the entire summer. If there are any chores you need me to do tomorrow, we should get them done early so I don’t run late.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Dudley can do those tomorrow,” Vernon replied with glee.

Harry heard a shocked “What?!” coming from the refrigerator where Dudley had his head buried.

“Quiet, Dudley!” Vernon shouted for the very first time in his life. Apparently his love of making Harry do the household chores was eclipsed only his desire to be rid of him.

Amazed at how well everything had gone thus far, Harry decided it was best to not temp fate by staying downstairs with them any longer than necessary. “Is there anything else you need tonight from me? If not, I should probably go back upstairs and pack and get ready. And then I’ll go to bed when I’m done.” He neglected to mention that he was already almost completely packed.

His aunt and uncle shook their heads no, trying their hardest to contain their obvious expressions of pleasure at him leaving nearly a month and a half early. With that, Harry wished them all good night and then turned to walk upstairs.

Unbeknownst to any of them, the moment Harry set his foot on the first step, he, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia all thought simultaneously, Less than eighteen hours, all equally happy.

When he returned to his bedroom, Harry gave it a once over just to make sure he didn’t forget anything. The only things that hadn’t yet been stowed away in his trunk were the ten letters his friends had written him; they were still in his dresser drawer where he had left them. He also still had the unwritten letters to Hermione and her parents. He really wanted to finish writing them, but unfortunately he was no closer to finding words for their letters than he was the night before.

In the end, Harry decided he would let the replies go until tomorrow. He’d just sleep on it; maybe something would come to him. To help inspire him, he decided he would read Hermione’s first letter one more time, as well as the one from her parents. Pulling those two letters out, he left her second letter in the drawer.

He had already answered it, but more importantly, even though he was feeling better than he could remember feeling in a long time, his feelings of loss and grief were still there. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide from them. On the contrary, he was just starting to face them. But, he felt that he didn’t need any long, detailed reminders of exactly what had happened. His own memories sufficed fine, thank you very much.

After reading their letters again, Harry put them away and walked back over to his window. The sun had already set; a layer of clouds now completely filled the sky. As Harry looked out, another cool refreshing breeze blew in. He felt a strange mixture of happiness and sadness. This odd combination slightly amusing, Harry was quite sure that he had more than the emotional range of a teaspoon.

I’m sure if Hermione were here, she could explain it, Harry mused as he considered how his current emotions should have clashed, but yet seemed to fit together. Taking in several deep breaths, Harry stared off blankly at the horizon. With watery eyes and a smile on his face, Harry spoke in barely a whisper, “I miss you Sirius.”

The following morning, Harry again woke up feeling quite good. As the fog of slumber rolled away, it carried with them the last few words of the dream that had been interrupted ...you need me. As difficult to hold onto as fog itself, by the time he was fully awake, the words were gone. He could not remember what they were. All he knew what that they, and the voice he heard speaking them, seemed familiar somehow. He must have heard them recently, whatever they were.

Harry got dressed and went downstairs to start breakfast. By the time the bacon was finished, Vernon and Dudley were downstairs ready to eat. The smell of bacon wafting upstairs was all the alarm clock they ever needed.

Two things surprised Harry that morning at breakfast. It was the first time in his life he could remember them allowing him to eat as much as he wanted. Perhaps they were trying to make a good impression on him should Moody be one of the people coming to claim him. The other thing, which quite frankly surprised him the most, was that Dudley volunteered to clear away the dishes (after a hard stare from his father). Evidently, Vernon and Dudley must have had a chat on how to hurry Harry on his way after Harry had gone to bed.

“Right now, these people you mentioned. They’re coming at noon, correct?” Vernon asked as though he were planning his own vacation.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“And how did you say they were coming?” Vernon asked expectantly.

“Erm... actually, I don’t know how they’re coming. All they told me was that they would come by normal means. I assume that means by car, but I don’t really know for sure.”

“Well, that seems fine by me. You all packed and ready to go?” Harry nodded. “Why don’t you go up and take a shower and put on some nice clothes? And run a comb through that hair of yours. You’re still in our care, and I want everyone to know that we take good care of you while you’re here.”

Harry had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing or even smiling at what his uncle had said. Deciding he should leave while he was still under control of himself, Harry again nodded, “Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

When Harry got to his room, he went over to Hedwig’s cage. Remembering what Professor Dumbledore had said in his letter, he opened the door to her cage. “Hedwig, we’re leaving soon. You have to come with me in the car or whatever they send. You can’t fly wherever we’re going. I don’t even know where we’re going or how long it’ll take to get there. Go out and see if you find a little snack for the road. And take care of any other business you might have,” Harry said as he glanced down at the bottom of her cage; it desperately needed cleaning. “Just be back within one hour. We’re leaving in an hour and a half. OK?”

The snowy owl hooted normally, which Harry took to mean that she understood. He reached into her cage to give her a quick pat on the head. She returned the sentiment by gently nipping at his fingers. Hopping off the perch in her cage, she stretched out her wings and then flew off into the morning sky.

Half an hour later, Hedwig’s cage was as good as new, quite fit for human cohabitation in very small enclosed spaces like a car. Because of the earlier heat, Harry had been leaving his window open for several weeks; he really hadn’t noticed how bad the smell had become until now when he spent more than thirty seconds next to it.

Now that Hedwig’s cage was properly clean, Harry turned his attention to himself. Some of the fragrance from Hedwig’s cage seemed to have attached itself to Harry and his clothes. Over the past several weeks, Harry had worn the same several sets of clothes every day. In his earlier mood, he really hadn’t cared much about his appearance, so he had never even bothered to have them washed. As a result, the only clothes he had that were still clean were his school uniforms that he had left untouched in his trunk after the end of school.

Pulling out a pair of trousers and one of his shirts (he’d skip the tie, jumper, and robes for now), he headed to the bathroom. After a thorough shower, he finally felt that he’d gotten the smell of dirty bird cage linings off of him completely. Once dressed, he turned to the mirror and ran a comb through his wet hair. No effect. At least this mirror wouldn’t point that out.

Returning to his room, Harry found that Hedwig had already returned. She looked as though she was quite happy with her clean new cage. Packing away the rest of his dirty clothes (Grimmauld has a laundry room, doesn’t it?), Harry turned his attention to the only thing left: the letters from his friends. Harry couldn’t carry all ten of them and Hedwig’s cage at the same time, so he decided to put them all into his trunk, except for Hermione’s and her parents’. He still needed to reply to them. If they were in his pocket, it would make for easier access in case he decided to try to write those during his “normal” trip.

Everything finally ready to go, Harry first carried his trunk downstairs and then brought down Hedwig’s cage with her in it. After setting everything next to the front door, Harry sat down on the couch and waited nervously. He looked at the clock: twenty minutes to noon.

Twenty minutes, Harry told himself, more as a reassurance than anything else. He had survived this long into his holiday without getting into trouble; he could make it another twenty minutes.

Ten minutes later, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came downstairs dressed very nicely. They were obviously hoping to make a good impression on the nice people (even if they were freaks) who were relieving them of Harry’s company. Maybe if the Dursleys were lucky, they’d keep him next year too...

“What is that you’re wearing?” Vernon asked, clearly surprised at how... normal Harry looked in his white school dress shirt and trousers.

“These’re my school clothes,” Harry explained. “They’re the only things I had clean. I... erm... neglected to put any of my dirty clothes out into the laundry these last three weeks,” he added rather sheepishly.

Vernon grunted slightly, indicating he had heard and understood Harry’s answer. “So, do you know who’s coming to retrieve you?” he asked.

“Actually no. The letter didn’t say,” Harry admitted. “All it said was noon today, normal means. I have a couple guesses who it might be, but that doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that everyone is on time.”

After a few more minutes had passed, Harry again looked at the clock above the television: five minutes left. Not really knowing what else to do, Harry pretty much just sat there staring at the clock. He watched as the second hand slowly made its way around the face of the clock several times.

As he waited, he thought about who would be coming to collect him. Tonks would surely be there, as would Lupin most likely. Moody might be there also, but then again he might not. Dumbledore’s letter had mentioned the Dursleys’ reactions to Moody, so he might’ve stayed back at Order Headquarters this time.

At 11:59:45, Harry heard a car pull into the driveway. He had been staring at the clock so intently that he didn’t see it drive by in front of the living room window. Two car doors opened then closed. No matter how accurate or inaccurate the Dursleys’ clock was, considering who was coming, he was not at all surprised when there was a knock at the door at exactly 12:00:00. Harry stood up and walked over to the front door. Knowing that his release was finally at hand, Harry grabbed the doorknob, took a deep breath, and then opened the door.

Harry never really knew who to expect to pick him up. It could have been anyone in the Order. But never did Harry ever expect to see the two people who were now standing in front of him. They were looking at him with slightly amused expressions as they saw the bewildered expression on his face.

A lump in his throat, Harry finally found his voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger?”

---

Disclaimer: How’s that for a cliffy? This won’t be one of those angsty stories (not that there’s anything wrong with them, it’s just not what this story is...), so this is about as big a cliffhanger as you’ll find here. So, was anyone surprised by Harry’s rescuers? Good, that’s what I was hoping. Was anyone expecting it because they picked up on the half dozen or so subtle hints I threw in along the way? Good, that’s what I was hoping. Was anyone expecting it simply because this is Portkey? Good, this IS Portkey, after all. :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. He is the wonderful creation of J.K. Rowling. I’m just playing here.

A/N: First things first. Credit needs to be given to my wonderful beta and friend MapleMountain. The whole “Prince Harry” joke in here was his idea. He said it as a smart-aleck comment in one of his edits. I liked it so much I wanted to include it, but I didn’t tell him as I wanted it to be a surprise. In my eagerness, I forgot (gasp, horror of horrors) to credit him the first time I posted this chapter. Thank you, and I’m sorry.

As for the Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s first names, I know it’s been done many times before... so here it is again. Honestly, I can’t think of anything I like better, so why mess with perfection?

We will be taking a slight break after this chapter, long enough to give me time to read Half-Blood Prince and absorb everything, a week (or two if I want to read it twice). I promise this story will continue with little or no change in what I had planned. The only possible change I foresee is that, depending on what happens in canon, I may want to incorporate some of that... and this may become longer. But everything I already have planned will not change.

---

Chapter 5. A Real Home.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, dressed very nicely, were standing in the Dursleys’ front doorway. They were still smiling; Harry still had a surprised look on his face.

“May we come in please, Harry?” Mr. Granger asked politely.

His ability to speak coming and going, Harry stood there for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. After about ten seconds opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Harry’s brain finally snapped back into gear.

“Yes, yes. Please come in,” he replied very enthusiastically, and led them into the living room.

Uncle Vernon, who had been observing the scene intently, eyed the Grangers warily as they entered his perfectly normal living room. Still unsure of what to make of these newcomers, he threw a glance at Aunt Petunia that seemed to say “Well, at least they LOOK normal enough...” Harry’s aunt had been standing in the corner nearest the hallway from the front door to the living room; she was positioned such that she could see the Grangers once they had entered the living room, but they could not see her until they actually turned around.

Finally walking into view, Aunt Petunia put on her best “gracious hostess” air. “Would you two like to sit down?” she asked.

“Thank you very much,” Mrs. Granger replied.

Once everyone was settled, everyone sat for a few moments, looking at each other. No one was sure what to say. Finally, Harry’s uncle decided to start. It was his house, after all.

“So, you two are from our nephew’s... school, are you?” he asked.

“Oh no,” Mrs. Granger replied with a smile. “Actually, we’re just the parents of one of his friends there. We live on the outskirts of London, actually.”

Mr. Granger immediately picked up where his wife left off. “Just like you, actually. Another set of parents who live out here while their children head off to their own world.”

Harry had never formally met Hermione’s parents; he had only seen them in passing on several occasions before and after the school year. Despite that, he had a feeling that something about this conversation just wasn’t right. It seemed rehearsed; he didn’t know why. It reminded him strongly of when Hermione put on her little show for Professor Umbridge the previous year when she saved him from the Cruciatus Curse, even though he knew that wasn’t rehearsed.

Vernon visibly relaxed as Mr. Granger said this. “Oh, so you’re not part of... their lot?” he asked.

Mrs. Granger smiled. “Well, only so far as a parent can be involved in their child’s life. But no, we’re just normal, ordinary people, if that’s what you mean.” Maybe it was because she reminded him so much of Hermione, but Harry was quite sure the smile on her face was fake.

Vernon and Petunia looked at each other, and for once, looked almost quite happy. Perfectly normal people, except for Harry of course, in their perfectly normal house.

“Actually, we were asked to pick Harry here up for that very reason.” Mr. Granger shot Harry the most fleeting of glances and a trace of a smile. Fortunately, Vernon’s gaze had not yet returned to Mr. Granger to see this. “We were told that some of your neighbors might object if they were to see anything out of the ordinary... even if it was something as simple as wizarding robes.” As his uncle turned back to the Grangers, Harry could see the slight remnants of a wince that his uncle had tried to hide upon hearing the “W” word.

Now giving Mr. and Mrs. Granger his full attention, Vernon laughed innocently as though he had never heard anything so preposterous. “Yes, well, some people are awfully sensitive about the silliest things.” Harry could tell his uncle was trying his hardest to keep from looking at him after saying that. This was a good thing as Harry himself was trying not laugh out loud to that statement.

After finally collecting himself, Harry looked back at the clock. Seeing the time, he decided they had all be there long enough. It was 12:02.

“I hate to break up this pleasant conversation, but the Headmaster’s letter said that your schedule was tight. We should probably be getting along then.”

Mr. Granger pulled a gold watch out of his pocket; Harry caught a glimpse of it. It strongly reminded him of the one he had seen Professor Dumbledore carry with him. “Harry’s right of course. We best be on our way. Time’s a ticking. Harry, are you ready to go?” he asked.

Harry had to force himself to not shout out “Hell yes, I’m ready to go.” He nodded towards his trunk and Hedwig’s cage. “Yes, Mr. Granger. Everything’s ready,” he said carefully, to avoid any obvious signs of how happy he was to be leaving with them.

Standing up, Mr. Granger turned one more time to Vernon, “I do hope we didn’t cause you any inconvenience today, to meet us here on a Monday during the day. We both had to take the day off work to make it out here and back.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Vernon replied most enthusiastically. “Actually, I had the day off anyway. It was very nice to meet the two of you.” Harry noticed that Vernon looked almost quite sincere as he said that. The truth was that he had called in sick this morning. There was no way that anyone even remotely associated with Harry and his world was going to be in his house without him there.

Mrs. Granger stood up and with a smile, clapped her hands and then rubbed them together. “Right then. Dear, will you take Harry’s trunk? I’ll carry Hedwig’s cage, and then we can be off.”

“Of course,” Mr. Granger replied. He offered his hand to Vernon, who shook it eagerly. It seemed he was quite impressed with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. After all, they were perfectly normal people who also just happened to be taking Harry with them. What could possibly make them any better?

“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” Mrs. Granger said as she offered her hand to Petunia. Harry’s aunt shook it, but not as eagerly. It looked funny, but what did he expect? That they’d hug each other goodbye like old friends? “Since we’re taking Harry now, we thought it’d be easier for us to make arrangements to see him to King’s Cross at the end of next month. I hope you don’t mind.”

That’s what would make them better, Harry thought, amused.

Vernon acted as though he was afraid it might be too much of an imposition on them to offer something like that. “Well, I suppose. I’d hate for anyone to have to make a special trip just on our nephew’s account. We could easily come and get him if need be.” Petunia’s face paled ever so slightly as Vernon said this.

“Oh nonsense!” Mr. Granger replied. “It’d be an awful shame for you to have to make the trip all the way into London just to pick him up and then take him to the station. It’s no trouble at all. Really. Someone around will be able to do it.” Mr. Granger then grabbed Harry’s trunk and headed for the front door. Petunia rushed to open it.

“And besides, even if it is us, don’t forget we have to take our own child there also. Please, don’t give it another thought,” Mrs. Granger added.

Seeing at the looks on his aunt and uncle’s faces, Harry thought to himself, Don’t worry, they won’t.

Once he was outside with Harry’s trunk, Mr. Granger waited for his wife and Harry to come out also. A few seconds later, Harry emerged with a huge grin on his face, along with Mrs. Granger carrying Hedwig’s cage. It was obvious Hedwig was familiar with Mrs. Granger, since she was so tolerant of her carrying her cage while she was still in it.

As soon as everyone was on the front step, the door gently (but very quickly) closed. Now separated from the Dursleys, Harry heaved a sigh of relief, “Finally!” He immediately stopped grinning.

Harry turned to look at Mr. Granger and try to find some way to explain that remark. He was surprised to see Mr. Granger smiling at him. “Our thoughts exactly, Harry. Let’s get everything loaded into the car so we can get out of here.”

Harry could only smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Mrs. Granger was still carrying Hedwig’s cage. “Oh... here, Mrs. Granger. Please let me carry that. You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Oh nonsense, Harry,” Mrs. Granger objected. “Don’t be silly. We’re your chauffeurs today. Now get in the car before I ask my husband to carry you to the car too.”

At least now I know where Hermione gets her stubbornness from, Harry thought, amused.

Harry walked over to the car parked in the Dursleys’ front drive. It was a medium sized SUV, not extravagant or grossly expensive, just very nice. Very practical, Harry decided. Any surprise about that?

Harry opened the door and then climbed into the backseat. Mrs. Granger put Hedwig’s cage on the seat next to Harry and strapped the seat belt around the cage. A minute later, Mr. Granger had loaded Harry’s trunk into the cargo area in back. As soon as he got into the driver’s seat, he again pulled out the pocket watch he had been carrying.

“Pretty good, if I do say so myself. 12:05. Professor Dumbledore said we had a ten minute window.” Mr. Granger looked quite pleased with himself.

Mrs. Granger turned to her husband. “Dear, would you please put that away so we can get going? I don’t want to stay here any longer than Harry does.” She then turned to Harry. “You’ll have to excuse him, Harry dear. Your headmaster loaned us his pocket watch for this little outing. He wanted to make sure we were on time, according to your clock. We had a very narrow time frame here, so he wanted to be sure we were able to take advantage of every second. When he gave it to us, it had a dozen hands on it that we couldn’t make sense of. He gave it a tap with his wand and it turned into a regular watch that just so happened to be synchronized with the Dursleys’ clock.”

And now I know where she gets her analytical side too, Harry mused. After listening to Mr. Granger talk about the watch for five minutes as they started their drive towards London, Harry thought to himself, Scratch that, she gets THAT from both of them. Again, Harry could only smile.

Once they had finally left Little Whinging, Mrs. Granger turned around again in her seat. “Sorry about not introducing ourselves properly back there. We’ve heard so much about your relatives that I didn’t really want to get too cozy with them. Just get you and get on our way.”

“You have?” Harry asked, confused. Mrs. Granger smiled and nodded. “Yes, of course: Hermione,” Harry reasoned, answering his own question.

“Well, you ARE her best friend after all. Even though we see so little of you, and her for that matter, I feel as though I’ve known you ever since she sent home her first letter back in her first year at Hogwarts.” Mrs. Granger had a very warm look on her face. Harry, not sure what to say, only nodded.

“Speaking of proper introductions... Where is my head? Harry, I’m Emma Granger and this is my husband Dan. It is very nice to meet you finally. As I said, we’ve heard so much about you. We’ve seen you every year before or after school in Diagon Alley or at King’s Cross, but we’ve never actually been properly introduced. It’s funny, you’d think someone didn’t want us to get to know each other, at least not yet.”

Stopped at a train crossing, Dan Granger turned around in his seat to shake Harry’s hand as his wife turned back to face ahead. “Nice to meet you finally, Mr. Potter. Not that our daughter hasn’t wanted us to meet you, of course... it’s just that something always seemed to conveniently come up to keep it from happening.”

After shaking Harry’s hand, Dan took on a very serious expression. “Are you the boy our daughter kissed a year ago?” Harry heard Emma let out a small sigh as though she was not happy with what Dan had just said.

Totally unprepared for that, after he felt his slight blush die down, he just sat there completely dumbfounded. Under the calculating stare of the father of an only daughter, securely strapped into an enclosed space was a very unnerving place to be. Slightly afraid, he had absolutely no idea how to respond.

Dan sat there with a deathly serious look on his face for a few seconds until he could no longer hold back his chuckle. “I’m sorry, Harry. I promised Hermione I wouldn’t do that, but I just couldn’t resist. I’d tell her the look you had on your face, but then she’d be upset with me. I can tell you this: you don’t want a Granger female mad at you.”

“Dan,” Emma said to him, still looking straight ahead.

“Yes, dear. But you already knew that, didn’t you Harry?” Dan teased with a bit of a grin on his face. “Five years at school with our daughter, and I’m sure you learned that pretty quickly.” His grin faded slowly. “She showed us that letter, by the way... her second one. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

Surprised by Dan’s sudden change of topic, Harry initial fear had shifted to relief, but was now replaced by sadness.

Dan, realizing the change in Harry’s demeanor, tried to lighten the mood. “Nice clothes there Harry. Let me guess: it was the only thing you had clean?”

Harry tried not to smile, but failed at his attempt.

Dan shook his head in an amused way. “You may be great wizard Harry, but you’re still a guy.”

“Dan,” Emma said again, this time more urgently. “The train ended a few moments ago. The queue is clearing.”

“Oh, yes dear,” Dan exclaimed, quickly turning around to pay attention again to the traffic. About ten seconds later, the queue had cleared and they were on their way again.

Emma again turned to Harry. “My husband’s childish sense of humor aside, we really are sorry for your loss, Harry. We know that you really haven’t had much of normal family life.” She turned slightly towards Dan. “Ten years in that house, and I didn’t see so much as a single picture of him, anywhere. Even all the family shots were only of the three of them.”

Dan nodded. “I know. And the way his eyes just lit up when you said we were normal. I was ready to leave.”

Emma Granger again turned back to Harry. “We hope we can change that slightly, at least for a little while.”

Harry, unsure of what she meant, said so. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Granger.”

“Please, Emma. Well, actually, I can’t tell you. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just part of the situation. ‘Preparations,’ Professor Dumbledore told us. Something about it being a secret. I can’t tell you, nor can I tell you who can. I do hope you understand.”

Harry was beginning to. The Fidelius Charm? he wondered. “Yes, actually, I think I do. Thanks.” He still wasn’t yet ready to call her Emma, but he didn’t want to call her Mrs. Granger either after she asked him not to.

Harry was now pretty sure that he was going number twelve, Grimmauld Place, since it seemed as though there was a Fidelius Charm involved. But considering he had already been wrong once today, he wasn’t going to make any bets. Even the direction they were driving didn’t help any. He had only been to and from Grimmauld Place by broom at night, Portkey, and the Knight Bus, none of which were any use in trying to determine the location of a place, regardless of whether it was hidden or not.

Considering it was the lunch hour on a work day, the trip was relatively easy that day. Traffic was fairly light on the A308 and the A316. After about half an hour, Harry began to wonder where they were going. Going the back way, aren’t we? he wondered. If they were going to London, wouldn’t the M25 and M4 have been faster?

His curiosity finally getting the better of him, Harry finally asked. “Did you say we were going to London?”

“Oh, no dear. But we’ll get there soon,” Emma assured him, thinking he was trying to find some polite way to say that he needed to use a restroom.

Knowing she couldn’t really tell him any more, he was satisfied with her answer. His bodily functions were perfectly fine, too. After his first trip to Grimmauld Place, Harry was sure to make sure all of his business was taken care of before he left. What a memorable entrance that’d be, Harry thought to himself with a smirk. Running past the waiting hugs and handshakes and making a beeline to the toilet.

Harry looked out the window and just watched as the scenery went by. As they took an exit off the main motorway, Harry noticed the sign indicating the direction they were heading. They were heading towards Wandsworth. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, Harry always thought it had a nice ring to it. He always thought it’d be cool to tell his friends that he lived in Wandsworth. Then again, telling someone that he lived anywhere other than with the Dursleys would have been nice.

A short while later, they arrived at their destination. When they finally came to a stop, they were in the drive of a very nice pale blue two-story house. The front yard was beautifully kept, though the grass in the lawn was clearly drying up (it had been very hot for weeks, and hosepipe use restricted). Harry noted how all the houses on this street had dry lawns, while many of the ones on Privet Drive were green and lush, as if there was no water concerns at all. A beautiful wrought-iron fence covered in creeping flowering vines lined the walk to the front door.

Harry took everything in. This was certainly not Grimmauld Place. Since he didn’t know this street was his final destination, he hadn’t paid attention to the street name sign when they turned onto it. He looked at the front door and saw a post box hanging there. Harry was far enough away that he could not see if there was a name on it or not. However, considering how perfect this house seemed, Harry had a fairly good idea where he was.

His feeling was strengthened when he looked back at Dan and Emma. The looks on their faces after seeing his awed expression as he looked at the house could only be described as overwhelming pride.

“In you go, Harry,” Dan said. “You have to carry Hedwig with you. I’ll get your trunk.”

“Just go up and ring the bell, dear.” Emma encouraged him. “Someone is inside waiting.”

Nervous (he didn’t know why), Harry got out of the car, collected Hedwig’s cage, and walked up to the front door. He stopped a moment and looked at the post box. Number 8, Broomhill Road. Shifting Hedwig’s cage in his arms slightly, he was able to reach to bell. Within three seconds of ringing the bell, the door opened. Standing there was the only proof he needed of where he was: Hermione.

But Harry was taken aback slightly. This was not the Hermione he was used to. It was Hermione away from school, alone with her family. This was Hermione on holiday. No worries about homework, no school books, no boring sea of black robes. Harry had seen Hermione in Muggle clothes many times but never anything like this. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but the first word that came to mind was ‘cute,’ though he wasn’t sure that did it justice.

She was wearing a pair of tan shorts and a pink T-shirt. On the shirt in sparkling, glittery silver letters was the word “PRINCESS.” She must have had the shirt for a long time since the pink was fading and the sparkling material of the letters was cracked and beginning to fall off. It was also obvious to Harry that it no longer fit her very well.

“Harry! Come in, come in!” Hermione said very excitedly. Behind him, he heard Dan unloading his trunk from the car.

As Harry walked through the door, he felt... something. He wasn’t sure what it was; it could have just been the sudden drop in temperature from the air conditioning.

As soon as he had set Hedwig’s cage down, Harry found himself with a face full of bushy brown hair and a pair of arms wrapped around him in a bone-crunching hug.

“Oh Harry! You’re here. You’re finally here! It’s SO good to see you again!” A little surprised, Harry couldn’t really do anything but return the hug. After the first few seconds, which were very nice and pleasant, Harry began to feel something else.

His eyes were starting to get warm. After what he had been feeling for the last three weeks, being hugged like this was starting to break down every emotional barrier within him. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to see him cry. It wasn’t that he was afraid she wouldn’t understand. Perhaps it was that he knew she WOULD understand. He didn’t want her to have to deal with that only thirty seconds in the door.

Fortunately, he was spared that possibility when he heard Emma clear her throat behind him. Hermione immediately let him go, and then quickly turned to pick up Hedwig’s cage. As she turned, he could have sworn her eyes were glistening slightly.

Doing her best to keep her back to him, Hermione carried Hedwig’s cage into the living room. In an uneven voice she said, “Let’s just move this out of the hallway.” By the time she returned, her eyes (and his) had returned to normal.

Harry stood there for a moment, and then finally asked what had been on his mind from the second the door opened. “Princess?” he inquired with a smile.

Hermione quickly looked down at her shirt. With a slightly embarrassed look, she laughed lightly. “Oh yes, this. Actually, it’s something of an inside joke with my dad. He always called me his ‘Little Princess’ when I was small. Then, when I went to Hogwarts, he bought this for me. You know... how fairy tales always seem to have magic and princesses in them. I’ve had this since first year.”

“Makes sense. It’s very nice, really,” Harry said with a grin. The grin slowly got bigger. “Though... I suppose it could’ve been worse. He could’ve bought you one of those “Property of Prince Harry” shirts I saw all of those girls wearing on the television a couple weeks ago.”

Hermione’s earlier embarrassed look was nothing compared to the one she was fighting to control. Harry’s grin became as wide as humanly possible. He DID buy her one of those too, Harry said to himself, trying not to laugh.

Hermione, finally recovering from her blush, gave Harry a quick look over. “Well, I wouldn’t be too quick to judge if I were you, Harry. Mr. I-don’t-have-anything-clean-so-I’m-going-to-wear-my-school-clothes.”

Now thoroughly embarrassed for the third time in two hours over his attire, Harry decided he should quit while he was ahead (if he even was).

As Dan carried Harry’s trunk into the living room and Emma headed to the kitchen, Harry and Hermione, not for the first time, exchanged as series of looks that contained an entire conversation, without even saying a word.

A searching stare from Hermione. Do you want to talk?

A slight shake of his head by Harry. Not really.

An unsure nod and a slightly piercing look. OK, but you need to... sometime.

A resigned nod, then a half smile. Yes, I know. Later, I promise.

A much happier smile. OK, whenever you’re ready.

Another happy smile. Thanks. I promise.

With that, Hermione gave Harry another hug, this one much quicker and more for reassurance. Again, Harry could only return it. Once they separated, they walked into the kitchen where Emma had started a kettle. As they walked in, they were followed by Dan.

“Care for a cup of tea, Harry?” Emma asked.

“Yes, please,” Harry answered.

“Well, while we wait, Hermione dear, why don’t you explain to Harry here what exactly is going on,” Dan suggested. “Both your mother and I know you’re the only one who can.”

“OK,” Hermione started, and then took a deep breath. “To make a long story short Harry, you have been relocated away from Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. This was done, as I hope the Headmaster told you, because it was in your best interests. Not in the best interests of him, or in the Order, but you. I’m quite sure you know why.”

“Yeah,” Harry said grimly. “If they had left me there to wallow in my own misery all summer, I probably would have just wasted away. Can’t you just see the headline in The Prophet? ‘The Boy Who Lived Loses Will To Live.’“

Unnerved, Hermione quickly replied, “You shouldn’t joke about things like that, Harry.”

“I wasn’t,” he whispered, almost resignedly.

Now completely shocked, Hermione continued, “All the more reason to get you out of there.” Emma and Dan, who Harry had completely forgotten were there, nodded emphatically.

“So then, with your ‘blood protections,’ as he called them, intact, he set about transferring all of the other protections from Privet Drive elsewhere. It turns out there were quite a few. That’s why it took him almost an entire day to cast all the necessary the charms,” Hermione explained. “Obviously, the Burrow is out of the question, as it was last year. Unfortunately, Grimmauld Place is not an ideal place for us right now. I’ll explain that later.

“So that left us with only one option left. Once it was decided, the Headmaster started putting the charms in place. The keystone to everything is a new Fidelius Charm to replace the one that was protecting you at number four.”

Harry interrupted, very surprised. “But isn’t all that a lot of work? Especially the Fidelius Charm? Why would he do all that?”

“It was because of ‘an old man’s mistakes,’ he said,” Hermione explained. “He said you would understand that.”

Harry did, and he wasn’t sure how he could express that.

“So, to let you in on the big secret...” Hermione started, very excited. This was obviously what she had been waiting for. “You’re staying with us, Harry!”

Ever since he saw the house, he had a feeling that this was where everything was leading. Hearing Hermione say that he was staying with them, he felt a very peculiar sensation sweep through him. He wasn’t sure what it was.

Allowing a few moments for everything sink in, Harry considered everything that had been said so far. “You said there’s a new Fidelius Charm in place protecting me here? But your parents couldn’t tell me where I was staying. Who’s the Secret Keeper?” Harry asked, still not putting two and two together.

Fighting to keep the huge grin on her face from taking over, she replied very quickly, “I am.”

Harry smiled. I should have known, he said to himself. That probably explains that feeling when she told me I was staying here. After all, what else could that have been?

---

A/N: There is actually a Broomhill Road in Wandsworth. Click here if you’d like to see it.

I was looking around London (thank you Google maps) trying to decide where to set the Grangers’ home. I saw Wandsworth, and decided it was too perfect to pass up. Zooming it to street level, I found Broomhill Road. A few miles west of Broomhill Rd. is another street I almost used: Radcliffe Square. It would have been really funny I thought, but Harry and Hermione wouldn’t be able to share in that. So I went with Broomhill. I just made up the house number. If there really is a Number 8, Broomhill Road, I’m sorry, or you’re welcome, whichever you prefer. :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though after HBP, I’m not sure I would want to. No, I take that back, I would want to own it, just not be the one to write it. No, I take that back too. I would want to. Then maybe HBP wouldn’t have happened like that. I’ll show you delusional. Oh, I’m wandering, aren’t I? Where was I? Oh yes.... I’m just playing here.

A/N: First chapter post-HBP. I need a warm and fuzzy feeling. I must again acknowledge my wonderful beta, MapleMountain. Even your smart-aleck comments help make this story better... but you already knew that, didn’t you? :-) Thank you.

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Chapter 6. Settling In.

Harry stood there for a few moments, slightly amused seeing how excited Hermione was about the whole situation. Leave it to Hermione to get this excited when there’s a fancy bit of magic involved.

Staring at the grin on her face, he literally jumped when the kettle started to whistle. He had forgotten that Emma put it on only minutes earlier until the water started boiling. Now, it was everyone else’s turn to look at Harry with amused expressions. He tried as hard as he could to look offended at their stares, but even he thought his startle was funny. By the time Dan had taken the kettle off the stove and poured the water into a teapot, everyone in the kitchen was laughing, including Harry.

The effects of his laughter still not having yet worn off, Harry stared for a moment at the tea cup placed in front of him. He wasn’t even looking at the cup; he didn’t notice the Hogwarts crest on the cup and saucer. As Emma poured the water in the cup, he watched as the tea leaves absorbed the water. As the leaves began to swell, he realized he was feeling the same thing.

It was as though his own insides were beginning to swell. The empty hollowness left by Sirius’s death was no longer quite as large. He had just laughed, really laughed. He could not remember the last time he laughed like that.

Before today, all there was was nearly three weeks of misery and emptiness. Before that was That Night (which he still called it) at the Department of Mysteries, and the aftermath that ensued. And before that was what seemed like unending months of haunting visions of dark corridors and locked doors.

There had to be some laugher in there, somewhere. Wasn’t there? Harry asked himself. If there was, he could not remember it. All that he knew was that he was starting to feel better than he had in a long time. He knew it would be a slow process, but it would happen. Despite the fact that Voldemort was now more dangerous than ever, he felt as thought things could only get better.

As Mrs. Granger finished pouring the water into his cup, he lifted his gaze to see Hermione, who had sat down across from him at the table, quickly look down at her own cup. He was quite sure she had been watching him as he stared blankly into his cup.

Harry turned to Emma. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Granger,” he said.

As she filled the other cups, she replied back kindly to him. “You’re very welcome, Harry. And remember, it’s Emma. Whilst you are here, Emma.” Setting down the tea pot, she put on a most serious expression, one that Harry knew was just for show. “Or else I shall have to start calling you Mr. Potter. And I guarantee you don’t want me doing that.”

Harry could see Dan nodding his head most emphatically behind Emma’s back. This was the second time Emma had asked him to call her by her first name. Knowing how insistent her daughter could be, he decided he would not try for a third.

“Yes Emma,” Harry said with a sheepish grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione smile.

“Good! I’m glad that’s settled,” Dan chimed in as Emma sat down to wait for her leaves to steep.

Fully agreeing with Dan’s sentiment, Harry looked back down at his tea cup. “Hey, these have the Hogwarts crest on them. Hermione, you didn’t—”

“No, I most certainly did not, Harry,” Hermione retorted quickly, looking quite scandalized. “I found them in a shop in Diagon Alley. I bought them for Mum and Dad back in the beginning of second year. I sent them home as a Christmas present.”

Harry smiled. He imagined that while Dan and Emma were trying out their new tea set, their daughter was lying in one of Madam Pomfrey’s hospital beds trying to figure out how to sit comfortably with a tail.

Once everyone had finished their tea, Harry stood up and gathered all the tea cups. Immediately, Emma tried to reach out and grab her own. “Harry, dear. Please don’t bother with that. You’re our guest here.”

“Please, Emma,” Harry replied, “it’s the least I can do. The three of you rescued me from the Dursleys and have graciously offered to take me into your home for the time being. Clearing away a few tea cups seems only fair.” Harry noticed that Emma and Dan both smiled slightly when he said “three of you rescued me.” He assumed they were just remembering the “drama” of his rescue.

Emma didn’t protest, this time. To be honest, she was pleasantly surprised that he used her given name so quickly. If the three of them were going to provide Harry a warm and safe environment, one that they and many other people felt he needed after recent events, the first thing that had to go were the formalities. If Harry didn’t feel comfortable around them, or worse, felt anyway intimidated by them, then there was little chance he would be able to assimilate this latest loss.

Emma smiled at Harry. If Emma was anything like Hermione, he knew it meant, Fine, but don’t think you’re doing the dishes later.

Once the table was clear, Dan stood up and walked towards Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Harry, let’s get you settled in.” As they walked back into the living room, Harry noticed that Hermione and Emma had remained in the kitchen, still sitting at the table.

Back in the living room, Harry went over and picked up Hedwig’s cage as Dan reached for Harry’s trunk. “What do you say, girl? Do you like it here already?” Harry asked his winged companion. Hedwig stared back at him with her large amber eyes, hooting quite contentedly.

“Yeah,” Harry continued wistfully, “I suppose you do. You’ve already been here before, haven’t you?” He reached into the cage and stroked her head several times. She tilted her head up to nip at his fingers affectionately.

“We have a guest room upstairs, Harry,” Dan explained as he started up the stairs. “That’s where you’ll be staying.”

“Okay,” Harry acknowledged. “You’ll probably get tired of hearing me say this, but thank you. Thank you for picking me up and thank you for offering to let me stay here.”

As he and Harry walked into the guest room, Dan chuckled slightly. “You’re welcome, Harry. You know, I probably shouldn’t tell you this... but this was all Hermione’s idea. Earlier, when you said ‘three of you,’ it just struck me as amusing. Our only involvement was driving the getaway car. We agreed of course, but Hermione was the mastermind behind it all. Listening to her... convince... your headmaster was all the convincing we needed. And don’t feel bad about saying ‘Thank You.’ Good manners are never to be ashamed of,” Dan said pleasantly, watching Harry very carefully.

“Well, to be honest Dan, I haven’t always shown them. For much of last school year, I felt the whole world was against me. On more than one occasion, most regrettably, I wasn’t the most friendly person to be around.”

Harry’s eyes were beginning to get warm again as he recalled with shame his behavior. He blinked a couple of times. “Your wonderful daughter, I feel, bore the brunt of it. Not because I was really upset at her, but because she always seemed to be there at my side.”

It was starting to become difficult for Harry to see clearly as his eyes started to water. He did notice, however, that Dan seemed to conveniently turn around right after he started blinking. As Harry was talking, Dan wheeled his trunk into a corner and placed Hedwig’s cage on the table nearest the window. Dan kept his back to Harry until he finally finished talking.

Dan turned around just in time to see Harry quickly pull his hand down after brushing away a tear. “Yes, Harry, I know.” Dan said in a very quiet voice. “She actually writes home a lot during the school year. She wants us to be involved in her life as much as we can, even when we’re down here and she’s up there at school.”

Moving over to the bed, Dan sat down on the end of it. “We always seem to find out whenever you make some spectacular grab to catch the Snitch or when Draco Malfoy, is that his name—” Harry nodded, “when he said something particularly mean to you. You’ve made quite an impression on our daughter. And yes, we heard about most everything you went through last year.”

Harry sat down on the chair Dan had waved his hand towards. “Now that it’s come up, that is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Uh oh, Harry thought to himself. Here it comes. ‘How dare you be so cruel to my daughter?!’

“As I’m sure you know, Hermione is our only daughter. She means the world to us. I’m sure you can imagine how protective I am of her. I know there are things she hasn’t told us about what happens up there at your school.” Dan’s expression was very guarded. Harry could not tell what he was feeling. “If we had known then what we know now, we might not have let her go off and join your world. But, at the time, it seemed like such a wonderful opportunity, so how could we have refused?

“As the years went by, and we read more and more about what went on in your world, as we started seeing less and less of her on holidays, we knew that the day might come when we truly regretted letting her go. But it had already been done. She was now a part of that world. Taking her away might have killed her.” A muscle in Dan’s jaw twitched.

“Not physically, of course. But mentally, emotionally, spiritually, yes. We might have gotten her back alive, but SHE would’ve been dead.” As Dan paused for a moment, he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Harry could tell that his eyes had gone out of focus; he was staring at some nonexistent point on the wall behind Harry.

“She took last year pretty hard, Harry. She did her best to keep it hidden from you, but we could tell. It was hard for her to watch you go through everything you had to endure. You are her best friend, Harry. Every time you weren’t the most friendly person to be around, it hurt her.”

Feeling even worse after hearing what Hermione had really gone through, Harry looked down and started staring intently at his trainers. Seeing the expression on Harry’s face before he looked down, Dan quickly clarified.

“Harry, you are wrong about one thing. She did not have to bear the brunt of it all. You did. It hurt her... not because she was near you during your outbursts, but because she could do little to help make it better. About the only two things I remember her getting truly excited about were that study group the two of you led and that interview you gave in that magazine.”

Harry suddenly lifted his head. “But she did, Mr. Granger — er — Dan,” Harry quickly corrected himself after seeing the mock evil glare Dan had given him. “She did make things better. She was there. She was always there with me. She always has been. Even when Ron and I didn’t see eye to eye during the Triwizard Tournament, she was there.” Harry felt betrayed by another tear falling from his right eye. Dan, however didn’t seem to notice it.

“You should probably tell her that, Harry. I think deep down she knows it, but it would probably make all the difference in the world for her to actually hear you say that. I know I’ve said this several times now, but, Harry, you are her best friend. She needs to know that she was able to help you.”

Dan’s expression lightened slightly. “She’s happy now, now that you’re here, but she’d been in a right state ever since she came home three weeks ago. When you didn’t answer her first letter, it really worried her. After waiting for three days for your response, she immediately sent letters to both your Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. I don’t know what was in them, but when their replies came back... well, let’s just say she wasn’t at all happy with the responses she got back.” Dan smiled slightly.

“The female Granger temper?” Harry asked with a smile, his eyes still watery but at least no longer leaking.

“Ohhhh yesssss,” Dan confirmed in a whisper. “That’s when she started writing that second letter. I don’t think I’ve every seen her put so much time and effort into anything she’s ever written.” Dan smiled again. “Then again, I don’t get much opportunity to see her homework, other than what she has over the summer, so I haven’t much to compare it to.”

Harry smiled again. “Well, I can tell you that I’ve read her class notes for the last five years and read many of her essays. Even I was impressed by that letter. And that’s coming from someone who was so mad when he first read it that he almost tore it into a thousand pieces.”

Harry took a deep breath. “You know, I think that letter may’ve saved my life. I doubt I was in any mortal peril, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually, yes. I quite possibly may have just sat there, locked away in my room all summer. Who knows what would have emerged on September first. I mean, I did after all manage to ignore nine letters over the course of about two weeks.”

Dan’s attention snapped back onto Harry. “Nine letters?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes. It seems you and Hermione weren’t the only ones to write me letters.” Harry pulled Hermione’s letter and Dan and Emma’s letter out of his pocket. “The others are in my trunk. Somehow, I managed to never get around to writing replies to them. But then she sent me that second letter. After a very long night, I finally felt as though I had finally come out of a long, dark tunnel that I had been trapped in.”

Harry paused and took another deep breath. “I was quite sure that that letter must have been hard for her to write, so I knew I had to let her know what it meant to me for her to do that.”

Remembering how he had felt before and after reading that letter, Harry’s eyes again began to water again slightly. He tried blinking to reduce the effect, but his attempt was futile.

Dan, who by all outward appearances still seemed to not have noticed Harry’s difficulty, surprised Harry by pulling a tissue from a box on the bedside table Harry hadn’t noticed.

“We haven’t used this guest room for quite a while. As a result, I’m afraid it may be a little dusty in here. It looks as though you may have gotten something in your eye. Here,” Dan encouraged Harry as he handed him the tissue.

“Dust?” Harry asked. He looked around the room. It appeared spotless. The sunlight pouring in through the window illuminated no trace of dust in the air.

“Yes, Harry. Dust,” Dan replied with an understanding look.

Harry took the tissue and cleared the “dust” away. “Thanks,” he told Dan.

After pointing to a bin in the corner of the room, Dan again turned his attention to Harry. “If you don’t mind my asking Harry, what was in that letter you sent her? She seemed so withdrawn until that letter arrived. And then it was like she just came back to life,” Dan explained. “We could see her holding it, and it didn’t look like there was much written there. We asked, but she didn’t want to show us what was in it.”

Harry seemed surprised and slightly amused by this revelation. “Actually, it was just two words. Well, now that I think about it, there might’ve also been a ‘Dear Hermione,’ and a ‘Harry’ in there too, but to be honest, I don’t even remember. I spent so much time worrying about what to say in that letter that I didn’t really focus on anything else.”

Harry smiled slightly in an embarrassed sort of way. “It’s funny actually. After all that thinking and debating and worrying about what to say, in the end, I ended up only saying two words. But they were probably the hardest two words I’ve ever had to say in my life.”

Harry paused and thought a moment. “But at the same time, they were also the easiest two words I’ve ever had to say.” Harry looked at Dan. He was quite sure every emotion known to man was playing out across Dan’s face. But most of all there was anticipation and confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t suppose I’m making much sense here, am I?” Harry conceded.

“Well, it might help if you actually told me what those two words were. I can think of a lot of combinations of two words. Some good, some... not so good,” Dan observed with a slight laugh.

Harry looked surprised. “I didn’t actually say what they were, did I?” Dan shook his head, amused. “I’m sorry,” Harry laughed. “We’ve been dancing around it the whole time and I never even said what it was. ‘Thank you.’ The two words I wrote were ‘Thank you.’“

Dan’s expression immediately cleared.

“I didn’t know what else to say. Everything else seemed meaningless without that. After that one, all the rest were much easier. I started writing replies to all of the other letters. I got them all done, except for two.” Harry again held up the two letters in his hand. “I had a hard time with these two. All of the others, I just sat down and started writing. Once I got started, the words just seemed to flow until I had said what I needed to say.”

Harry looked down at textured gray carpet. “But with these two... I don’t know. I know what I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t. It was like I had so much to say that none of it could get out. Like a bunched up queue at a door. Everything tried to get out at once, so nothing ended up getting out. I—”

“Harry,” Dan interrupted him. “I understand. I can’t speak for my wife, but I think this little chat here has said more than any number of written words could ever say.” Dan stood up and smiled.

“Though I will admit ‘Thank you’ comes pretty close,” Dan said. “Powerful words, Harry, as powerful as most any spell you can think of. It’s ironic. Sometime we can say more in two or three little words, words we’ve all heard a million times, than some public speaker and an army of speech writers ever could.”

After a few awkward silent moments, Harry also stood up. After setting the two letters down on his bed, he started following Dan out of the room. Right as he reached the doorway, Dan suddenly stopped and turned around. It was so sudden, Harry nearly bumped into him. Dan seemed to be debating on whether or not to say something. After a moment, he finally decided.

“Speaking of thank-yous, Harry, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. As my wife mentioned, it seems as though we’ve been intentionally kept from meeting you properly all these years. Fate can be a cruel mistress, Harry. At least now I can finally tell you. Thank you, Harry. Thank you for rescuing my only daughter.”

Harry looked stunned, and then guilty. Realizing that Harry was about to say something to the effect that it was his fault for her needing to be rescued, Dan quickly continued to explain what he meant. “Thank you for rescuing her from herself. As you may or may not know, our little Hermione can tend to get a teensy bit carried away with her books and school work.

“She didn’t really have many friends at her school before Hogwarts. When she got the letter, we were so hopeful that this exciting new world might help draw her out a little more.” Dan paused for a moment and then sighed lightly. “Then we got her first letter after school started. She had found the library.”

Harry smiled in understanding; Dan sighed in defeat. “Her entire letter went on and on about all the new things she was learning, and all the new books she had found. We were worried that she would drive herself further into her books and studies, now that there was this whole new world for her to explore.

“I mean, out here, for example, she might not have known every little detail about the French Revolution at eleven years old, but she knew that it was there... waiting to be studied. She would get to it when she got to it. But in there, everything was new to her.” Harry smiled as he remembered similar feelings.

“She didn’t know what there was that she didn’t know. Does that make sense? Out here, she knew the world was just one big puzzle, a puzzle with the edges assembled, but still a lot of empty places for her to fill in. But in there, not only was she given an empty puzzle board, but she didn’t even know what the boundaries of that puzzle were. It only excited her even more. She wanted to learn about everything.

“Though, I must admit, we were surprised about one thing. Buried in with all the books and spells she was so excited about, in that letter there was actually a reference to another human being.” Dan gave Harry a pointed stare, then smirked slightly. “Of course, we shouldn’t have been surprised really. It was just some boy she met on the train, a boy she—” Dan nodded, “had read about in a book.” Harry blushed for some reason; he didn’t know why.

Smiling at Harry’s reaction, Dan continued. “After the second letter, we were beginning to wonder if there was anyone at that school other than the teachers and the librarian.” Dan and Harry both chuckled for a moment. Once he had stopped, Dan’s face dropped slightly. “Then she wrote us about Halloween. She told us how someone had said some mean things about her, and how she had... well, not reacted well to it. She told us how she came out of the toilet stall and looked up to see what was in there with her.”

Dan’s face paled slightly, but then quickly returned to normal. “And then she told us how you, and your friend Ron too, had saved her life. From that point on, her letters started sounding less and less like book reports, and more like a child spending time with her friends. Over the years, we heard all about the trouble the three of you would get into, all the confrontations you had with, what did she call him, the ‘foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.’“ Harry tried not to smile.

“She even told us about your Quidditch matches. You know, before she went to Hogwarts, I don’t think Hermione knew the difference between a football and a volleyball. I mean, they’re both round, they’re both white, and they’re both about the same size. One just has black spots on it, right?” Dan smiled again.

“But ask her anything about the history of Quidditch, ask her what the final scores were in any of your games. Ask her how many times you’ve had some accident during a game, and she can tell you.”

Harry looked surprised, to say the least. “As I said Harry, thank you for rescuing her from herself. If it weren’t for you... and your friend Ron, she wouldn’t be the person she is today. She’d have probably moved into the library by now, and not known the name of a single person at that school who wasn’t a teacher.

“This may be hard to understand, Harry, but I’d rather her be out there, getting into a little trouble every now and then, than to be locked away in the library or her dormitory, isolated in her books from everyone.”

Dan now turned his attention fully to Harry and looked directly into his eyes. “And YES, I’d even rather her live a full life and face a little danger everyone once in a while, than for her to lock herself away in a room where she won’t live at all, even though she’s perfectly safe.”

Again, Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but Dan didn’t let him. “Do you know why, Harry?” Harry shook his head. “It’s because you’ve always been there by her side. We both know that the world is not a safe place for either Muggle or Wizard. She may conveniently leave out some of the details in some of her letters, but I think we’ve picked up enough here and there over the years to know that all of you are not as safe as your professors would like us to believe.”

Dan took a step towards Harry. “But... but... I know that she will always be safe as long as you are there with her. She could just stay home and knit more of those hats she’s always talking about, but she’d still be in danger... sometimes trouble comes looking for you. I’d rather her be somewhere where there are people—” Dan put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “who can help keep her safe. Thank you, Harry. Thank you.”

Dan extended his hand to Harry; Harry reached out to shake it. As he did, Dan suddenly pulled his arm in and reached his other arm around and drew Harry into a quick hug. One pat on the back later, they separated, both straightening out their shirts trying to look nonchalant.

“Aww, isn’t that cute?” a voice behind them cooed. Both Dan and Harry jumped in shock. “Trying to wipe each other’s boy-germs off themselves. Absolutely precious. Oh, I wish I had my camera with me.” Emma started laughing.

“Hermione,” she called downstairs, “you just missed the most adorable scene here a moment ago.” She continued to laugh.

“Emma,” Dan hissed, “you scared the living daylights out of me. How long were you standing there anyway?”

“Not long,” Emma replied mysteriously, “but long enough,” she finished with a smile. “I just wanted to check on the two of you. You’ve been up here for quite a while and we hadn’t heard anything, so I just wanted to make sure you were both still alive, and to make sure you didn’t read Harry the riot act about living in the same house as ‘your only daughter.’“

“What’d I miss?” Hermione’s voice called up eagerly from downstairs.

Seeing the look on Dan’s face, Emma answered back, “I’ll tell you later.”

“No, you won’t,” Dan immediately told her in a whisper. Emma smiled deviously back at Dan.

Knowing that he already lost that battle, Dan turned back around towards Harry. “Well, dear, we never got that far in our little talk. Did we Harry?”

Harry looked confused and shook his head, unsure if he should or not.

“Right. But to be honest, after talking with him, even if I thought I needed to talk to him about that, I don’t really think I’d need to.”

Harry started blushing again. Why’d that have to happen? I didn’t do or say or think anything off-color!

Dan had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sure Harry here is quite aware of what our daughter is capable of. In the end, I’m sure he’d rather face an angry me than an angry Hermione. Isn’t that right Harry?” Dan asked.

Thoughts he had never before associated with Hermione suddenly raced into his mind. Everything was swept away as the sight of an enraged Hermione appeared, with her wand pointed at him; Harry visibly shuddered. He wondered what might appear on his face if he ever did something dishonorable to Hermione... if he still had a face, that is.

Emma laughed slightly. “Yes, I can see what you mean, Dan.” The sound of Emma laughing brought Harry back to room he was in. The amused expressions on Dan and Emma were hard to ignore. Harry couldn’t help but give an embarrassed smile.

“Well boys,” Emma started, “if you’re all settled in up here, what say we head out for a little shopping? We’ve already taken the day off work, so we might as well make the most of it.” Emma gave Dan a fleeting glance. “I dare say he could stand for some new clothes.”

Dan clapped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What do you say, Harry? Want to get out of the house for a bit?”

The idea of being anywhere other than back in his room on Privet Drive certainly appealed to Harry. But then a thought struck him. “But, I don’t have any money with me. It’s all back at Gringotts.” For some reason, Harry didn’t feel uncomfortable saying that.

Dan smiled kindly. “Don’t worry about that, Harry. We’ll cover everything while we’re out, and then you can just repay us when we go to pick up your school supplies for next term. Deal?”

Harry felt greatly relieved. “Deal,” he said with a smile. The three of them then left Harry’s new room and headed downstairs. They found Hermione sitting on the sofa that faced the staircase. Not surprisingly, she was reading a book. At the sound of them coming down, she looked up and smiled. Harry was surprised by how comforting he found that smile. It was as though some things always seemed constant. What exactly those “things” were, Harry was not entirely sure. But they were comforting all the same.

Hermione set down the book. “So, are you coming Harry?” She looked genuinely excited. “I mentioned to Mum that your regular clothes were little more than your cousin’s old hand-me-downs, so she suggested we go shopping.” Emma tried to hide a smile when Hermione said the word “little.”

“We needed to make a trip anyway, so I figured we could do it all at once,” Hermione explained; Harry nodded.

Hermione jumped up and started towards the stairs. “I’m going to change real quick, and then we can go.” Harry sat down on the same sofa Hermione had been in. Since it faced the staircase, he watched her go upstairs. He could not help but find it funny as she practically leaped and bound up the stairs. He held back a laugh and shook his head in amusement.

Harry turned towards Dan and Emma, who had sat down in the loveseat on his side. “So, are we going to be waiting here long?” he asked.

Emma turned and looked back at the stairs. “Well, it depends if she tries to do anything with her hair. If so, we might be here a while. If not, she’ll be down in a couple minutes.”

A couple minutes later, Hermione came walking down the stairs. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a different T-shirt. A shirt he recognized... from television... a few weeks ago.

It was now Harry’s turn to feel embarrassed by that shirt, which he noticed was curiously new-looking. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I was only joking about that shirt. I didn’t realize he actually bought you one.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Dan vigorously shaking his head as if to say “Don’t blame me for that.”

Hermione, who seemed to have not noticed her father’s reaction, slowly looked up at Harry with a guilty grin. “Well... it is a nice shirt, and I obviously can’t wear it to school. Can you imagine Malfoy’s or Snape’s reactions if they saw me wearing this? Or Lavender’s or Parvati’s? Or worse, Ron’s or Ginny’s?”

Both of the teenagers shared a laugh. “Besides, we’re going to be in the middle of a Muggle shopping mall. No one there knows you’re Harry. So, are we all ready? Got your wand, Harry?”

Harry’s face immediately blanched. He had forgotten his wand! It was still in his trunk. How could he have forgotten to take out his wand?!

Hermione immediately read the look on his face and her face changed into mothering mode. “Harry...” she lectured.

“I for— erm — sorry. It’s still in my trunk.” Harry leaned forward as he started to stand up.

“No, no, I’m still up, I’ll go get it,” she offered.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry replied sheepishly.

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment and cracked the faintest hint of a smile. “Yes, well... I promise you won’t be thanking me if there is a next time.”

As she turned to go back upstairs, Harry could not tell if the look on her face was teasing or threatening. Probably a little of both, Harry decided wisely.

Harry looked back at Dan and Emma. Dan was wearing an I told you so expression. Emma saw this and elbowed him in the ribs lightly. “Professor Dumbledore seemed to think you should be relatively safe in the middle of a Muggle city for short periods. Who’d think to look for you in the middle of Wandsworth, especially since that spell precludes anyone from even thinking you’d be with us? But, there’s never any excuse for being unprepared, is there?”

“No,” Harry agreed. In all honesty, for the last three weeks, he really hadn’t cared at all, about anything. That was why his wand was still tucked away uselessly in his trunk. In my trunk, Harry remembered. Harry was suddenly embarrassed at the idea of Hermione having to dig through all his dirty clothes to find his wand. He really wished he had put out some laundry back at Privet Drive.

Hermione soon came bounding down the stairs, obviously none the worse for her experience. As Harry stood up, she handed him his wand and shook her head in feigned disappointment. “Thanks,” was all he could muster.

She smiled. “You owe me one,” she warned.

Harry safely stowed his wand into his pocket as Dan and Emma stood up. As he watched Dan help Emma to her feet and saw her smile lovingly in return, Harry felt a twinge of... well, not jealousy, but longing, maybe, as he wondered what it would feel like to be able to help a special someone up like that and have her smile back at him like that.

His thoughts were interrupted by Dan’s cheerful call of “Everyone ready?” Getting three nods in reply, they all headed for the front door.

As the four of them headed down the walk towards the car, Harry thought for a moment about the last twenty-four hours or so. A little over a day ago, Hedwig had delivered Hermione’s reply that had seemed to set everything into motion: Dumbledore’s letter, packing up to move out of the Dursleys’, Dan and Emma picking him up, and finally arriving here, his new temporary home.

He could not ever remember feeling this excited. He should be miserable after Sirius’s death. He should be scared with Voldemort on the loose. But instead, he was happy and care free... his only concern currently about actually having to choose his own clothes for the first time in his life. He didn’t know what had brought about these changes in the way he was feeling. He promised himself, however, that if he ever figured out what it was, he wouldn’t ever let go of it, for anything.

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A/N: Check out an AWESOME photo-manip made by Evernight based on a scene in this chapter!

http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=799

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though after HBP, I’m not sure I would want to. No, I take that back, I would want to own it, just not be the one to write it. No, I take that back too. I would want to. Then maybe HBP wouldn’t have happened like that. I’ll show you delusional. Oh, I’m wandering, aren’t I? Where was I? Oh yes.... I’m just playing here.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has left a review. It is incredibly motivating! Thanks! And of course, thanks to my beta MapleMountain. As we’ve seen in this story and in RL recently, three cheers for A/C!! Yay!

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Chapter 7. Gone Shopping.

The car ride to the shopping center was surprisingly quiet. The only sounds to be heard were the dull roar of the road noise as the tires drove on the asphalt and the radio station Emma had tuned into as they started on their way.

At one point or another during the drive, Hermione, Emma, and Dan had each intended on trying to strike up a conversation with Harry just to break the silence. They all decided against it however, when they saw the look on his face.

Harry was sitting in the back seat, next to Hermione, with the biggest grin on his face any of them had ever seen, including Hermione. The only word that could describe it was excitement. As they drove, he was constantly looking around at the city that passed them by, trying to take in everything.

Harry felt like a little kid who had just moved to a new town. To be honest, it really wasn’t that far from the truth. He wanted to see everything. He watched as they drove past a park that was filled with children on the play equipment. He looked at all the advertising billboards they drove by.

He was even excited to see some guy in a sports car being given a traffic citation by the local constabulary. All around him, it was life as normal. No war. No Voldemort. No worries, except how hot it would get and if the stores would run out of ice cream.

Finally, they arrived at their destination: the main shopping center in Wandsworth. Harry could not help but be impressed. In his first ten years, he could count on his fingers the number of times he had gone shopping with the Dursleys.

They always made every effort to unload him onto their neighbor, Mrs. Figg, whenever they went out. If they ever had to go out to buy “things” and she was unavailable, they always put the trip off until she could watch him. On the rare occasion Harry had accompanied them out, it was only to the grocery store. Even then, he had been told to not look at anything and to not touch anything. And as usual, there were the constant warnings against any “funny business.”

Harry was so excited, he could barely contain himself. As the four of them walked through the car park, Emma tapped Harry on his shoulder to get his attention. “Where do you want to go, Harry?”

Harry looked at her with a happy, but slightly bewildered look. “You tell me, Emma. This is my first time in a shopping center. Where do I need to go?”

A slightly sad look swept across her face for a fraction of a second, but was then replaced with her normal cheerful expression. “Well, we need to stop at the grocery, but we’ll do that last. I imagine Hermione here will want to stop in the book store.”

Apparently this was a family joke as Harry could see Dan in front of him chuckle a little. Hermione, who was walking next to him, threw her shoulder into Dan’s left arm. In a playfully angry voice, she quipped, “Yes, yes. ‘Hermione can’t resist a book store.’“

Smiling, Emma continued. “So, other than groceries, this trip’s mainly for you. We will definitely need to stop at the department store to get you some new clothes. We can wander around the other shops and see if anything catches your eye. I know everything you need to buy in is Diagon Alley, but maybe you’ll find something here that you want to buy.”

The shopping center they were in was a nice, relatively new mall with about thirty small and medium-sized shops lining a central promenade. At each end were two large stores, a department store on one end, and a grocery store on the other. Walking through the entrance in the middle of the mall, a collective sigh from all four of them could be heard. The mall was air conditioned.

Once they had reached the promenade, they turned right and started in a leisurely stroll towards the department store. Every so often, one of them would see something in a window and walk into the store, the other three following. Coming out of one of the stores, Dan had put his arm around Emma and together the two of them walked side by side.

Again, Harry was surprised by the sudden feelings that evoked. He was quite certain he wanted to do that too. Not to Emma, of course, but to someone... his own special someone, if he ever found one.

He could not help but recall the previous year when Cho Chang rushed up to him after his interview in The Quibbler and started holding his hand. At the time, he seemed happy. But now that day, not that long ago, seemed a mere shadow of its former self, as though it were something he only witnessed instead of actually experiencing.

As he watched Dan and Emma surreptitiously, he was vaguely aware of hearing someone call his name. He nearly had a heart attack when he felt Hermione put her hand in his.

The warmth of her skin touching his blocked out every other sensation in his body. He looked down dumbly at their joined hands. Their arms were now rising towards horizontal as she moved away from him. He looked at her; all he saw was the back of her head as she was pulling him somewhere. Finally feeling a tug in his shoulder, he numbly followed wherever she was leading him.

As they left the skylight-lit promenade, Harry was barely aware that they had entered a shop when the lighting intensity decreased. He was still too entranced by the warm, pleasant feeling that had started in his hand and which was now traveling up his arm to notice where they were.

He had held Hermione’s hand before. Why did this seem so strange? No, not strange... just... different. He tried to remember all the other times he had held her hand. He supposed it must feel different when you weren’t being chased by werewolves, angry centaurs, or Death Eaters. That must be the difference, he convinced himself.

He recognized where he was by the smell before he even looked up. It was a very comforting smell; it reminded him of being back at school. He could feel his entire body immediately relax. It was the smell of parchment. No... that wasn’t it exactly. It was the smell of paper, not parchment, with a hint of ink and glue. Hermione had dragged him one store back, into the book store. He hadn’t even noticed it when they walked by.

Feeling quite out of his element in a book store, he let Hermione lead him around. They slowly wandered around the store, pausing occasionally as she looked at the books in one section or another. He watched as the shop owner, a middle-aged woman, greeted Hermione warmly. It seemed obvious that she recognized her as a book lover, since he assumed it was unlikely she knew Hermione personally, considering she was away at school for more than nine months a year.

The owner then glanced at Harry as he walked by. As he returned her smile, he recognized the all-too-familiar glance up to the scar on his forehead. Unlike every other time however, after she saw it she simply returned to whatever it was she was doing, as though it were unimportant and just any other oddly-shaped scar.

Secretly, Harry found this very comforting. He never really like crowds before... all those people gawking at him, or probably more accurately, his scar. It didn’t really matter to him whether they were pointing in awe, admiration, or more recently ridicule. He just didn’t like being the center of that kind of attention.

He thought back to the scene that had captured his attention right before being led into the book store. If he had to be the center of attention, he’d rather it be the attention of just one person, rather than the entire world. Someone who would hold his hand and take him shopping and...

His musings were interrupted when he heard Hermione snicker slightly. He looked up at the shelf of books she had turned away from. It was shelf with a dozen or so random books on witchcraft, sorcery, and magical folklore—or at least the Muggle ideas of them. Harry could not help but smile as he passed them by also.

Finally, the two of them stopped in front of a large bookcase of used books. There were probably a hundred or so on the shelves and they were not organized in any logical fashion. Hermione ran her hand along the books, reading each title as her fingers passed over the spine. She didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular, simply looking at each one to see if anything interested her.

On the third shelf, Hermione must have seen one that did interest her, for she grabbed it and pulled it off the shelf. As she brought it closer to her, Harry suddenly felt his own left hand being pulled up suddenly. Evidently Hermione had forgotten she was still holding his hand.

“Oh! Sorry,” she whispered to him, blushing slightly. She immediately let go of his hand and took the book, opening it and flipping through the pages. Still able to see traces of pink on her cheeks, Harry thought it was quite funny that she had forgotten she was still holding his hand—funny, that is, until he realized that he too had forgotten she was still holding his hand.

Harry had been so intrigued by the sensation of her hand in his when she first started leading him into the bookstore. When he entered the store and noticed the smells that reminded him of being at Hogwarts, it drove the conscious awareness of that sensation from his mind.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t still feel her hand. It was as though that feeling were the most natural thing in the world. It was so natural that he didn’t notice it, just like how a person might not be aware of their own breathing.

Just like a breath of air, now that her hand was gone, Harry seemed to notice its absence more than its presence. His hand felt curiously cold and empty. Of course, that only made sense since the warm presence was now gone. But still, he felt strangely disappointed by its removal.

Harry looked around for a moment. Dan and Emma were nowhere to be seen. “Erm, Hermione? Do you know where your parents are?” he asked quietly.

Not looking up from her book, she turned another page. “They probably went into to the bath store. It’s two stores up.”

“The bath store?” Harry asked. “Don’t you already have a bath?”

Harry saw her turn her head an inch or so towards him, and then back to her book. She smiled slightly. “No, Harry. It’s not a store where you buy bath tubs. It’s a store where you buy stuff for the bathroom. Fancy linens, natural sponges, bubble solutions, specialty soaps... you know, that kind of stuff.”

Harry did not know. He had quite an incredulous expression on his face “You mean they have stores just for soap and bubble baths?” Hermione nodded. “But why?” he asked sincerely.

Harry saw the book Hermione was holding drop a millimeter or two. “It’s just a girl-thing, Harry. Sometimes we like flowery-smelling soap, or adding scented oil to the bath water. It can be quite relaxing actually, after a long day.”

Harry looked confused. “But, if it’s a girl-thing, why would your dad go in there too?”

Hermione’s mouth twitched as though she was fighting to not smile. “Because, Harry. They’re married. They do everything together,” she explained, still not looking up from the book.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry reasoned. This time Hermione was unable to hold back her smile. “Of course they’d go shopping together.” She let slip a chuckle. It made perfect sense now that she explained it; he didn’t know why she thought it was funny, however.

Finally deciding she didn’t want to buy the book, Hermione closed it and put it back on the shelf. “Anything in here in particular you want to look at, Harry?” she asked.

He looked around at all the shelves of books in the store. “No,” he decided. “There are a couple things I might be interested in reading about, but I don’t think we’ll find those books here.”

“No,” she admitted, “I don’t think we will. I know what you mean. When I come in here, unless I’m looking for something specific, I usually just go look through the used books. Somebody read them, so they must’ve been interesting to someone. I just look through them and see if anything catches my eye. Nothing today, unfortunately.”

As the two of them headed towards the exit, Harry under his own power this time, Hermione waved goodbye to the shop owner.

“Nothing today, dear?” the owner asked; Hermione shook her head. “We should have another shipment of used books come in, in a month or so. Be sure to stop by again before you go back to school.”

“I will,” Hermione promised as they walked out the door and back onto the promenade. As they started walking towards the bath store, Hermione glanced over at Harry and saw the inquisitive look on his face. She knew what he was debating on whether to ask her. “No, Harry, she doesn’t know where I go to school. You may find this hard to believe, but every time we come shopping here, I stop in there.” She looked over and saw Harry with an exaggerated look of disbelief; she rolled her eyes.

“Since the only times I can come shopping with Mum and Dad are on holidays, she only sees me then. She always remembers me, but she can never seem to remember my name.”

“Well, it is a hard name to remember. It does have four syllables, you know,” Harry said teasingly. Hermione lightly swatted his arm.

“So, anyway, she asked why she saw me so often in such a short period, and then never again for so many months. I just told her I went to a private boarding school up north.”

As they reached the bath shop, Harry and Hermione looked in the window. They saw Dan and Emma in the middle of the store, looking at a bottle of something pink. Grabbing his hand again, she pulled him into the store. “Come on, let’s go get them. They’ll be in here all day if we don’t,” she said with a sigh.

As soon as they came up to Dan and Emma, Hermione let go of Harry’s hand. “Hey Mum, Dad,” she said.

Emma turned around. “Oh, there you are, dear.” She looked down at Hermione’s empty hands. “Nothing in the bookstore you wanted?” Hermione shook her head. For the first time that day, Harry suddenly felt quite relieved that she had let go of his hand.

“Oh well, we can always stop at Flourish and Blotts later. Oooh... there is something here you just have to see. Here Dan, hold this for a moment.” Emma handed him the bottle of pink liquid.

The two of them hurried off to the back of the store to look at the specialty soaps. Harry and Dan looked at each other. Harry had to admit that Dan did look a little awkward standing there holding a bottle of pink something. Dan laughed awkwardly. “So Harry, the men are abandoned while the women run off to giggle about soap, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed back as he looked over and saw Hermione and Emma holding something between them and talking excitedly.

“They may be a few minutes, so you might as well go look around,” Dan suggested. “Believe me, you’ll look stranger just standing in the middle of the store than you will looking at all of the different bath oils.” Harry nodded and then started to walk around. As he started looking around, he was surprised at how many guys there actually were in the store.

Probably buying things for their girlfriends, Harry thought with envy. Oh well, when in Rome... He continued looking around the store.

He saw a small display in one corner. Above it was a picture of a silver tap that was pouring water in to a bath filled with bubbles. He opened the sample bottle and smelled it. The scent was very familiar. Harry suddenly remembered back to his expedition to the prefect’s bathroom back in fourth year to solve the mystery of golden egg from his first task in the Triwizard Tournament.

He had been most impressed with all the golden taps on the edge of the large marble bath. There were about a hundred of them that poured different types of bubbles and foams and scented clouds. He was beginning to see the appeal of this store.

A few minutes later, Dan, Emma, and Hermione had bought whatever it was that they wanted, and they were again on their way to the department store. Once they had reached the clothing department, Hermione and Emma headed off to the women’s section while Harry and Dan headed to the men’s.

“So, Harry, did I hear you right earlier? This is your first time in a shopping mall?” Dan asked. Despite the smile on his face, Harry could tell Dan didn’t enjoy having to ask that.

“Uh huh,” Harry replied. “I mean, I’ve been to the grocery store a couple times, and I’ve shopped in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, but never anywhere like here. All the clothes I have that aren’t school clothes were all once Dudley’s. If you’ve ever seen me in them, you’d probably know you could fit three of me in them,” Harry said with a bit of a sarcastic laugh.

Dan replied with a smile. “Well, once we get you outfitted, what do you say we get rid of all your old stuff?”

“Sounds fine by me,” Harry replied eagerly. “So, where do we start?” he asked Dan.

“Well, since we’re here,” Dan said, waving his hand at all the shirts in the shirts section, “this is as good a place as any to start. Then we can head over and get you some pants and maybe even some shorts too. They are very nice on these hot days. Oh, can’t forget socks and underwear. You can never have too many of those. So, how much do you think you’ll need, Harry?” Dan asked.

Harry looked at him, unsure of what he meant.

Dan, seeing Harry’s confusion, continued helpfully. “If you were at a regular school, I’d say you’d need at least ten sets of clothes, one for each day of the week, plus a few extras to rotate in or for emergencies. That way you don’t have to wear the same clothes every day. But since you have school clothes also, I don’t think you’ll need as much. So, what do you think?”

Harry thought for a moment. “I think five sets should suffice. A couple for weekends, and a few more in case we plan on wandering around outside. If you don’t go out wandering the school grounds, everyone usually just stays in their school clothes.”

Dan nodded, and then Harry started walking around looking at all the clothes. Picking out clothes was hard. There were so many from which to choose. He didn’t understand why girls seemed to like to do this. After about five minutes, he had found six shirts that he didn’t think looked too hideous.

Next, the two of them went over and picked up some jeans and a couple pairs of shorts. Harry then took everything into the fitting rooms and made sure they all fit. This, he thought, was the most amusing part of all.

He knew it was perfectly logical, but after being given Dudley’s clothes all his life, it just seemed strange to make sure clothes actually fit before getting them. True, he did have to get fitted for new robes every year, but that wasn’t so much “trying them on” as is was just standing there while Madam Malkin draped a new robe over him and then made adjustments. As for his actual school clothes, he always found them, properly sized, waiting for him in his dormitory the first day back; he didn’t know how that worked.

Six sets of clothes later, they walked over to the socks and underwear. “Do you get these at school too?” Dan asked. Harry nodded. “Oh well,” he said indifferently, “grab some anyway. Like I said, you can never have too many of them. I don’t know about you, but I always seem to be missing a sock.”

A thought suddenly popped into Harry’s mind. Didn’t Professor Dumbledore say something like that once, about not having too many?

Twenty minutes after separating from the women, Dan had all of Harry’s new clothes purchased and bagged up. The two of them then left the men’s department in search of the female Grangers. After spending about five minutes wandering around the women’s department looking exactly like two lost men searching for their women, Dan suddenly stopped in the middle of the aisle. “Oh, there they are,” he said.

Harry, being shorter than Dan, could not see as far through the many aisles of clothing. Dan turned around and handed Harry the bags containing his new clothes. “Here, Harry. Hold these for a second. I’m going to run over to them and tell them we’ll be upstairs finding you some new shoes. I’m sure you’d like something a little nicer than those old trainers of yours that’re about to fall apart.”

Harry looked down at his pitiful pair of trainers. Now that he actually thought about his feet, he realized that he had put his old trainers on with his nice school clothes. It looked quite silly in his opinion. He looked back up at Dan with an amused expression. “I didn’t even pay attention to what shoes I had put on. My good school shoes are still in my trunk.”

Dan laughed lightly, and then quickly looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Don’t worry about it too much, Harry. I said it before. You might be a great wizard, but you’re still a guy. Coordinating footwear isn’t exactly our specialty. Hang on then, I’ll be back in just a tick.”

Harry moved to the side so that he wasn’t blocking the center of the aisle. He watched as Dan started weaving his through the maze of clothing racks and floor displays. He seemed to be working his way to one of the back corners of the store. By now, all he could see was his head.

Emma and Hermione, who were about as tall as Harry, could not be seen, where ever they were. Where is he going? Harry wondered. OK, now he’s stopped. That’s where they must be. What’s over there? Ah, there’s a department sign over there on the wall. This stupid SALE sign on the rack in front of me is blocking it. That’s better. Intimates. Intimates? Oh...

Harry’s eyes suddenly went wide in realization. Feeling as though he just got caught out of bounds by Filch without his Invisibility Cloak, he quickly put the SALE sign back where it originally was, blocking his view of the offending department sign. Turning to very intently examine the rack of women’s jackets next to him, Harry eagerly waited for Dan to return.

A minute later, Dan returned with a highly amused expression on his face. “Women!” he complained with a laugh. “They weren’t even buying anything... ‘Just looking.’ When I walked up to them, you’d think I barged into the changing room or something.”

Harry feigned ignorance about what they might have been looking at. “Huh?”

Dan’s moment of amusement having since passed, Dan sighed slightly to clear the last of the chuckles. “Oh, never mind. So. Let’s go find you some decent shoes, shall we?”

The two of them walked over to the escalator in the center of the store and headed up to the second level. Reaching the shoe department, Harry sat down; Dan sized his foot with a steel instrument that Harry thought would look quite at home in the Headmaster’s office. After about ten minutes, Harry had found a pair of shoes and a pair of trainers he liked. The best part about them though was that they actually fit him.

Harry’s new wardrobe now complete, Dan and Harry started heading back to the department store entrance, and to the promenade. “I don’t know how much longer they’ll be, so I told the ladies we’d meet them in the food court. Are you hungry, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry said eagerly. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast, except that cup of tea back at your house.”

Dan sighed in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Harry. I assumed you would’ve eaten lunch before we left Privet Drive. Most parents feed their children before they send them on trips.”

Harry laughed once in sarcasm. “The Dursleys aren’t most parents. At least with me.” Harry and Dan walked silently towards the food court.

When they arrived, they slowly walked around the court looking at all the offerings. “See anything that strikes your fancy, Harry?” Dan asked.

Harry looked around. “Lots,” he replied simply. “Though, since we’re out, I’d like to try something a little different, something they don’t serve at Hogwarts. Any recommendations?”

Dan too looked around. “Hmm... something they don’t... How about Chinese? I don’t remember Hermione mentioning anything like that. Ever had Chinese food?”

“Does leftover white rice count?” Harry asked, smiling.

“No, Harry, it doesn’t. Chinese it is. Technically, it’s not authentic Chinese food per se, but rather the American version of it. It’s still very good though,” Dan explained as they walked over to the order station. Dan looked at Harry questioningly.

“Whatever you like,” Harry answered. “I don’t know what I like, so I’ll just try your favorite.” Dan nodded, and then bought two orders of General Tsao’s Chicken with pork fried rice and two Cokes. Finding an empty table, the two sat down and started in on their lunch.

Harry was quite unprepared for how spicy the chicken was. He put an entire piece into his mouth and immediately started chewing very quickly to get it down, drawing in great breaths of air to try to cool the burning sensation. Once he had finally swallowed it, he took a big drink.

Dan watched, slightly amused. “Small bites, Harry. Small bites. Get some rice in there too. Not so hot that way. It’s got quite a kick, it does.”

His eyes watering, Harry nodded.

About ten minutes later, Emma and Hermione returned from the department store, empty handed. “Didn’t find anything you liked?” Dan asked his wife and daughter. Harry stared intently at his food as he ate, not daring to look at either of them.

“I told you we were just looking,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone. Though he was still looking at his plate, Harry could almost hear Hermione rolling her eyes at her father.

“Are either of you hungry?” Dan asked. “Harry hadn’t had lunch yet, so we decided to broaden his horizons a little beyond the regular school food fare and Dursley leftovers.”

“We split a sandwich while the two of you were up ‘bonding’ in Harry’s room,” Emma teased, “but that wasn’t really enough to count for lunch. Oh Dan, why’d you get two orders? You know they give such big servings.”

Dan threw a quick smile at Harry then looked back at Emma. “Because I knew the two of you would be here in a few minutes. I knew neither of you would want a full order yourselves, so you’d just sit and stare expectantly at our food until one of us caved and offered you something.”

That’s why he brought two extra forks, Harry thought to himself, quite impressed. I’ll have to remember that one.

“How sweet of you,” Emma said sarcastically as she sat down next to Dan. She then smiled genuinely and kissed him. “Thanks, dear.”

“Okay Mum, children present at the table,” Hermione said in a tone of voice Harry had never heard her use as she sat down next to him. If he had to describe it, it was almost a comedic whine. As she sat down, Harry reached over and grabbed one of the extra forks. He captured a piece of chicken on it and handed it to Hermione as a gesture of “caving in.”

“Thanks,” she said to Harry.

Emma looked back at Hermione as though she were still an eleven year old girl. “Oh come now, dear. I’m quite sure you’ve seen worse at school.” Harry hid his smile behind his cup as he took a drink. He’d heard about some of the detentions Filch had given after catching students in the broom closets looking very breathless and with very disheveled hair.

“Yeah,” Hermione retorted, “but they weren’t my mum and dad.”

Harry almost choked on his drink. After forcing it down so he didn’t spray it over everyone, he started coughing and gasping for air, all the while a few stray laughs slipping out. Hermione immediately started patting and then rubbing his back to help settle everything.

Dan and Emma, across from him, looked at him with concern. Once he had caught his breath, he started laughing and their expressions slowly changed to amusement. Out of the corner of his tear-filled eyes, he could see the same reaction play across Hermione’s face. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s just something I never expected to hear Hermione say... Complaining about you kissing in front of her.”

Hermione took her hand off Harry’s back and picked up the fork she’d dropped so quickly. “Well, how would you like to be at Ron’s house and have to watch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley snog each other while you tried to eat? Or,” she added very dramatically, a wicked gleam in her eye, “if it were your—”

Harry quickly turned his head towards Hermione, pointing his plastic fork at her threateningly. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Miss Granger.” The hint of a smile betraying him, he made a slight jab towards her with his fork to back up his words. Hermione didn’t at all look threatened. He turned his attention back to his lunch. After staring at it for a few seconds, he let out a defeated sigh and looked back at her. “Thank you for that mental image... my aunt and uncle.”

Hermione smiled back at him in what could only be described as a very evil grin. “You’re very welcome,” she replied.

Ten minutes later, Dan and Emma had finished Dan’s food, and Harry and Hermione had finished Harry’s. Once they had dumped their trash in the bin, they headed off towards the other end of the promenade. When they reached the entrance in the middle, Dan and Harry took everyone’s purchases back to the car so they wouldn’t have to carry them around as they did their grocery shopping once they reached the other end.

When they returned, they found that Emma and Hermione had wandered off on their own. They decided to just work their way down towards the grocery store. Sooner or later, they’d see them in one of the shops. If not, whoever got to the end first would simply wait for the other two by the shopping baskets.

Along the way, Harry saw a small sporting goods store that he wanted to visit. Inside, Harry asked Dan, “I wonder if I should get Ron a football. One of our dorm mates, Dean Thomas, is also a Muggle-born. He likes Quidditch now, but he’s still a big football fan. Ron never seemed to be able to understand the game. Maybe if I get him one, it might help.”

“Possibly,” Dan said. “But just remember, you don’t have to buy everything today. If you’re not sure, we can always come back later.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “let’s go look at some of the other stores.” Three stores down, Harry saw a games and hobby store. “That might have some potential,” Harry said to Dan. Hermione’s birthday was still several months away, as was Christmas. Ron’s birthday was even further off. However, he rarely got an opportunity to go shopping separate from Ron or Hermione in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, so he definitely wanted to make the most of this chance in case he saw something.

As they walked in the store and looked around, Harry was absolutely certain it did have potential. The store was filled with (Muggle) games of every type imaginable. There were card games and board games and computer games. There was even an entire section dedicated to puzzle and logic games. Harry spent several minutes looking at those.

Making note of several items that certainly had gift potential, Harry tore his attention away from the Japanese Puzzle Boxes. As he turned around, his eye caught on two glass display cases in the middle of the store, next to the cashier. They were filled with exquisitely beautiful chess sets.

Harry walked over to them as quickly as he could without actually running. He was awestruck by all the different types of sets in the case. There was a second display case facing away from him that also had chess sets in them, but he couldn’t see them very well from his point of view.

Whatever was in those cases did not matter, however, as the sets in front of him were beautiful enough. There were six sets in the case; all of them looked handmade. They also looked expensive. The cheapest one Harry saw was £149. The pieces were either hand carved out of natural materials like wood or stone, or were cast out of solid metal. All were highly detailed, most painted by hand.

There were several sets with standard style pieces. One set, on the bottom most shelf, caught his eye first. It appeared to be made of cast metal that had been gold- and silver-plated. The price tag on that one confirmed his suspicion. Another set looked like it was made of intricately carved pieces of dark and light wood. A third set was made of what looked like black and white marble.

As Harry looked at them, Dan walked over and joined him. Also in the case were several specialty sets. One of the sets had different animals as the pieces. It looked like warm-blooded against cold-blooded. The king of the warm-blooded side was a lion. The bishops of the cold-blooded side were snakes. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Harry could not help but think.

The last two sets in that case caught Harry’s interest. Fortunately, they were on the topmost shelf so he could see them closely. The set on the left was a magical and mythological set. It appeared to be made out of pewter. The king and queen on both sides were wizards and witches. The other pieces were other characters and creatures of a magical or mythological nature. The rooks were cauldrons.

When Dan saw Harry looking at this set, he spoke very quietly. “See anything there familiar, Harry?” he asked with a knowing voice.

Harry pretended to study the pieces carefully. “Well, it looks like the knights are supposed to be griffins, though I think they look more like Buckbeak if you ask me. And those goblins and elves for pawns are much too tall,” he said with a smile.

The last set in the case had a military theme, though he wasn’t sure what they were. Fortunately, he just happened to have a Granger standing next to him who was more than willing to tell him all about them.

“These pieces represent two branches of the American military, Harry,” Dan explained. “This side, with the white uniforms, is the US Navy. The other side, with the dark blue uniforms, is the US Army. Army versus Navy. I’ve heard there is a long standing friendly rivalry between them, more so than between any other branches. These uniforms are called, I believe, dinner dress. I suppose they have them dressed like this because they get into fights in pubs on leave,” Dan finished with a smile.

“I thought maybe Ron might like a chess set for his birthday, but I don’t know if he’d like a regular set.” Harry lowered his voice to keep it from traveling. “Half the fun of wizard’s chess is watching the pieces fight each other.”

“Do you see anything in here you want to buy, or are you just looking for ideas?” Dan asked.

After throwing a quick glance back at some of the logic games, he thought for a moment. “No, I’ve got some ideas, but I don’t want to buy the first thing I see. Definitely some possibilities here though. I might see something a little more interesting when we go school shopping, so I’ll wait for now.”

“All right,” Dan agreed, “let’s go see if we can find the girls.” They returned to the promenade and resumed walking towards the grocery store. Seeing no other stores either of them wanted to visit, Dan and Harry reached the grocery store before Emma and Hermione.

They tried to look as comfortable as they possibly could simply standing next to a shopping basket. About ten minutes later, Emma and Hermione finally joined them. They were carrying several bags. Selecting a cart, Emma and Hermione put their purchases in the basket. There wasn’t much room left for groceries.

As the four of them started walking into the grocery store, Emma directed her voice in Harry’s direction. “Since you’re our guest Harry, is there anything in particular you’d like for dinner tonight?”

This was one of the questions Harry had feared. He didn’t know what he wanted. He was never given a choice about what to eat at the Dursleys. At Hogwarts, there was always so much wonderful food that he simply took whatever looked good. Even at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley always made lots of food, what with having to feed five Weasley children (six if you counted Ron’s stomach separate from himself) plus Arthur and herself, so he never really had to ever decide what was going to be made.

Seeing the looks on all three of their faces, Harry knew that “Whatever you want” would not be accepted. Fortunately, Harry was struck by an idea that saved him from having to find out.

“Are there any Granger family specialties I should try?” he asked. Harry was very pleased with himself.

Emma and Hermione looked at each other excitedly. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” she said smiling. “All right then, let’s get cracking.”

Turning down the first aisle, Dan suddenly looked as though he realized something. “Hermione, let’s go take these back to the car so there’ll be room in the basket.” He grabbed all of the bags and the two of them headed back into the promenade, towards the entrance.

As Emma and Harry walked through the aisles, he was surprised at how little they talked. Other than Emma’s frequent reminder to “just grab it if you see something you like,” they really didn’t say much. Considering how much Dan had talked with Harry during the day, he expected she would do the same. However, Harry also noticed that she also had a highly organized shopping list in her hand, one she had pulled out of her purse as soon as Dan and Hermione left.

It was clear to Harry that she was in shopping mode. Actually, it looked more like hunting and gathering mode, since almost everything that went into the basket was already on the list. There was the occasional “Oh, we’ll need that too,” as she made modifications to her list as she considered what to make for dinner. As he thought about it, it reminded him a great deal of Hermione gathering her supplies to prepare a potion.

About fifteen minutes later, Dan and Hermione had returned, and the shopping basket was nearly full. Ten minutes later, everything was paid for and they were on their way back to the car park. Once the groceries were loaded, they were off on their way back home.

Harry was a little shocked to realize that he didn’t at all find it odd to think those words: back home. Ever since his first day at Hogwarts, he always considered the castle his home. Privet Drive was little more than his home away from home. And yet, looking at the clock on the car radio, Harry had left Privet Drive less than four hours earlier, and already Harry had thought of Hermione’s house as, well, not home exactly, but it was more than just another home away from home. It certainly now ranked higher on Harry’s list of places he’d like to stay that Privet Drive ever did, though he didn’t suppose that was saying much.

A short while later, they arrived back home. Harry made sure to look at the street name sign when they turned onto the road. For some reason, he just wanted to see it. Broomhill Road. After they parked, everyone helped unload the shopping. Hermione was the first one out and started handing Harry’s bags to him.

After loading him up with his new clothes, she grabbed her bags that had been set against one of the side walls. Fully loaded down, they lumbered up to the front door. Harry noticed that her bags looked heavier than he remembered seeing her carry earlier. He waited as Hermione tried to hold onto everything and pull a key out of her pocket at the same time.

“Don’t you just wish you could...?” Harry started to ask.

“Believe me, yes,” Hermione said with a flustered sigh. “But I won’t be of age until September. So... until then, keys it is.” Finally setting down one of her bags, she was able to get the front door open.

As Dan and Emma put away the groceries, Harry and Hermione took their bags upstairs. Dragging everything into his room, he set all of the bags into the corner next to his trunk. He would empty out his trunk and hang up his new clothes in the closet later. Turning around, he was surprised to see an envelope sitting on his bed.

As he walked over to the bed, he heard Hermione come back into his room. It sounded as though she was talking to herself. He only heard part of whatever she was saying. “...doesn’t make any sense. I don’t even have an...” Her voice trailed off just as he picked up the envelope. He looked at the address on the envelope.

Harry James Potter
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

Assuming she had been talking about something she bought, he turned and looked at her amusedly. “Owl forwarding?” he asked, showing her the envelope.

“I suppose. Hardly anyone knows you’re here. Who’s it from?” Hermione asked, looking a little more interested than seemed normal for an ordinary letter.

Harry turned over the envelope. The hand holding the envelope started shaking. He appeared to be in a state of shock. Hermione immediately rushed over and took the envelope from him, putting her other hand on his right shoulder. Harry was in no state to notice there was something already in the hand she placed on his shoulder.

She looked at the seal on the back side of the envelope. There, embossed in the wax, was the emblem of Gringotts Bank. Hermione looked from the letter addressed to Harry in her right hand to an identical letter addressed to her in her left hand. Her eyes widened suddenly in realization.

She let out an almost silent gasp, and then spoke to no one in particular in barely more than a whisper.

“Sirius’s will.”

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though after HBP, I'm not sure I would want to. No, I take that back, I would want to own it, just not be the one to write it. No, I take that back too. I would want to. Then maybe HBP wouldn't have happened like that. I'll show you delusional. Oh, I'm wandering, aren't I? Where was I? Oh yes.... I'm just playing here.

A/N: No, I didn't forget about the "cliffhanger" from the last chapter, though our new housemates seem to have. Yeah, it looks as though they may have gotten slightly distracted there. Oh, how horrible for them! :-) Thanks, as always, to my beta, MapleMountain. I told you so. You keep making snarky comments and they may end up in the story. Never stop, please.

Chapter 8. Erm... Did We Forget Something?

Harry and Hermione stood silently for a few moments. The muffled voices of Dan and Emma putting groceries away downstairs seemed to be the only signs of life in the room. Harry still had his arm stretched out in front of him from when he looked at the letter, his eyes still locked on his now empty hand.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. He did not respond.

The silence was broken by the sound of a soft thump. Crookshanks had evidently followed his mistress into Harry's room and jumped up on the bed to see what had captured her attention. As Hermione slowly reached out to try to lower Harry's still-raised hand, Crookshanks suddenly mewed softly.

Harry seemed to awaken from his frozen state and turned to look at the ginger-colored cat that was now sitting on his bed, staring up at him. Crookshanks had the appearance of just having woken up from a long and restful catnap.

"Hello Crookshanks," Harry greeted the half-Kneazle. He reached down and absently started to scratch his head. Crookshanks immediately stood up on all fours and started pushing his head into Harry's hand as if demanding he not stop. As Crookshanks enjoyed a good head scratching, Harry's body began to relax from the highly tensed state he went into upon seeing the Gringotts seal.

After a few moments, Harry slowly sat down on the bed. Crookshanks made sure to not let Harry's hand get too far away from his head. Hermione, unsure of what to do, simply sat down beside Harry on his left. After staring blankly at the chair across from him, Harry started looking around the room. On the far corner of the bed, nearest the door, he saw the two unfinished thank you letters he had set there only hours earlier.

After retrieving them, he held them in his lap and stared at them for a moment. He then cleared his throat and spoke in an uneven voice.

"I need to send out my thank-you letters," he said. It sounded as though he was saying it to himself more than to anyone else.

"Harry," Hermione again whispered, trying to get his attention.

"I wrote them after I wrote yours... but... I didn't... get a chance t... to send them," he managed to get out, his voice beginning to break up. He turned and set down his unfinished letters behind him.

Hermione set down the two Gringotts letters and reached over, putting her right hand over top of Harry's left. "Harry, stop," she whispered.

Harry stopped talking and closed his eyes. After taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and stared at Hermione's hand on top of his. Crookshanks mewed again, obviously satisfied with his head scratching. He took a couple steps forward and then sat down so Harry could now scratch his back.

"We'll send your letters out this evening," Hermione promised him and then gave the back of his hand a comforting squeeze. Even though she was sitting beside him and he was still looking down, she could still see his face lighten a little.

"Thanks," he told her in a very quiet voice.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"No," he answered honestly, his voice trailing as though he hadn't finished his sentence. Much to Crookshanks disappointment, Harry stopped stroking his back and moved his right hand towards his left. He took hold of Hermione's wrist and lifted her hand off his. If he had looked at her at that very moment, he would have seen a look of disappointment to match Crookshanks; fortunately for him, he did not.

Before she had a chance to say anything though, Harry turned his left hand over, palm up, and then replaced her hand in his. "But I will be," he said, finishing the sentence he had started only two seconds earlier. He then gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then resumed stroking Crookshanks' back. If Harry had looked at either of them at that moment, he would have seen identical looks of contentment.

A couple minutes later, Harry broke the peaceful calm that had settled upon the room. "I'm sorry," he said.

Hermione, her eyes having gone out of focus after staring intently at her right hand, suddenly looked up at Harry. He was still staring at his left hand; he seemed unwilling yet to look directly at her.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm sorry for that... a couple minutes ago. Today's been the best day I can remember in a long time. I almost forgot that Sirius was gone. Then I saw the letter from Gringotts. It just sort of knocked the wind out of me," he explained. "I knew what it was... without even opening it, I just knew what it was."

"It's OK, Harry. You don't have to apologize. It's OK," Hermione reassured him.

Harry closed his eyes again and bowed his head. "I wish I could believe it was, Hermione. I really do," he whispered.

Harry felt Hermione remove her hand from his. Again, he felt cold and empty with its removal. He was surprised at how much stronger it felt this time than the last time. He stopped scratching Crookshanks' back; his eyes still closed and head bowed forward, he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Harry, look at me," she whispered. He replaced his glasses and then turned to look at her. When he opened his eyes, he saw Hermione looking directly back at him. On her face was not a fake smile put on just for display. Instead, what he saw was a smile that seemed full of sadness. She was sad for some reason, and yet she was smiling. When he looked into her eyes, instead of finding pity and sympathy, he found acceptance and understanding.

As he studied her eyes, he also saw them as though he had just seen them for the first time. Ever since the day he first met her all those years ago, he knew she had brown eyes. But now, he noticed that her eyes were not as he assumed they always were. He simply expected that they were brown, plain and simple.

Now however, he saw that mixed in those pools of liquid milk chocolate (yes, it was lame, but as hard as he tried, he could not think of any better way to describe them) there were tiny flecks of caramel, imperfections in the color of her irises. He had never noticed that before. And yet, that uniqueness seemed to make the sight before him even more real than he might have ever expected. He simply assumed that brown eyes would be all-brown. Then again, he never had cause to study someone's eyes, so what did he know?

As he stared into her eyes, he could just barely see her smile widen in his peripheral vision. He didn't think it was possible, but he could actually see that smile translate into her eyes. As he did when he saw her smile from the sofa a couple hours earlier, he again felt comforted by that smile. He had been so afraid to not see that smile.

When he finally did see it, he felt a sensation starting in the pit of his stomach sweep through him. He was totally unprepared for the intensity of it. If he had to describe it, and for some reason he felt the need to, it reminded him most of his feelings of relief when Neville told him that Hermione still alive after being hit by Dolohov's curse in the Department of Mysteries.

Finally forcing himself to stop staring into her eyes, he noticed that she was talking. The odd thing was that he couldn't hear any of her words. He watched her talk for several seconds, not taking in a single word she said. He watched with some amusement as she continued to speak. He saw how her lips formed words that she obviously thought he was hearing; lips, he could not help but notice, that were so very... not moving?

She had stopped talking. Hermione was now looking at him with a decidedly amused expression on her face. She said something again. Harry couldn't read lips, but he was pretty sure what he saw looked familiar. Eh-Ri? he thought to himself. Why does that look familiar? he wondered. Harry! he suddenly realized. She was saying his name, trying to get his attention.

Harry snapped back to attention with a visible start. Hermione seemed slightly surprised by the suddenness of it.

"Harry? Harry! Are you all right?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Hermione," Harry exclaimed with a surprised sounding voice. "I'm so sorry. Yes... Yes, I'm fine. My mind was just a million miles away there for a second. I didn't hear anything you said. I'm so sorry."

She gave him a searching look he knew meant Are you sure you're OK? He nodded his head in assurance.

"I was saying that it's OK, Harry. You don't need to apologize for your feelings," she told him. "Look, I won't sit here and tell you that I know or understand what you're feeling right now, because I don't. I've never lost anyone who was important to me."

Hermione paused for a moment, and then again put her hand on the back of his.

"But," she continued, "I will tell you that I have read a little about it." A small smile threatened to break through Harry's guarded expression. "Do you know what I read?" she asked. Harry shook his head no.

"It said that even though there are some common stages that everyone seems to go through, in the end, everyone has to deal with it in their own way," Hermione explained to him in a very soothing voice. "I can't give you some Kwik-Spell instruction manual on how to handle this. What I can do," she promised, "is to simply be there for you, to help you, however you want me to. We all will... me, Mum, and Dad."

Crookshanks chose that very moment to meow again softly. "And Crookshanks," Hermione added, trying not to laugh at the timing. Evidently however, Crookshanks' meow was to indicate that he was bored. Since it was obvious (to Crookshanks) that his favorite one, who brought food and cleaned his litter box, and this nice one, who scratched his head and didn't threaten to curse him (unlike the red-haired one), were now paying more attention to each other than to him, he decided he would go find something else to do.

Crookshanks jumped down off the bed and headed to the door, his bottle-brush tail twitching as he looked around for another source of entertainment or attention. As Harry and Hermione watched him go out and head downstairs, Hermione jokingly added, "Or maybe not." She then returned her attention to Harry.

"If you want to sit around one day and just share memories, we will. If you want to go talk to someone who specializes in helping people with the loss of family members, we will. Honestly," she promised him after seeing the surprised look on his face. "If you want us to let you sit up here and brood for the rest of the summer, we will." Harry was entirely sure that last one was a bluff. The interesting thing however was hearing her say it like that, it was now absolutely the last thing he wanted to do.

"If," Hermione said, emphasizing the word as though this was what she thought was best, "you want to just take things one day at a time and try to have a nice, pleasant, normal holiday, we will." As Harry looked at her, he noticed that her expression had a degree of finality to it, as though this option had already been selected for him. Harry knew he should've been mad that she seemed to have already decided what was best, but as hard as he tried, he just couldn't.

"Life goes on, Harry," she continued. "What's in the past is in the past. All we can do is learn from it, and use that knowledge to decide how we want to handle today and tomorrow."

Harry stood up and walked over to the window. Looking out, he ran his hand through his always unruly hair. After letting out a deep sigh, he turned around and looked at Hermione, remembering something she said. "When did you read it?" he asked.

Hermione immediately blushed slightly and quickly looked down at the floor with an extremely guilty expression on her face. "Erm... the day before yesterday," she finally admitted after some hesitation. It was now Harry's turn to roll his eyes at her.

Harry thought back for a few seconds. "Saturday? The day I sent you the thank-you letter?" Hermione nodded, still blushing and looking down. He thought again for a second. "Before or after you received it?" he asked as he suppressed a smile, even though he was already sure of her answer.

Hermione looked back up at Harry and did her best to look as guilty as possible as she answered. "After."

"Should've known," Harry said in mock-defeated voice; he was actually quite impressed. "What would I have ever done without you?" he asked. It was intended as a rhetorical question, but Hermione, seeing an opportunity, decided to answer it anyway.

"You'd've probably gotten yourself killed by now," she said in a very guarded voice. Her eyes then narrowed as though she were going to lecture him. "Or worse, expelled," she deadpanned.

For a few deathly silent seconds, Harry and Hermione looked at each other as though they were in a staring contest. Then Harry blinked. The two of them burst out laughing as they remembered when she said that nearly five years earlier. Wiping the tears of laughter out of his eyes, Harry suddenly remembered his earlier conversation with Dan.

He walked over to the chair he sat in earlier and sat down again, facing Hermione. "You are wrong about one thing though, Hermione. I do need to apologize for something." He paused for a moment and shuffled his feet nervously. "I'm sorry for my behavior last year. I know it's a little delayed, but I just wanted to say it anyway. I'm sorry. I never really meant for any of it to hit you, but you always seemed to be there right next to me, so you know..." his voice trailed off. "What do they call that, 'friendly fire?'" he asked, trying to lighten the situation a little. After saying it, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to make jokes like that, but it seemed like it was at the time.

Hermione looked as though she was about to say something; Harry put up his hand to stop her. "I also wanted to say 'Thank you.' There were times last year when I felt so helpless. It seemed like everyone was against me. But you were always there. Even in fourth year when Ron wasn't talking to me, you were always there." Harry had already said all this a few hours earlier, so he thought it should be easier the second time. He found however, that it was actually harder.

"Now that I think about it, I really don't know what I would've done if you weren't there. I probably would never've come out of Buckbeak's room after Ron's dad was attacked. I mean, I know it was Ginny who told me I wasn't being possessed by Voldemort," Harry conceded, "but I wouldn't have even given her the chance to talk to me in the first place if you hadn't dragged me out." He paused for a second. "I know I would've never thought to start the D.A. And I as sure as hell wouldn't've agreed to do that interview with Skeeter if you weren't there, regardless of whether it was your idea or not."

Harry silently wondered for a moment if he was intentionally tailoring what he was saying based on what Dan had said earlier. As he thought about it, he knew that Hermione had helped him out in so many ways the previous year. These, however were some of the most important to him, even to this day. He supposed it was simply a coincidence that the things that were so important to him also just happened to be the ones that Hermione got so excited about.

Without really realizing it, Harry's train of thought suddenly jumped onto a different set of tracks. "I think that's why I got so frustrated last year when the two of you were fighting all the time... you and Ron. My two best friends constantly having at each other. I think, deep down, I was afraid I might lose you if one of the rows got too big. I was scared that you might stop talking to me because Ron would still be around me. Or Ron and you, vice versa," he quickly added.

"You know, I think he fancies you," Harry suddenly blurted out, the thought seemingly coming out of nowhere. Where the bloody hell did that come from? Harry asked himself, as irritated that he actually brought it up as he was surprised.

Hermione, who seemed to have been hanging on Harry's every word, suddenly flinched at Harry's sidetrack. He expected her to be as unprepared for his unexpected outburst as he was. Hermione's slight sigh, however, only added to his own surprise.

"Yes, I've suspected as much," she admitted. "Though I think that'll be the least of his worries soon. I think there's some other witch out there with her eye on him," Hermione added with a look that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.

Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a chuckle. "Yeah, and somehow I don't think Luna's the type to take 'no' for an answer." Hermione immediately looked as though someone spoiled her big secret.

"You knew?" she asked, sounding both disappointed and impressed at the same time.

"I suspected," Harry corrected her. "But hearing you say it pretty much confirmed it for me."

"But I could've meant Lavender or Parvati or Susan Bones. How did you know I meant Luna?" she asked.

"Well, I do have eyes, you know," Harry said pretending to act hurt. He leaned forward in the chair. "I saw how she acted around him. I mean, she is a little different than everyone else, but the way she acted around Ron was different than even that. Don't tell anyone I said this, but she seemed absolutely fascinated by him."

Hermione looked at Harry as though she were appraising him. "How is it, Harry, that you can be so perceptive like that sometimes, and yet other times...?" she said, leaving the question unfinished.

"You mean other times, like with Cho?" he asked, seeing right through her. The guilty look on her face answered for her. She then raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to answer.

Harry again leaned back in the chair and then stared at the ceiling for a couple seconds, thinking. He brought his hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. "I don't know... maybe because it didn't involve me? When I saw Luna, I didn't have my own feelings for her getting in the way, playing tricks on me. I wasn't worrying about whether she did or didn't fancy me... All I saw was a friend of mine who seemed very interested in another friend of mine."

"So... what do you think about them... the two of them... together?" Hermione asked in a very innocent sounding voice.

"Call me crazy, but I think they'd go well together. I don't know why... I just do. Assuming Ron ever took a moment to notice her, that is. I'll admit, when I first met her, I thought she was really strange. But now that I've gotten to know her a little better, I really like her." Hermione seemed to again be paying very close attention to every word he said.

"What I might've then thought strange now seems unique and special. You see, this is exactly what I was talking about. If last year you had asked me the same question, but about Cho and anyone possibly getting together? I would've been tripping over myself to find a way to not like the idea. But now, I mean, I like Luna a lot, but I don't fancy her, so everything just seems easier, and makes sense. Luna certainly seems to like him, so I'm sure if he just gave her a chance... you never know...."

Hermione certainly seemed pleased about something Harry said. He noticed this and decided to ask her opinion. The fact that Ron seemed to fancy Hermione did not appear to come as any surprise to her. Since she asked him what he thought about Ron and Luna getting together, he was only naturally curious about how she felt about it.

"So Hermione, since you brought it up, what do you think about the two of them getting together?" Harry asked her. For the first time in the conversation, Hermione seemed surprised by what he said. A strange look came over her face for a second, one that Harry could not read. He was afraid maybe he had crossed some invisible line of things boys weren't supposed to ask girls. Whatever she may have been feeling, Harry could not detect any signs of anger. In fact, if anything, she seemed happier than she had been since Harry first mentioned Ron.

"I think they could go well together. You're right though, of course. Ron would first have to take half a second to actually look at her, and see the real Luna... the way you do," she added, almost as an afterthought. A slightly pink hue appeared on her face for a second or two. Harry had no idea what that was all about. She didn't appear to be out of breath and he couldn't think of any reason why she might be embarrassed.

"If he ever got beyond that," Hermione continued, "I think there's some real potential there. And that, I think, is another thing that Luna has going for her. How do I say this?" Hermione mused to herself, obviously trying to find a delicate way of saying whatever she was about to. "Forgive me Harry, I know he's your best mate, and he's my friend too. But sometimes, Ron can be... high maintenance." Harry smirked. Hermione visibly relaxed seeing Harry's reaction.

"Sometimes, he can just be so..." Hermione trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"Yeah, I know," Harry agreed. "Pigheaded?" he volunteered.

"Your word, not mine," Hermione said quickly in defense. "I know that some people out there just could not stand to be in a relationship like that where the two sides were constantly butting heads like that." Harry was quite sure he knew who she meant by 'some people.'

"And then we met Luna last year. I mean, she's obviously been here all along; we just never really got a chance to meet her. But she seemed to already know you and Ron. Sure, who doesn't know who Harry Potter is—no offense," Hermione quickly added. Harry shook his head to indicate that none was taken. "But for her to already know Ron? I don't know, but it makes me wonder if she's had her eye on him for a while," Hermione reasoned.

"And if that's the case, then surely she must've seen how well we get along," Hermione said, pointing to herself, "and she must've seen what happened in the beginning of the tournament," waving her hand towards Harry.

"If she sees all that and still is interested in him, then I think she truly is something special. She's seen through the outer layers and already knows what lies beneath... what you and I both know is there." Hermione paused for a minute, shifting her position slightly. "But, like you said... who knows? If he got to know her better, maybe he'd start arguing with her too. I'm sorry, but if it were me, I just couldn't be in a relationship like that where we were always fighting. But if he doesn't... then I think he has a real shot at something good."

Something about what Hermione said caused a strong surge of hope to rush though Harry. He had no idea why, but he decided to take a guess at it. Almost without even realizing it, he said under his breath, "Yeah, it'd be nice if some of us did."

Hermione quickly pounced on what he said. "What do you mean by that?" she asked. Harry's sudden panic attack that he might have said the wrong thing diminished when he realized her voice seemed inquisitive, not accusatory.

"Well, look at us," Harry tried to explain. Hermione's eyes went wide as though she were afraid of what he said. "You, me, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville... I mean, look at what we've been through together." She seemed to relax a little. "You'd think that people who've been through what we have should deserve to find something nice like that. But look at us. I'm not seeing anyone. You're not seeing anyone. You're not, are you?" Harry found himself asking unexpectedly. He'd never asked her about her love life before, but he assumed he'd hear about it if there was some development on that front.

Hermione shook her head. Unexplainably worried that he might not have noticed something like that, he continued, feeling a little better. "Ron's not. Luna's not, as far as I know. Neville's not. The only one who is, is Ginny, but she seems to be rotating though them right now. You've got six lost souls here, and if any of us could find something nice for themselves, so much the better. Especially now that this war might be picking up."

Hermione's expression seemed far away. After a few seconds, she focused her attention back on Harry. When she finally spoke, her voice had something of a dreamy quality to it. Quite frankly, if Harry hadn't been watching her speak, he might have thought it was Luna talking, rather that Hermione.

"Yes, it would be..." She cleared her throat then hastily added, "Nice, if some of us could find something." If Harry didn't know better, he would've thought she looked a little embarrassed. "'Six lost souls'?" she asked with a curious look on her face.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I heard my aunt say something like it once. I think she read it in one of her 'scarlet woman' books," Harry said with smirk, remembering what Ron had said a few years earlier,

And on that note, the wonderful little discussion Harry had been having with his best friend suddenly ended, simply because neither knew what to say next. Hermione cleared her throat again, rubbing her hands on her knees as if to just do anything to keep her hands busy. "You said you had letters that needed delivering?" she asked.

Harry nodded, pointing at his trunk where the rest of his completed thank-you letters were. "I'm going to go downstairs and help start dinner," Hermione said. She walked over to the closet, sliding opening one of the two doors. "Why don't you start getting yourself settled in? There should be enough hangers here for everything." Reaching behind the other still-closed door, she pulled out an empty laundry basket, showed it to Harry, and then put it back behind the door. "Just put anything you wanted washed in there. We usually do laundry on the weekend. Did you buy enough to last until then?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

Hermione walked by the dresser where Hedwig's cage sat, glancing at the owl which was now napping. Not wanting to wake her, she waited until she was on the other side of the room next to a desk before speaking again. "How are you on owl treats?" she asked.

Harry had to think for a moment. While he had kept her adequately fed and watered, Harry really had otherwise neglected Hedwig since returning to Privet Drive. "I... still have half a bag I had left over from school," Harry admitted, feeling quite guilty. Fortunately, Hermione didn't seem to notice; she didn't know how many treats he should've had left.

"OK, well, let me know if you need any more," Hermione told Harry. "I still have most of the bag I bought for Hedwig in case she showed up here." She looked at the desk next to her, and then looked expectantly at Harry for a couple seconds. "While you're unpacking, you can put your school books here. Don't give me that look, Harry," Hermione warned.

"You didn't really expect that you could live with me and be allowed to not do your homework, did you?"

Harry noticed she had a bit of a sparkle in her eyes as she said that. He couldn't quite place it, but it was there nonetheless. Hermione wouldn't joke about homework, would she? He shook his head.

"Good," Hermione said, looking quite pleased. "But don't worry. I'll be generous. I'll wait until tomorrow before I start reminding you about your homework." The sparkle returned, Harry noticed; if anything, it looked mischievous. Hermione then looked around the room, checking to see if she overlooked anything. Her eyes landed on the night stand next to the bed.

"Oh, and before I forget," Hermione added. "I put a couple of hooks on the underside of the table next to your bed. It's perfect for keeping your wand close at hand, but still out of sight. With all the preparations the headmaster made to make it possible for you to stay here, I don't expect any trouble. That said, however... you know... 'Constant Vigilance,'" Hermione explained.

"Yeah, I know." Harry agreed. He decided it didn't sound quite as annoying when Hermione said it in her normal voice as compared to Moody's repeated shouts. Hermione smiled and then turned to the door. When she was nearly at the door, Harry suddenly turned to look back at her and decided something very quickly.

"Hermione?" he called.

She stopped and turned towards him, with the same happy look on her face as before. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry walked over to her very quickly. He put his hands on her shoulders. Trying to summon all the gratitude he felt, he looked deep into her eyes. "Seriously," he assured her. "Thank you. For everything," he said, and then Harry Potter did something he had never done before, and scooped her up into a great big hug. Hermione had always been the one to initiate the hugs.

Harry could feel her tense for a fraction of a second as though she had been completely taken by surprise. By time he registered that feeling though, he felt her relax and return the hug. Harry hadn't intended to, but with his face buried in Hermione's hair, he could not help but smell it as he took in a breath. As he inhaled, the fragrance of whatever shampoo she used slowly began to seep into his brain. He didn't know exactly what it was, but it was floral, and very relaxing... and very familiar. It reminded him of the sample bottle of bubble bath he found back in the bath store. That, of course, reminded him of the bath in the prefect's bathroom back at Hogwarts.

Harry's face suddenly went bright red and he was immediately grateful that his face was hidden by Hermione's hair, where she could not see it. He hadn't actually pictured anything in his mind, but simply associating Hermione and the prefect's bath together in the same thought was enough to make him so embarrassed that he felt as though his face were on fire. When he was reasonably sure the blazing inferno on his face had died down somewhat, he released her from the hug. Not wanting her to see how many different shades of red his face could turn, he turned around as quickly and as casually as he could. He prayed his body wouldn't further betray him with any other physical reactions.

Looking away, he could not help but see her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. He watched her as she watched him, again as though she were trying to decide something. She then noticed that he was watching her through the mirror. She turned her head to look directly at him, through the mirror.

"Dinner should be ready in an hour, hour and a half. Once you're unpacked, you can come down and help if you want. You don't have to of course... you're our guest. But you can... if you want, that is." She looked very hopeful as her voice trailed off. Harry smiled; Hermione smiled back then turned and headed down the stairs.

Once she had left, Harry turned and made his way to his trunk and shopping bags. As he opened his trunk, he could hear Hermione downstairs talking to Emma. "So Mum, what're we making?" Even thought it had carried all the way from the kitchen downstairs, he could still hear how cheerful her voice sounded. After that, they must have lowered their voices since he could no longer clearly hear what they were saying.

A half hour later, Harry had all of his clothes unpacked. His robes and his other sets of school clothes, as well as all the clothes the Grangers had purchased for him were all now neatly hanging up in his closet. All of his dirty laundry was tucked away in the basket, waiting to be washed. He then went through the remaining items in his trunk.

As he rummaged around in the trunk, he came across a few old Every Flavor Beans and an empty Chocolate Frog box. "Ron..." Harry muttered to himself as he threw away the empty box. Finding a few more beans, he decided now was as good a time as any to completely empty it and see what other surprises, good or bad, he found.

Pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, he decided they would be secure in the dresser for the time being. To be safe though, he wrapped the map in the cloak and put it in the bottom-most dresser drawer where no one would have noticed it unless they actually touched it.

He also retrieved the completed thank-you letters from his trunk, setting them next to Hedwig's cage. Seeing as she was still napping, he retrieved an owl treat from his bag and quietly wedged it between two of the bars of the cage, a nice little present for her when she woke up.

Finally, the last things remaining in his trunk (at least of the things that were supposed to be in there) were his supplies of parchment, ink, and quills, as well as his school books. He looked over at the desk, and then at where Hermione stood a few minutes earlier.

Hermione and her parents had taken Harry into their home. They offered him a room of his own, a bed of his own, a closet, desk, and dresser of his own. They did this freely and willingly, without any thoughts of the loss of the extra space (at least as far as he could tell). If taking things one day at a time, helping cook dinner, and doing his homework were all that were expected of him in return, then he decided he was more than willing to pay that price.

And so, probably for the first time in his life, Harry happily pulled his books and school supplies out of his trunk and set them on the desk, ready to be used. Once everything was set out, he looked at his books and smirked. Well, he thought to himself, I've got until tomorrow at least before I have to start. Returning to the trunk, he carried it over to the trash bin and lifted it up, shaking out the remaining trash (a few more beans and empty candy wrappers).

Harry looked around the room, just as Hermione had done. Everything seemed to be in its place. With a strange feeling of accomplishment, Harry then went downstairs. Walking into the kitchen, he joined Hermione, Dan, and Emma in helping prepare dinner. All throughout the preparation, Hermione and Emma kept Harry and Dan busy chopping vegetables and preparing the side dishes while they worked on the main entree. They did their best to not let him see what they were making. The smells wafting over promised that it would be worth the wait.

A short while later, dinner was ready and the four of them started bringing serving dishes full of food into the dining room and setting them on the table that Dan and Harry had set. When everything was nearly in place, Dan discreetly nudged Harry's arm and raised one eyebrow, as if to say "Watch this."

As Emma moved to go sit down, Dan stopped her and then pulled out the chair for her. Once she was seated, he helped push her chair in. He then went and sat down opposite her. Hermione, who had been the last one in the dining room with a bowl of mashed potatoes (roasted garlic mashed potatoes, Harry would soon discover), caught Harry's eye after observing that scene and rolled her eyes and shook her head with an amused smile.

Harry, not wanting to be outdone by Dan, innocently kept himself busy as he delayed returning to his seat. When Hermione set down the potatoes, she made for her seat. Harry then quickly stepped over and stopped her, pulling out the chair for her as Dan had done, then helped push it in once Hermione was seated. He then finally took his seat across from her. So that's why he insisted I leave the chairs pushed in, Harry realized as he remembered what Dan had asked him to do while they were setting the table.

Emma, who had been watching intently, let out a small laugh. She looked from Dan in front of her to Harry on her left. "Such gentleman," she said in a sarcastic voice, even though it was obvious she was highly amused. "So, which one of you put the other up to that, hmmm?"

Dan and Harry looked at each other with puzzled, very innocent-looking expressions on their faces. Though neither had intended to, they both answered identically and simultaneously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

With their duplicate responses, all four of them immediately started laughing. After catching their breaths, they all looked eagerly at the food waiting for them. At Dan's proclamation to "Tuck in!" they all started loading up their plates.

Whatever Hermione and Emma had made, it was absolutely wonderful, Harry decided. It was some sort of stuffed chicken breast dish. He knew there was cheese in it along with many herbs and spices. There was also some kind of tomato-based sauce that had been placed on top of the crispy breadcrumb coating.

At one point in the dinner, Harry had asked Hermione and Emma what exactly the dish was. "A Granger family specialty, as requested," was all Emma said.

"We could tell you," Hermione added, as Harry turned to look at her, "but then I'd have to Obliviate you." He knew she was joking, but he decided this dinner was too nice to risk forgetting about, so he agreed anyway.

After dinner, Emma was the first to stand up. She looked Harry in the eye and told him, "Everyone takes their own dishes to the dishwasher." Seeing him nod, she added, "But if you really want to help later, I'll let you press the start button once it's full. How does that sound?" Smiling, Harry nodded.

As Harry walked over to the dishwasher with his plate, silverware, and glass, he looked out the window over the sink. It was now early evening, but there were already storm clouds on the horizon. It promised to be another cool refreshing evening, the last one for the foreseeable future, however.

Harry remembered hearing a brief weather forecast on the radio during the car ride home from shopping. They said that... well, he couldn't remember what exactly they said. I'm a wizard, not a weatherman, he said to himself. All he knew was that whatever had been causing the storms was beginning to break up, which would mean the evenings would become hot and muggy as they had been before. Fortunately for Harry, his new home was air conditioned, so no matter how miserable it was outside, he was sure to find a comfortable, inviting environment inside.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this chapter. R/L stuck its nose in there for a several days so I lost some prime writing time. But to make up for it, I put down a few more words this time. I hope you like it. And in case you're wondering, yes, my cat does make another guest appearance in this chapter. I figured Crookshanks is smarter than she is, so if she does it, he could too.

Thanks, as always, to my beta, MapleMountain. I honestly picked the motel at random, but it was he who looked it up and found that it was actually only about a half mile away (you'll understand when you read the chapter). Must've been fate, I guess.

Credit for whole magical-Gringotts-letters bit goes to my beta also. I wrote Chapter 8 in several sittings. Each time, I managed to forget that I had already taken the letters out of his trunk. So by the time I finished it and did my first complete edit, I realized that Harry had taken the letters out of the trunk three times. My beta jokingly suggested they were charmed so they would return to the trunk each time *I* forgot about them. Thanks again!

Chapter 9. The End of the First Day.

After dinner, Harry, Hermione, and her parents sat around the dining room table. He listened raptly as they told the tale of the last several weeks, from the Grangers' point of view, and how Harry came to stay with them.

"After she sent you her first letter," Emma began explaining, "Hermione waited anxiously for days in hopes of a receiving a reply from you. With none by the end of the third day, she was so worried that she sent letters to your professors." Harry looked down at the tablecloth. He could tell from the tone of Emma's voice that she wasn't telling him this to make him feel guilty. Even though she was simply telling a story, he just couldn't help but feel guilty for not replying.

Hermione, upon seeing Harry's reaction, then picked up the story. She hoped that if Harry heard her tell it, he might take it a little better. "I sent letters to the Headmaster and to Professor McGonagall."

Seeing that he was starting to think about something for a second, Hermione explained before Harry could ask. "Since I don't have an owl, before I left, Professor McGonagall told me how to call for Fawkes if I ever wanted to send her or the Headmaster any letters. It seems she, erm, expected that I might have a few N.E.W.T. questions during the summer." At this, the three other people in the room smiled knowingly.

"She wanted to make sure I had a way to get in contact with them without using magic. It appears that despite what we did for the Ministry that night, Fudge was determined to make sure we got in as much trouble as possible for any little bit of underage magic we did." Hermione observed Harry carefully when she said "that night." She was relieved when he only looked down at the table for a few seconds.

"He knew his days were numbered," she continued, "so he wanted to try to take as many of us with him as he could. Since Fawkes moves under his own magical power, technically I'm not using magic when I call for him. I'm only speaking." Hermione looked very pleased with herself.

She then suddenly remembered something. "Oh, I forgot! Fudge got sacked last week. Did you hear?" Harry shook his head. "They've already picked a new Minister. I'll tell you about that later."

After pausing for a second to remember where she was in her story, Hermione continued. "So, I sent them letters telling them that I was worried about you, that you hadn't replied to my letter." Right as Harry began to feel another pang of guilt approach, Hermione shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

Seeing the smile immediately swept away the impending guilt. Somehow he just knew that things would be OK as long as that smile was there.

"I asked them why you had to stay with those awful relatives of yours," Hermione explained. "I asked them why you couldn't stay somewhere else... somewhere where either they wouldn't lock you in your room, or they wouldn't let you lock yourself in your room." Hermione paused for a moment to collect herself. She appeared to have gotten slightly agitated as she recalled her initial letters to her professors.

"Professor McGonagall replied first," Hermione finally continued. "She said that while she agreed with me, it was not her decision to make, and that there were 'larger issues' in play. I finally got it out of the Headmaster later that those 'issues' were unique protections that were inherent to number four, Privet Drive."

A look of annoyance then appeared on Hermione's face. "It's a good think Fawkes travels fast. I sent him three letters that day, and got back his responses." Hermione then chuckled slightly. "I suppose it's the Wizarding equivalent of email. I don't imagine you've ever used email before, have you?" she asked Harry.

Harry shook his head. "Dudley got a new computer this year. When he's not terrorizing the neighborhood children, he's on sending messages to his cronies. Oh, and he looks up stuff," Harry said, peaking his eyebrow (in a very Mr. Spock sort of way, as Hermione futilely tried to explain the next day), "lots and lots of stuff."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head (at Dudley's online activities) and then continued her story. "It felt like Professor Dumbledore was trying to steer me in a certain direction. He gave half-answers to some of my more direct questions. It seemed like he was trying to get me to convince myself that you needed to stay there."

Hermione frowned slightly. "But, since I didn't know anything about what magic was in place there, I couldn't really make a convincing argument against you staying there other than that I just didn't like the idea of you being there all alone.

"I knew there was more to it than just what he wrote, and that he could do more for you if he really wanted to. It started to make me mad that he seemed willing to just leave you there, as if it were simply the most convenient solution.

"I decided that if they weren't going to help you, then I'd just have to do something—" Hermione paused to take a deep breath as though she were steeling herself to actually say it, "to help you help yourself." Hermione gave Harry a nervous look as though she still wasn't sure if she did the right thing.

Fortunately, Harry was able to see this, and immediately gave her a reassuring smile. When he silently spoke the words "Thank you," her expression immediately brightened.

Dan then picked up the story. "As I told you earlier, she spent the next week and a half working on that letter." Embarrassed that he told Harry how much time she spent on it, Hermione immediately shot an evil glare at her father.

She then resumed the story suddenly, as though to keep her parents from saying anything else that might be embarrassing. "It was too much... I couldn't work on more than a couple paragraphs at a time... it was too painful. But I knew I had to do it. I must've had five or six drafts of that letter by the time it was done."

Harry suddenly remembered back to the letter. He did notice that the handwriting of almost the entire letter had a certain flow to it. It did look like that it had all been written at once, or now that he thought about it, copied from an earlier draft. But then why did that one sentence look like it was added on? Harry wondered to himself.

"I called for Fawkes," Hermione continued, "and asked him if he could send Hedwig over when she went out hunting. I couldn't summon her or another owl with a standard Owl Post spell, of course. Even with Fudge gone, it'd still be underage magic. I didn't really know if Fawkes could do anything, but I had to try. I hoped that if my letter arrived with Hedwig, it might be received a little better than if you thought it came from the Headmaster via Fawkes."

Harry had to agree with that assessment. Prior to receiving Hermione's letter, he was quite sure he would not have been happy to see Fawkes with what he assumed would be a letter from Dumbledore.

"But," Hermione continued, "it obviously worked, since Hedwig showed up here Friday evening. She seemed eager to see me and was quite happy when I offered her a couple of owl treats. After talking to her for a little bit, I sent her on her way with the letter. All I could do then was wait." Hermione fidgeted a little in her seat.

"And then the next day, Hedwig arrived with your thank-you letter. Well, I already told you in that letter how I felt about that." Hermione tried to keep her smile in check as she spoke. Dan and Emma had to suppress their smiles too.

"I immediately called Fawkes again and sent the Headmaster another letter. I told him I had to talk with him as soon as possible. He eventually agreed to visit us here the next day. Once that was settled, I, erm, started reading up on other things." Hermione had a slightly guilty look on her face.

"The only thing we had here was one of those home medical references. There was just a short couple paragraphs about... loss, but that was all I really needed." There was a very pregnant pause as everyone seemed to think this was an ideal moment to take a deep breath. Hermione then continued her story.

"So then, Sunday morning, yesterday, Professor Dumbledore came and visited us. What exactly he expected, I don't know. But I will admit he did seem taken aback. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I felt you should be moved out of there. Do you know what he said?" Hermione suddenly asked Harry. He shook his head.

"He said that he had been monitoring your emotional state all along. One of those hands on his watch. He said that you had seemed to come through a bit of a breakthrough, and so all the more reason to not bother you with distractions. Oooh, it made me so MAD!" Hermione actually slammed her hand down on the kitchen table. Harry seemed surprised, though he noticed Dan and Emma weren't, as though they had seen this particular reaction recently.

"He's known ALL ALONG what you've been going through there, and he did NOTHING to help you!" Hermione seemed to be getting upset. Harry reached across the table and set his hand over top of the one she had just slammed down. She closed her eyes for a second and then immediately seemed to calm down. As her face visibly relaxed, Harry suddenly remembered than Dan and Emma were sitting on either side of him.

Suddenly self-conscious, he withdrew his hand as casually (and quickly) as possible, refusing to look at either of them. If he had, he would have seen them trying to hide the slight smiles they had given each other.

A look of pride suddenly appeared on Hermione's face. "Do you know what I asked him? I asked him why there was a change. He didn't know. He said he hadn't been watching you that closely, to give you some privacy. He was simply monitoring your condition. I gave him my final draft of my letter and told him that was why."

Dan suddenly interrupted with a slight grin on his face. "Well... I wouldn't say 'gave' exactly. More like 'threw at him.'"

Hermione shot a reproachful glare at her father then looked to her mother for support. Emma made no effort to correct Dan's assessment.

Knowing she wouldn't be saved by her traitorous parents, Hermione resumed the story. "He read my letter to you. When he finished... if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. He actually seemed to be surprised. But then within a few seconds, it was gone. He handed the letter back to me and asked if you had made any reply yet. I showed him your letter. Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind," she suddenly added.

Harry smiled and shook his head. Hermione smiled in relief. "The Headmaster read your letter. He actually turned it over to see if there was anything else written. He thought about it for a minute or so, and then seemed very pleased about everything.

"He started his little effort again to try to get me to convince myself you needed to stay there. After about five minutes of us going back and forth, I could again tell he was carefully trying to avoid something.

"Finally, one of his answers changed slightly. He said you needed to stay with your aunt, instead of at number four. Suddenly, things started falling into place. The things he seemed to be avoiding, the way he was trying to steer me in a certain direction to convince myself... it all began to suggest that this all had to do with the protections at your aunt's house." Harry noticed her emphasis.

"Now, I didn't know everything," Hermione started to say. Harry visibly scoffed at the statement; that earned him an "Oh honestly," and a roll of her eyes, even though she did look amused. "But, as soon as he mentioned your aunt specifically, I realized that whatever was protecting you may have been tied more to her presence, rather than the house itself. If that was the case, it suggested you didn't have to stay in the house there the whole time. Besides, you've always been able to leave early before, so why was this year any different?"

Harry realized he hadn't considered that. It seemed so obvious now that Hermione had mentioned it. "And so I asked him how long you HAD to remain at your aunt's house." A look of satisfaction appeared on her face. "He just sort of stared at me over his glasses for a few seconds. He then said I had figured out too much already, so he decided to tell me exactly why you had to stay there, so I would at least know the truth. He seemed to be under the impression I would better accept you staying there that way.

"I told him you've been able to leave early for the last four years. I again asked him how long you had to stay there. He said it was for the best that you remain there." Hermione paused again for a moment. "I again handed him the letter I sent you, and then waved the letter you sent in reply in front of him. 'Best for whom?' I asked him very quietly.

"He sat down in one of our chairs and closed his eyes for a second. I don't think I've ever seen him look as old as he did just then. He then looked back at me and said something very quietly, more to himself. It sounded like 'I'm doing it again.' He wouldn't explain what he meant by that. He said you could, if you chose to," Hermione added very subtly.

Ten minutes later, Harry had recounted everything that had happened in Dumbledore's office after they returned from the Department of Mysteries. Everything that is, except the parts about the prophecy. Harry wasn't ready to drop that bomb on Hermione just yet, at least not on the first day.

Once everyone had digested Harry's new information, Hermione then picked up where she had left off. "He sighed deeply and then stood up. He handed back my letter and finally admitted that you had already been there long enough to ensure your blood protections. I was about to say something I knew might earn me a detention, even though we're on holiday, when he interrupted me before I even got started.

"He again just sort of stared at me for a few seconds and then asked what I had in mind on how to resolve the situation. I told him that you needed to be somewhere more supportive than with the Dursleys. The Burrow was out of the question just like last year. If anything, it's even more of a target than last year. Because of that, Ron and his family are staying at Grimmauld Place, so you couldn't stay there either."

Seeing the look of confusion on Harry's face (along with a hint of relief), Hermione quickly added, "Oh, I never did tell you about that, did I? In a minute. So, that seemed to leave just two options left: Hogwarts or... here."

Hermione thought for a moment, and then she smiled. "Or, I suppose we could've just booked you a room at that Holiday Inn we saw when we drove back from our shopping trip." Harry shook his head at the idea of spending the rest of his summer in some motel room, even if it was close to the Granger's house.

"He then asked me again what I had in mind to resolve the situation," Hermione explained. "I told him that I didn't think Hogwarts was the best choice. For one thing, most of the professors have gone on holiday themselves, so it'd probably be pretty lonely there. And for another thing, you probably wouldn't be very welcome there anyway."

Harry was about to ask when Hermione explained, beating him to it. "The castle needs a holiday from the students too. The castle tends to get cranky if it doesn't have some time to itself. The moving staircases, the trick doors and stairs, they all are a little less amusing when they're... encouraging you to leave. Honestly Harry, are you ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?" she asked at the surprised look on his face.

Fortunately, Harry already knew the answer to that question. He grinned and shook his head. "Why would I ever need to when I have you... to tell me what it says, that is?" he said, slightly embarrassed at the way it sounded originally.

Hermione tried to give Harry a disapproving glare, though she was given away by a slight grin. "So, since Hogwarts wasn't really that good of a choice, I told the Headmaster that... I-thought-you-should-stay-with-us," she said very quickly.

Not wanting to continue down this path, Hermione then returned to an earlier topic. "Do you remember I said that Grimmauld Place wasn't really an ideal location for you right now?" she asked; Harry nodded.

"Well, since the Headmaster originally planned on you staying with your aunt and uncle for the whole summer, he told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that they could stay there for the summer. Professor Lupin had moved into Sirius's room, and then everyone else moved back into their old rooms from last year. Everything would have been fine for you to join them, but then Fudge got sacked.

"When they got rid of him, they got rid of all of his staff also. And that meant Percy too," Hermione said. Harry was tempted to grin at Percy's misfortune, but the slight frown on Hermione's face suggested that there might be more to the story and that it wasn't the right sentiment at the moment. He quickly quashed the smile.

"Percy was out of a job," Hermione explained. "And not only that, but he was now blacklisted as one of Fudge's people. No one would hire him. Penelope kicked him out when he demanded she choose between him and Professor Dumbledore. He had nothing left. He had no choice but to go crawling back to his family.

"Ron, Ginny, and Fred and George," Hermione paused for a second to think, "and Bill, and Charlie, and Mr. Weasley... they weren't too eager to welcome him back. But Mrs. Weasley told them all that now was not the time to turn their backs on him. Even if they all couldn't come to terms with each other, they still should at least give him a place to stay."

Hermione paused again to take another deep breath. "So, they let him in. Professor Lupin moved out temporarily, and now they have the whole house to themselves. Mr. Weasley asked everyone for as few distractions as possible while they tried to see if they could reintegrate Percy back into the family."

Hermione let out a slightly disappointed sigh. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned to me he has already been by there twice to undo whatever Fred or George did to Percy. I don't know if they'll be successful or not, welcoming him back, but everyone else is doing their best to give them that chance. Even the Order is meeting elsewhere for the time being."

Harry let out a slow breath. "To be honest, I'm glad it happened. I'm glad that there's even the slightest chance that they might be able to bring Percy back. And I'm glad he got sacked." Harry scowled slightly. "Percy's an insufferable prat," Harry's scowl faded, "but he's still their family. And right now, family means more than it ever did." Harry's eyes seemed to go out of focus for a few seconds as he stared at nothing just over Hermione's shoulder.

As his eyes came back into focus, he fixed his stare on Hermione for a moment. "And I'm glad I'm here now. I just don't think I'm ready to go back there yet. I know I'll have to eventually. I'm sure Sirius left it to me..." Harry's voice faded away as he realized he had forgotten all about his letter from Gringotts.

Harry watched as Hermione came to the same realization as he at the same time. A look of surprise came over her face. "Merlin's beard, Harry! You never opened your letter! Let's go get it! Mum, Dad, Harry got a letter from Gringotts and we think it has to do with Sirius's will!" she spoke very rapidly, very excited. "We'll be back in a second."

Harry and Hermione stood up and walked into the living room towards the staircase. Right as they reached the stairs, Dan turned in his chair towards them. "Harry," he called, "while you're up there, don't forget to send your letters. All of your friends need to hear from you." Dan gave him a heavy stare as he spoke.

"Yeah," Harry replied, "I just need to send out the rest of them." Harry hoped he understood.

Dan nodded slightly. "When you're done, come back down and we'll see if we can find something to do tonight."

As the two of them reentered Harry's room, they noticed Hedwig was now awake. She had eaten the owl treat and looked about as happy as an owl can. Harry walked over to the bed and retrieved his Gringotts letter from the middle of it. He noted with amusement that Hermione had managed to set it down in exactly the same place he originally found it.

He held the envelope of heavy parchment in his hands gingerly, as though he expected it might explode. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Hermione sat down on the chair across from him; she looked at him expectantly. Harry knew she wouldn't wait much longer. With a brave face, Harry broke the wax seal and opened the letter.

He could feel Hermione watching him closely as he read the letter. He couldn't tell if she was watching him for an emotional reaction or if she just wanted to know what was in the letter. It was a very short letter. Once he finished it, he set it down and looked up at her. It took everything he had to not laugh at what he saw.

Hermione was practically perched on the edge of the seat in anticipation. She looked as though someone was about to tell her the secrets of the universe. Harry half expected her to jump him right there and throttle him for answers. Fortunately, she decided to simply ask instead.

"WELL? What does it say?" she asked most dramatically.

Harry looked back at her with a disbelieving grin. "Probably the same thing YOURS does," he replied, trying to mimic the tone and urgency of her voice. "I saw you had one too when you sat down next to me earlier."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly stopped mid-word, "Wel—." She appeared completely dumbfounded. "Oh my goodness! I completely forgot about that! How could I have forgotten about it?" She now looked highly embarrassed.

Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry's bed to retrieve her letter. "It's so silly of... Where is it? It's gone! I set both of them down together on the pillow. It was right here!" Hermione started to look unsettled.

She began to walk around the room, searching for her letter. She looked under the pillow, and on top of the night stand, and behind the bed where it was pushed up against the wall. Harry even watched as she got down on her hands and knees and stuck her head under the bed to see if it had somehow fallen under it.

Finally giving up, she sat down next to Harry and tried retracing her steps in her mind. "It was here when I set it down," she said aloud to herself. "And then we talked, and then we went downstairs to make dinner. And then I didn't remember it until..."

A sudden dawning look or realization washed across Hermione's face. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "I forgot all about it." She seemed very pleased with herself, considering that she had forgotten about it. Grabbing Harry's hand, she abruptly stood up and started for the door, pulling him behind her. "Come on, Harry. Let's go get it."

Since Harry had no idea what she was talking about, he simply followed her (as if he really had any choice anyway). After walking out the door, instead of turning left to go downstairs, she turned right and led Harry down the hall to a part of the house he had not yet seen.

As they walked down the hall, Harry was sure to make note of the bathroom on the left. Always important to know where that is, Harry thought to himself. At the end of the hall were two last doors, one on the left and right. Hermione turned right and led Harry into her bedroom.

Upon entering her room, she let go of his hand and immediately strode over to her bed. There, Harry saw a Gringotts letter identical to his sitting on the bed, in exactly the same place as he found his. Harry could not help but think how curious this was.

After picking up her letter, Hermione turned to Harry and showed him the letter. "I forgot all about it while we were talking," she explained. "These Gringotts letters are for official banking business. They're charmed to only be opened by the addressee. If you lose it, or it's stolen, or you forget about it," she added sheepishly, "it will automatically return to its place of delivery where you originally found it.

"That way," she continued, "you can never say you didn't get it. If you ever lose track of it, you simply go back to where you first found it, and it'll be there waiting for you."

Harry was impressed. "Brilliant," he proclaimed, though he wasn't sure whether he was more impressed with the goblin banking magic or Hermione's knowledge of it.

A slight grin appeared on her face. "Well, I did read a little about the history of Gringotts."

Harry simply nodded. He then looked at her expectantly. "Well? What does it say?" he repeated. Hermione opened the letter and began to read it. As she read it, Harry quickly looked around her room. Harry knew his room back at Privet Drive was much more a reflection of his life there than he himself. He was very curious to see how Hermione's room reflected her.

As he looked around the room, he quickly came to one conclusion: the room looked exactly like the sixteen-year old Hermione he knew had recently moved into a room belonging to an eleven-year old Hermione he had never met.

The room was predominately pink, like her "Princess" T-shirt, with lacy, frilly things like the curtains. Here and there however, there were recent additions of red and gold. The comforter on the bed (which Harry noticed was made... when was the last time he made his bed?) was certainly of Gryffindor design, red with gold trim and a large lion embroidered in the middle. This must have been something she had found in some shop in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Resting against the pillow were two stuffed animals.

Against the wall behind her was what he most expected: several bookcases full of books. There must have been at least a hundred books all together. Beneath the window next to the bookcases, where the afternoon sun was sure to pour in, was a cat basket, currently filled with a napping Crookshanks. Against the side wall was a dresser, upon which sat several hair brushes and combs (of which Harry was going to make no comment). Above the dresser, next to the large mirror was a framed copy of the previous March's edition of The Quibbler, in which Harry gave his now famous interview.

As he looked at the photograph of him grinning sheepishly back at him and the accompanying headline, he recalled that at the time he wasn't entirely sure about giving the interview. Now, it was one of the best things from that year.

As his eyes continued to scan around the room, he came across the closet. Just as his had been, the right sliding door was open and the left was closed. Neatly hanging where he could see them were Hermione's school uniforms and robes. Like most human beings presented with a closed door, Harry was curious what was behind it. But, that would have been crossing a line. As much as he didn't want to sample Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex, he was absolutely sure he'd take that any day over whatever hex Hermione might throw at him should she be provoked.

In the corner was what looked like a bookshelf. Instead of books however, it was filled with stuffed animals. Must be a collection from her pre-Hogwarts days, Harry deduced. He had never seen her with one, nor had she ever mentioned them, so he assumed they were from when she was younger. They were all teddy bears of different sizes, styles, and colors. All of them were in varying states. Some were in relatively good condition while others were quite worn.

Harry quickly looked back to the two animals on the bed. These two were not bears like the others on the shelves. One was what looked like a reindeer. He grinned slightly, checking for a red nose; surprisingly however, it didn't have one. The other one was small gray animal. He had to think about it for a second before he realized what it was: an otter. Harry smiled as he remembered watching her Patronus wander around the Room of Requirement.

Returning to where he had left off, he had nearly finished circling the room when he saw Hermione's desk. Neatly stacked on some shelves above the desk were her school books, in addition to the home medical reference she had mentioned. In the center of the desk were her quill and ink, as well as a stack of parchment.

Seeing the blank sheets, his eyes immediately wandered to the bin next to the desk. He could see a small mountain of crumpled up sheets of parchment. Returning to the desktop, he saw several picture frames on the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione was still reading; it had only taken him about ten seconds to look around the room so far.

As she was still occupied, he could not help but take a few steps forward to get a better look at the photographs. He was pleasantly surprised when he heard his reasonable side (in Hermione's voice) reassuring him.

The pictures are out where anyone can see them. That's what pictures are for.

On the right side of the desk were three portraits, Muggle photographs. The first one was a family shot of Hermione, Dan, and Emma. By the looks of her, it had been taken within the last year or so; he assumed it was last summer before she went to Grimmauld Place. The second picture was of a pair of older couples that Harry expected to be her grandparents. The third picture looked to have been taken at a family reunion. There were hints of Hermione, Dan, and Emma all throughout the photograph. He guessed that these were her aunts, uncles, and cousins.

When he approached the desk, his eye was immediately drawn to the photograph of Hermione and her parents; it was the largest one, after all. As he finished looking at the three on the right side, he noticed something gold on the left. Looking on the other side, he found two wizarding photographs. Harry immediately recognized the one on the left. It was a picture of himself, Hermione, and Ron from first year. He had the exact same picture. Hagrid gave it to him when he gave Harry the album of photographs of his parents; Hermione must have gotten one too.

The second picture Harry did not recognize. Since it was a magical photograph that displayed the same scene continuously, he had to watch the entire loop before he could figure out what it was. The picture was of people flying around the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. It looked like it was taken from the stands, which were empty. Colin, Harry thought to himself. Harry was so used to seeing his housemate taking pictures that he no longer noticed the flashes of the bulb.

In the few seconds that were displayed, Harry watched himself zoom by (quite close to the camera actually), his arm stretched out in reach of the gold blur he was chasing. He had mixture of excitement and determination on his face. Is that really what my hair looks like when I'm flying? he wondered.

Harry now knew first hand why his father kept ruffling up his hair as he saw in Snape's memory. The memory of his father mercilessly tormenting Snape when they were in school still did not sit well with Harry. As such, he promised himself he would not repeat his father's primping, even though he had to admit that his hair did look cool.

Behind him, he saw... one, two, three redheads fly past and wave at the camera... and in the distance, a fourth was hovering near the goals along with two more people on either side of him, all also waving. This must have been a Gryffindor practice session from last year... before he and the Weasley twins got kicked off the team by the evil Toad Woman.

When the picture reset itself, starting again, he could not help by smile broadly. This, he most certainly would have to comment on. She likes Quidditch a little more than she lets on, Harry thought to himself triumphantly, as he recalled Dan's comments from earlier.

Between the two photographs was the golden item that had caught his eye a few seconds earlier. It was Hermione's golden Galleon from the D.A. She had it set up in display on a small frame that Harry guessed was designed for displaying coins. If it were any other Galleon or coin, he would have thought very little of it. But now, this particular Galleon, displayed as it was, it looked like some medal she had been awarded.

After quickly glancing at the two wizarding photographs again, Harry again looked back at the photograph of Hermione, Dan, and Emma. It was a regular, non-moving Muggle photograph. As he looked at it, he began to notice how the lack of motion actually seemed to capture something that was missing from the moving pictures. It was literally a single moment, frozen in time.

Dan and Emma were standing side by side, each with an arm around the other. Hermione was standing in front of them, between them. Dan and Emma each had their free hands on Hermione's shoulders. The image seemed to have a timeless quality to it that somehow enhanced all of the details. All three of them were smiling, for the camera of course. They looked so happy, though.

They looked like they didn't have a care in the world. Dan had lamented on how little they saw of their daughter anymore. He supposed that they made every effort to enjoy themselves while they were together. Hermione looked especially happy being there with them. She had done something different with her hair for the picture, Harry suddenly noticed.

The photography studio must've had a stylist there for last minute adjustments to help people look their best. Normally, her bushy brown hair was simply pulled back, out of the way. Now, her styled and slightly curled locks cascaded in brunette rivulets over her shoulders. Harry had to admit that Hermione did look very pretty in that picture.

Surprised by that admission, Harry wondered briefly if he should be worried about it or not. "But I don't think you're ugly," he remembered telling her a few months ago. He wasn't sure if that made it better or not. But, he knew it was the truth, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn't whether he thought she was pretty, it was whether everyone else knew he did. And he didn't really expect her or anyone else to ask him if he thought she was pretty, so he wasn't going to worry about it too much.

Feeling that he had explored enough for one day, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione. It had been about thirty seconds since she started reading the letter. If this letter was the same as his, she should be done any time now.

Sure enough, about five seconds later, she finished reading it and looked back up at Harry. She handed the letter to him. "Is this the same as yours?" she asked tentatively. Harry took it and began to read.

To Hermione Jane Granger,

In the Matter of the Resolution of the Will of Sirius Black,

Your presence is hereby requested and required at Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley on the morning of August 1, at 9:00AM.

Upon your arrival, please go to the Estates Department and ask for Darmok, Executor of the Black Estate.

Please make correspondence with the Executor if you will be unable to attend. As per the Banking Reform Act of 1993, unclaimed Inheritances or Estates become the Property of the Ministry of Magic after one Month has elapsed. Therefore, it is your responsibility to make arrangements in a timely manner if you will be unable to attend.

According to our records, you are currently not Of Age. As such, the presence of your Parents is also requested, however it is not required.

With Regards,

Martok

Gringotts Probate Department

Harry looked back up at Hermione. "Yeah, it's the same as mine," he confirmed. "Though mine says 'guardians' instead of 'parents.' I guess they're sticklers for details," Harry said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Harry thought about the letters for a moment. Well, at least we have a few weeks before we have to do this, Harry thought to himself with a mixture of emotions. He was sad of course that he had to even do this in the first place. He knew he would gladly rather be helping Sirius clean up after Buckbeak, the Muggle way... with a shovel, than finding out how much money he would be receiving.

But at the same time, he was glad that he had several weeks to prepare for it. He knew that no matter what, it would not be easy. But after receiving Hermione's letter, he knew it that he would be able to face it. He hoped that the next few weeks would lessen the impact.

Harry began to wonder about something. "Erm, Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"How did you know that these letters were about Sirius's will?"

"Oh," Hermione said, relieved that Harry seemed to have taken the letters as well as she hoped.

"Well, at first I didn't know what it was," she admitted. "I don't even have an account at Gringotts. I had no idea why they would be contacting me. We normally just exchange our pound notes for Galleons and then go do our shopping.

"But when I came into your room and saw you had an identical letter, it just sort of clicked. Why would the both of us be getting a letter from Gringotts at the same time? I knew it had to be for important banking business, since Gringotts never contacts their customers unless they need them to come in. After all, a contacted customer is just another opportunity for a withdrawal, right?" Hermione smiled lightly.

"So, considering we both got letters at the same time, and considering the timing of it to... recent events, it just seemed to make sense," Hermione explained. Harry nodded slightly and gave the letter back to her.

After a few moments, Hermione started to raise her arm as though she were going to put her hand on his shoulder, but stopped after a few inches, returning it to her side. Suspecting that she was about to ask if he was alright, Harry saved her the trouble.

"Well, at least we have a few weeks before we have to do this," he said, voicing his earlier thoughts. After both silently agreed, Harry and Hermione returned to Harry's room. He strode over to Hedwig's cage, opening it. He reached in and stroked her head, allowing her to nip at his fingers affectionately.

"So girl, do you feel up to delivering some letters, letting my friends know I'm alive and what a git I've been?" Harry asked with a smile. Hedwig let out a few quick hoots and shifted left and right on her perch in what appeared to be eagerness.

Harry retrieved his completed thank-you letters and brought them to Hedwig. As he tied the letters to both legs and put one in her beak, he explained her deliveries. "Now I know there's a bunch of them, but it's only three stops. The one on your left leg goes to Neville Longbottom and his grandmother. The one in your beak is for Luna Lovegood and her father. I don't know if they're back from Sweden or not, so you can just drop it in their house if they're not. And then the last three are for Ron Weasley and his family. Think you can handle all that?" he asked with a smile.

Hedwig puffed herself up and flexed her wings slightly as if to assure him that she was a proper mail owl and could handle any delivery. Harry walked over and opened the window. As she started to head for the window, Harry told her, "You can stay the night with Ron if you want. It'll probably be late by the time you get there." Once in the air, Harry called out at the last second after her, "and be nice to Pig while you're there."

When they returned downstairs, Harry and Hermione both showed their letters to Dan and Emma. After reading them, Emma looked up and over at the calendar on the wall. "Well, August first is on a Friday. It's far enough that we can reschedule any appointments... if you want us to come, that is."

Hermione nodded her head and looked very happy. "If we know what our classes will be by then, we can make it a day and do our school shopping as well. If not, we can always go back. I never got around to asking Professor McGonagall how class selection worked, since we have to wait to get our O.W.L. results first."

Once it was decided that they would all go together, the Grangers and their new house guest decided to move into the living room to enjoy the remainder of their evening. As Dan and Emma settled into the loveseat and got comfortable (very comfortable, Harry noticed, but nothing inappropriate for mixed company), Harry took a seat on one end of the sofa. Hermione headed over to the entertainment center.

Harry watched as she walked over and started looking through the video cassettes. Emma's voice caused Harry to look back at them. "We only have one rule when we spend time together as a family: No books." Harry smiled slightly.

"We never discourage Hermione from reading, of course," Emma explained, "but since we've had so little time with her these last five years, when we are together, we only want activities that we can all share in, at the same time. I'd rather have the four of us enjoy a movie or television show together than for each of us to be lost in our own book. I hope you can abide by that rule, Harry."

"Don't worry," Hermione suddenly added, still looking at the videos, "he will." Harry didn't know if she was teasing him or warning him; either way, he had the good grace to look guilty.

"So, Harry, anything in particular you'd like to see?" Dan asked. "I don't imagine you're much of a movie connoisseur considering your... background." That much was certainly true. Harry could remember going to the movies twice. Both times it had been because Vernon and Petunia couldn't find anyone to watch him, and Dudley had made such a fuss about possibly missing the movie that he actually yelled at them to just bring Harry with them so they could leave and he could get there early enough to get the seat he wanted.

Both times, it hadn't been the experience Harry hoped it would. For one thing, the movie was always what Dudley wanted to see. That usually ended up being some terribly violent and bloody horror movie. Harry noticed that even his aunt and uncle didn't seem to enjoy them. And for another thing, Harry always had to sit wedged between his aunt and uncle where they could keep an eye on him. Sitting next to his beefy uncle was not a pleasant experience, as he was literally spilling over the sides of the theater seat and onto Harry.

As Harry considered the movie viewing possibilities, he could not help but hear Hermione's voice echo in his mind. "One day at a time," he remembered her promising him. He decided the best way to live up to that was to try to make the most of the time he had there with Hermione, and her parents. He wanted to enjoy himself as much as possible.

"How about a comedy?" Harry finally suggested. "As you know, my... experience is limited, so if any of you have a favorite, that's fine with me."

Right after speaking the word "favorite," Harry hear Hermione let out a quiet snort of laughter, as though there was no question as to what comedy they should watch. Indeed, within a few seconds, she had pulled a video cassette out of its cardboard sleeve. He couldn't read the title from where he was sitting, though he did see that the box was blue and had what looked like a knot on the cover. In his mind, Harry shrugged his shoulders and trusted that Hermione knew what she was doing.

At that thought, Harry smiled, trying not to laugh at himself for thinking that.

After putting the cassette in the VCR, Hermione returned to the sofa and asked Harry if he wanted popcorn. When he said he did, she asked her parents if they wanted any also. When they nodded, she headed into the kitchen to start it. As she left the room, the movie started.

'Airplane!'? Harry wondered to himself. He looked over and saw that Dan and Emma seemed to be grinning in anticipation. He turned back to the television and waited to see what was going to be so good about this movie.

By the time Hermione had finished making the popcorn, Harry was already watery-eyed and having difficulty breathing from laughing so much. Much to his relief, he heard Hermione calling him from the kitchen to help carry the drinks. He hoped this brief interruption would give him a moment to recover.

As Harry walked into the kitchen, Hermione took one look at his face and smiled. "Enjoying the movie so far, Harry?" Harry only nodded; he didn't dare open his mouth for fear of starting to laugh again.

After picking up the two large bowls of popcorn, Hermione nodded towards the tray with four glasses on it. "Would you carry that please?" she asked. As Harry began to pick it up, Hermione glanced back into the living room. When she was sure Dan and Emma were still paying attention to the movie, she turned back to Harry, whispering.

"If the chance arises, please make sure you let either Mum or Dad see you brushing your teeth. Yes, I know it sounds strange, but you have to remember they're both dentists," Hermione explained. "They don't mind if we have Cokes and popcorn for special occasions like this, but they expect proper dental care afterwards. You know, sugary drinks and popcorn shells that get stuck between your teeth. They'll have my head if they think I haven't instilled good brushing habits in you."

Harry gave Hermione a funny look, but seeing she was serious, he agreed. "But only if the situation arises." He then added jokingly, "I'm not going to run around the house yelling 'Look Mummy, I can brush my teef.'"

Picking up a small stack of serviettes, Hermione then returned to the living room. She handed one bowl of popcorn to her parents, and then settled on one end of the sofa. Following behind her, Harry handed two of the drinks to Dan and Emma, and then one to Hermione. He then sat down on the other end of the sofa. Everyone now settled, they all turned their attentions to the movie.

After Hermione had asked for the bowl of popcorn for the fifth time (it had been going back and forth between them for the last twenty minutes), Harry turned to her and tried to look as annoyed as he could, even though he really wasn't.

"You know, this'd be a whole lot easier if you just sat next to me instead of all the way over there," Harry said in an exasperated tone. "I don't have boy germs, you know." Emma immediately let out a snort and then started laughing, though not from the movie. Dan was able to escape with only a few chuckles.

Hermione, not knowing what everyone found so funny, looked at her parents. "What?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Emma said. "That was my fault. I had accused them of being afraid of each other's boy germs earlier today."

Hermione looked at her mother skeptically for a moment and then slid over closer to Harry. After Harry set the bowl between them, she turned back to the movie, shaking her head in disbelief, as if to say "Parents!"

About ten minutes later, Harry heard a strange scratching noise behind him. Subtly moving his hand towards his pocket where he still had his wand, he asked Hermione as calmly and innocently as he could (just in case someone was nearby), "What was that?"

"That," Hermione said, clearly not concerned, "is Crookshanks climbing up the back of the sofa." In fact, she even sounded slightly annoyed. "He's smelled the popcorn, and now he'll be up on top here begging for some."

Harry looked at Hermione incredulously. "He likes popcorn?"

"Only the buttered pieces," she clarified, still watching the movie.

"He really likes popcorn?" Harry repeated, still surprised.

"Yeah. Just watch. He'll pace back and forth between us until one of us starts eating. Then he'll mark them as his target." Hermione looked over at Harry with a bit of a grin.

"Go ahead and try it," Hermione dared him. "Eat some slowly, but whatever you do, don't pay any attention to him."

Harry knew Crookshanks was smart, but this he had to see for himself. Sure enough, Crookshanks made it to the top of the sofa and started walking back and forth between Harry and Hermione, mewing very softly. No one visibly paid any attention to him.

Harry then grabbed a handful of popcorn, and slowly ate it, one piece at a time, making sure to give Crookshanks a chance to see him. Within a few seconds, Crookshanks was sitting above Harry's right shoulder purring very loudly. As Harry continued to watch the movie, he could see Hermione shaking slightly in silent laughter.

When he grabbed another handful of popcorn, Harry felt Crookshanks put his two front paws on his shoulder, as though he was starting to climb down. The purring intensified and then Crookshanks mewed again, this time a little more insistently. Harry heard Dan stifle a laugh. Hermione had turned her head enough so she could watch what she knew was about to happen.

When Harry slowly brought a particularly buttery piece of popcorn towards his mouth, Crookshanks suddenly swiped out with one paw and grabbed a hold of Harry's hand with his claws. "Ouch!" Harry exclaimed. He could feel Crookshanks trying to pull his hand towards him.

Surprised by the "attack," Harry dropped the piece of popcorn. Crookshanks immediately jumped down and began to eat his prize. Ouch again, Harry thought as Crookshanks' claws retracted out of his leg.

Harry wanted to be mad at Crookshanks for the new holes in his hand and leg, but seeing him grab hold of his hand was just too funny. He finally gave up and joined the other three in laughter.

Crookshanks was now looking up at Harry, purring again. "Yes, yes, more popcorn," he said to the animal.

"Only a couple more, Crookshanks," Hermione warned her familiar. "You eat too much butter and it makes you sick." Harry could have sworn Crookshanks scowled at Hermione.

A few pieces later, Crookshanks tried to curl up into a ball for a nap on Harry's lap, but the frequent bouts of laughter quickly dissuaded him from that; he eventually jumped down and headed upstairs.

Near the end of the movie, everyone seemed quite exhausted from the nearly constant laughing. After first asking Hermione if she wanted them, Harry put the last couple of pieces of popcorn into his mouth as he looked away from the screen. Then he heard one of the actors say "She's beginning to shake."

As he glanced back at the television and saw what Striker was referring to, Harry began laughing so hard, he nearly choked on his popcorn. Everyone else in the room looked at him in amusement when they realized he was okay.

After catching his breath, Harry looked at everyone, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I guess I need to relearn how to eat," he joked, thinking about how this was the second time today he had nearly choked on something.

"Or maybe we just need to start screening these movies for the jiggly bits and tell you when not to look?" Dan suggested teasingly.

"No," Harry quickly assured him, "No, I just need to learn how to eat. No need for anything drastic like that," he said with a slight grin.

"Well," Hermione mused dramatically, "I don't know. He does spend a lot of time around Ron, Seamus, and Dean. Their less-than-noble attitudes toward women may have rubbed off on him slightly." She looked like she was only a few seconds away from a fit of laughter.

"I assure you that won't be necessary," Harry promised with a smile. After the scene he had just watched in the movie, it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his eyes on her face.

Finally, the movie was over. It was getting late. After putting the dishes in the kitchen, Dan and Emma said they were going to head up and start getting ready for bed. As Hermione got up to turn off the television and put away the movie, Harry sat on the sofa for a few moments reflecting on his first day in his new home.

He had moved out of number four, Privet Drive today. He assumed all along that we would be going to Grimmauld Place. Now that he wasn't, he realized that he really hadn't been looking forward to returning there. Fortunately, Hermione had come to his rescue (again) and found a new temporary home for him: hers. They had gone shopping and Harry got all new clothes... clothes that fit him.

They had a most excellent lunch and the best dinner Harry could remember in a long time. Yep, I think Ron is rubbing off on me, Harry thought to himself. He had been notified of Sirius's will, and had survived it. But he had nearly choked on his food twice. Yes, all in all, it was a very busy day; he was quite ready for bed.

Hermione was turning off the last of the lights downstairs as Harry began to head upstairs. When he reached the second floor, he noticed Dan and Emma's bedroom door was still open. Bypassing his room, he went down and knocked on the doorframe, being sure to stay back so he couldn't see in the room, just to be polite (and safe).

When Dan came to the door, Harry tried to look embarrassed. "Sorry, I know this may seem odd, but you don't happen to have any spare toothpaste? I forgot I'm all out," he lied. He knew he had some left.

"Ah, you happen to be in the right house for that, Harry," Dan said with a smile. He disappeared for a moment, and then returned with a small, travel-size tube of toothpaste. "We actually have cases of these. We always carry a box of these around with us in the car when we go visit schools. I just happened to bring them inside recently since schools are on holiday, and since they don't like being left in a hot car all day. Anything else, Harry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Then I'll wish you good night," Dan said. "We have to go back to work tomorrow. Somehow I doubt you're an early morning person, so if not, we'll see you in the evening when we get back."

"Good night, and thanks," Harry said, holding up the toothpaste. As he headed back for his room, Hermione came up the stairs. As she passed him in the hall, she saw the toothpaste and smiled. She then went to her room.

Harry went over to his bed and sat down for a minute. As he began to relax, he quickly felt his tiredness begin to sneak up on him. Knowing he might fall asleep right there if he wasn't careful, he gathered his pajamas and toothbrush (and newly acquired toothpaste), and headed back to the bathroom.

Harry returned to his room several minutes later to find Crookshanks sitting on his bed, waiting for him to return. Harry sat down next to him; Crookshanks immediately began to purr has he had on top of the couch.

"Sorry Crookshanks," Harry apologized. "I don't have any more popcorn. Besides, I don't think Hermione would like it if I gave you any more tonight." The purring stopped.

Not to be complete denied, Crookshanks butted his head against Harry's arm. Harry looked down at the half-Kneazle and smiled. "Will you settle for a good scratching?" he asked.

Harry reached down and began to scratch Crookshanks' head. After finding a cozy spot, Crookshanks sat down to enjoy the pampering while it lasted. A few minutes later, Harry heard Hermione's voice coming down the hall towards his room.

"Harry, have you seen...? Oh, I see you have," she said, staring at the cat on the bed next to Harry. From the doorway, she watched the two of them. "I think you're in trouble, Harry," she warned. "Now he knows who will spoil him. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. You've just discovered the hard way that includes Crookshanks."

Hermione came over and sat down on the opposite side of Crookshanks. She began to scratch his back; Crookshanks looked to be in heaven, what with one person scratching his head and one his back. A few seconds later, Emma appeared at the door in her bathrobe.

"Don't be up all night, you two. Tomorrow is another day, and there are plenty more after that," she said with a smile. After Harry and Hermione wished her good night, Emma paused for a moment before leaving the room. She intentionally looked at Harry's wide-open bedroom door then stared pointedly at Hermione; Harry was quite sure that contained an unspoken conversation. Emma then smiled again at both of them and bid them good night.

For one of the first times in his life, Harry had no idea about what to say to Hermione. After a few awkward silent moments, they eventually settled upon discussing their favorite scenes from the movie. Several minutes into it, Harry yawned uncontrollably.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"That's OK," Hermione assured him. "You've had a long day. Surely you must be tired."

"I am," Harry agreed. Hermione was secretly disappointed by his response, though she gave no indication of it.

"Well, I'll head to bed then. Good night, Harry," Hermione said.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry returned.

Hermione stood and picked up Crookshanks (after unhooking Harry's blanket from his claws). When she got to the door, she reached for the light switch.

"Hermione?" Harry called, his voice as heavy as he could make it. He wanted to be sure she knew he was going to say something very important.

Hermione turned and looked back at Harry, looking very hopeful. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Don't call me Shirley."

Hermione's face lit up with a huge grin as she switched of the light.

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!

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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.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: Oops, I did it again... I got to page 22 of this chapter when I realized it needed to be split up, or else it would never get finished. Gee, that sounds familiar... So I found a decent splitting point somewhere in the middle. Because of that, Chapters 11 and 12 are more like two halves to one really long chapter rather than separate scenes. Chapter 12 will pick up literally where 11 left off. Just keep that in mind when this chapter ends rather suddenly. Fear not, however. Chapter 12 is more than half done! As Homer says... Woo-hoo!

Second but by no means lesser, thank you to my beta MapleMountain.

And finally, just a reminder... this is PG-13. I haven't done much to earn it (yet). But, sometimes "real life" is not rated G, though I promise we won't earn a pirate rating (Arrrrr.) Yes, that's my mature sense of humor showing itself. :-)

Chapter 11. The Weeks that Followed, Part Deux: O.W.L.s and Owls.

The next few days at Hermione's house each started much like his second. Sometimes, however, it was he who woke Hermione up with the smell of whatever he decided to make for breakfast (and sometimes they had cereal). They did their homework, ate lunch, and then did some more homework; in the evenings after Dan and Emma came home they had dinner and then spent the evening together.

Sometimes they watched TV. The Summer Olympics had started the previous week, and since it was being hosted in the States in Atlanta, it promised to be highly televised (along with "a few words from our sponsors"). Other nights, they played games. Thursday night, Dan and Harry were knocked out of Monopoly within half an hour; Hermione and Emma battled on for another half hour until Emma finally won.

The tables were turned, however, the next game night when they played Risk. After Dan and Harry spent nearly two hours trying to take over the world, Harry was in pretty bad shape after what he thought was a bad strategic decision made in the beginning of the game. Things were looking pretty bleak, but after a series of bad rolls of the dice on Dan's part, Harry finally had been awarded enough armies to begin an unstoppable campaign from his obscure little corner of the map.

When he evaluated his position, Dan (whose armies were now thinly spread across the rest of the board) wisely conceded. This elicited a grateful sigh from Emma and Hermione, who had been unsuccessfully pretending to be interested in the outcome of each roll of the dice after being wiped out early on.

By lunchtime Friday, much to his surprise, Harry was finished with his homework. During lunch, Hermione had insisted to Harry that if he did anything while in the Muggle world, he had to watch all three Star Wars movies. People were more likely to believe he was a wizard than that he had no idea who Darth Vader was. That afternoon, they watched A New Hope ("Erm, Hermione, why does this start at number four?" Harry asked.)

Harry found that he and the Grangers were quickly settling into a routine. It was this daily routine that he found very comforting. It was simply life as normal (as he'd thought of it earlier when he first drove through Wandsworth). One of his favorite parts of that routine was his daily battle with Hermione over possession of their favorite seat on the sofa. Somehow, it always seemed to work out that Hermione won when they were doing their homework, and Harry won when watching TV.

Before Harry and Hermione knew it, the weekend was upon them. On Saturday, the four of them spent the morning and early afternoon in King George's Park which was right across the street from Broomhill Road. Even though he was nearly sixteen, Harry was having way too much fun in the park making up for all those lost years on Privet Drive.

There was a play park in Harry's neighborhood on Privet Drive, but his experiences there consisted mainly of running away from Dudley's gang or trying to find something they hadn't broken. He had been perfectly content playing on the equipment until Hermione decided she would instigate a game of Tag. Considering he was a Seeker, he was quite surprised at how hard it was to catch his prey with both feet on the ground and without a Firebolt, particularly when the prey had a mind of her own (and especially when said mind belonged to one Hermione Jane Granger).

Once the two of them were sufficiently tired from chasing each other around (Dan and Emma just took a leisurely walk around the park), they all walked back home, got cleaned up, and headed into town. After driving around for a while showing Harry all there was to see in Wandsworth, they stopped at the local Kwik-E-Burger for dinner, which Harry enjoyed just as much as all of his other dinners (he was beginning to suspect that cardboard would taste good as long as he had the right company). After dinner, they returned home and watched The Empire Strikes Back. (When Darth Vader revealed his true identity, "I am your father," Harry actually gasped.)

After the movie, Harry returned to his room to find that Pig had been by to deliver a letter from Ron. Hedwig's disgruntled appearance, as well as the splashed water from Hedwig's dish confirmed Pig's presence. Ron updated Harry on news from the Percy front. He told him all about the pranks Fred and George had pulled on Percy. Charlie had been spending most of his time refereeing between Percy and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, while Bill had been spending an increasing amount of time with his now official girlfriend Fleur Delacour.

Ron mentioned that Percy and his parents had a major blow up. Even Ron didn't recognize some of the words exchanged. But afterwards something changed, for they were now at least listening to each other, even though they weren't agreeing. Before, it was like each side was talking to a wall.

To Harry's (pleasant) surprise, Ron again mentioned Luna's letter. Granted it was mostly Ron repeating what was in her letter, and him asking if Harry though Luna as unusual as he did. It seemed however that Hermione may have been right about what Luna was doing. While by no means did Ron at all seem interested in her, she was at least on his mind.

After a late breakfast on Sunday, they drove into London for some sightseeing and shopping. They spent half the day visiting the local tourist destinations (Harry was a tourist for all intents and purposes), and the other half at one of Emma's favorite stores: Harrods. Afterwards, they had dinner at a very nice Italian restaurant, La Volpe e l'Uva. They returned home in time for Harry to complete the trilogy with Return of the Jedi. (Ewww! You kissed your sister! That certainly had an impact on Harry after a certain discussion earlier in the week.)

On Monday, with his homework finished the previous Friday, Harry enjoyed his first weekday free. He had to admit... there was a certain dangerous thrill involved in procrastinating as long as possible. But, now that it was actually done, it was a far better feeling to know that he was finished. That nagging sense of guilt he felt in the back of his mind while wasting time doing something else was completely absent. Harry decided to celebrate that feeling by sending Ron a letter.

Ron,

How's life in that grim old place? Sounds pretty exciting.

Maybe I can stop by and visit sometime. Our O.W.L.s should be arriving soon, so I imagine we'll all have to go shopping for books and stuff. Maybe we can meet up then.

I really hope things work out with Percy. I know a lot happened between you, but he's still your brother, even if he is a Humongous Bighead.

Harry stopped writing for a minute. What would he say about Luna? Harry really didn't want to be playing matchmaker. He'd seen Lavender and Parvati doing that enough, thank you very much. But he couldn't just ignore it; Ron had mentioned it again, so Harry assumed he wanted to talk about it, in some way or another. What would he do in Ron's place?

Luna sent me a letter too. She pretty much just said the same things you did in your letter a couple weeks ago... but just in her own way. I sent her a thank you letter too.

You know, you should also send her a letter, just to be nice. Just thank her for her letter, ask her how her trip was. You know, the same things you'd say if you were talking to her in person. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? She'll tell you all about the Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks.

I'll send you an owl once I get my O.W.L.s so we can make plans.

Oh, and in case you were wondering... Yes, my homework is done. And, yes, I DID do it by myself, though I did check to make sure everything was correct before finishing.

Thanks,

Harry

Satisfied that he had said what he wanted to for now, he gave the letter to Hedwig and sent her on her way to Ron.

During lunch that day, Hermione brought up a subject that Harry had actually managed to forget about.

"So, Harry. I couldn't help but notice that it's your birthday this Thursday," she said, trying to look disinterested as she poked at her leftovers from the Italian restaurant.

Harry set down his fork containing the last bite of his. "It is, isn't it?" Harry responded, surprised. Time had flown by in his exile on Privet Drive, and even more so here on Broomhill Road.

"Did you have any idea what you wanted to do for it? It is Sweet Sixteen, you know," she said with a look and a tone of voice that implied something about sixteen was special. If he had had normal birthdays for most of his life, maybe he'd understand it too.

"I had actually forgotten about it, to be honest. I've had more important things on my mind lately. You know, like getting to the sofa first," he added with a wink. Hermione had said several times that she didn't care where she sat. Everyday, however, she tried just as hard as Harry did to get to that coveted seat first.

"But," Harry added after thinking for a few moments, "I think I would just like a small party. I suppose that we'd have to have it at Sirius's house if everyone's going to be there." Harry paused for a few moments.

"I think that'll be OK, as long as it's only for a while. Besides, if there's a party, it shouldn't be so bad," Harry finally decided. "Oh, and if he doesn't already have any plans, I'd really like it if we could have a combined party for Neville's birthday too. It's on Wednesday."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Hermione said, slightly surprised. Harry felt this would've been a perfect moment to tease her about not knowing something, but then he realized that he wouldn't have known either if Professor Dumbledore hadn't told him. He didn't want to have to explain that he learned about Neville's birthday when he and the Headmaster discussed the prophecy.

The prophecy. Harry still hadn't told Hermione or Ron anyone else about it. Ron was easy: that just wasn't the sort of thing you told someone about in a letter. He had an easy excuse to delay that. But what about Hermione? He saw her everyday and still hadn't told her.

Ever since they became best friends after the troll incident in first year, Harry felt he could talk to Hermione about anything. Sure, there were things he didn't want to talk to her about (like Cho, or his "detentions" with Umbridge), but he knew he could, if he needed to. He always could. Well, except maybe during the whole Firebolt episode third year. Then again, that did actually helped solidify his trust in her afterwards when he found out that she was right, that Sirius did send him the broom (even though she was wrong about his motives).

So, should he tell her about the prophecy? Could he? Would he? He had always been pretty sure that she would be there to listen if he needed her to. Now, after this last week, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she would. The question was did he want her to know about it? Would that change things between them? Would that put her in danger knowing?

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), he was spared from having to answer those questions because Hermione was still waiting for him to answer her question about his birthday party.

"Yeah, Professor Dumbledore mentioned it to me once." Harry suddenly mentally kicked himself for that, though he tried not to show it. Didn't I just decide NOT to talk about that? Luckily for him, Hermione accepted his answer without question.

"So, you said small. Have you given any thought to who you want there?" she asked.

"Well..." Harry pondered for a moment, the wheels of his mind turning. "Neville obviously. Ron and his family of course, Percy too if they've worked things out... not, if they haven't. And Luna, of course." Harry paused for a moment. "If Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall wanted to come, that would be OK too. And Professor Lupin and Tonks, also. Hagrid. I can't forget Hagrid."

Harry stopped and thought again for a few seconds. "That's about everyone, I think. I really don't want the whole school invited. Especially if we're going to have to do this at Sirius's house. There certainly isn't room for that. Right now, just the people who are important to me," Harry said emphatically.

Harry noticed a look of feigned annoyance on Hermione's face. "Is that everyone? You're not forgetting anyone, are you?" she asked suggestively.

Harry again thought about it for a few seconds. "No, I'm pretty sure that's everyone. Why, do you think I'm forgetting anyone?" he asked. This was a lot harder that he expected.

Hermione started at him expectantly.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Did you want to come too? You're welcome also, if you want." Harry finally said. Truth be told, hers was actually the first name to pop into his mind when she asked who he wanted at his party. He did say "we" several times, didn't he? The way she had asked though just seemed too good of an opportunity to be missed. It had taken everything he had to not start laughing as soon as he finished his list of "approved" guests.

He fought as hard as he could, but finally Harry's control failed and he began to laugh out loud. As Hermione continued to glare disapprovingly at him, she too eventually began to grin as the sight of Harry laughing began to look funny. Finally, her resolve broke as well and she joined him in laughter.

As is often the case, the laughter actually grew instead of diminishing as the seconds passed. With both of them laughing, they quickly reached the point where they were simply laughing at each other's laughter. Harry, who had started first, was definitely worse off. Tears were streaming and his face began to turn red.

Finally, his lungs reached their limit. Desperate for a much needed fix of oxygen, they spasmed suddenly, drawing in a large volume of air, and also causing Harry to snort loudly. This sent Hermione over the edge; she spread her arms out on the table and buried her face in them to laugh even harder. In the process, she knocked over her glass of milk.

Harry and Hermione were laughing so hard that neither of them noticed it until she let out a surprised squeak as the spreading spill finally reached the edge of the table, where it began to soak into her shirt.

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed between laughs, which were now subsiding.

The sustaining fuel of Hermione's laughter now gone, Harry began to stop, finally and properly catching his breath. Hermione jumped up and rushed over to cabinet under which the paper towel holder was mounted. Tearing off several sheets, she tried to blot up as much as she could from the fabric. Harry grabbed the dish towel from the refrigerator door handle and began to clean up the mess.

After cleaning up the floor and the chair, Harry set the towel on the small puddle on the table. Looking at it, he suddenly began to laugh again.

"Well, I guess there's no point in crying over spilt milk," he said with an idiot-grin on his face. Hermione, though not at all happy with the large wet spot on the front of her blue shirt, could not help but laugh as well.

"Oh Harry, that was absolutely awful!" she finally said once she stopped laughing.

"Yeah, I know, but you still laughed," he replied.

"Git," she retorted. Since they were both pretty much done with their lunches anyway, they finished cleaning up the table and then washed their dishes rather than leave them sit for a week (they had finally filled the dishwasher after brunch yesterday; Emma let Harry put the soap in and push the start button as promised).

After lunch, Harry decided he would go and watch some television. Hermione went upstairs to change and then fetch her Numerology book. This should be fun, Harry anticipated. I'm watching TV and she's reading. What's she going to do to get back her seat?

Harry walked over to the coffee table and started looking through the listings to see what was on. He had heard several of his Muggle-born classmates mention daytime "talk" shows. The way he heard it, they were supposed to be pretty interesting, and sometimes unpredictable. After scanning through the listings for a minute or so, he found one that had started only a few minutes ago. He picked up the remote, turned on the television, and switched to the right channel.

Right as his backside was about to hit the seat cushion, Harry heard a shriek coming from Hermione's room. By the time he heard her calling out his name, he had already leapt up, vaulted over the coffee table, and was half way up the stairs with his wand drawn.

As he raced down the hall, he saw that her door was closed; he didn't want to waste any time with the doorknob in case it had been locked by a spell. As soon as he was close enough, he kicked in the door and burst into Hermione's room, ready to stun or kill whatever had caused her to scream.

What he found was Hermione standing next to her bed, looking towards his right, clad in naught from the waist up. The shirt she had been wearing (along with her... intimates) was lying on the bed, next to a clean set. Though Harry didn't actually see anything, the unexpected sight of so much exposed skin effectively wiped all conscious thought from his mind. He had to concentrate for a moment to remember why he had barged in there in the first place.

After a half-second or so, his mind clicked back into gear and he turned on his heel to confront the threat. There, standing on Hermione's desk, was a beautiful snowy owl (that was not Hedwig). Attached to its leg was an envelope, tied with a red ribbon. Harry was now officially confused.

"What?" he asked Hermione, still on defense watching the owl.

"It's... it's our O.W.L.s," she said breathlessly, staring at the owl on her desk.

Now that he actually looked at her face, he realized that she must have shrieked in excitement, not fear. That also explained why he ended up not seeing a side of his best friend he had never seen before. In her excitement, she had clasped her hands together and brought them up to her chest, her arms effectively covering all of the entirely unfamiliar parts in the process. Harry also realized that her level of clothing had not changed in the last three seconds. He looked down at his feet; it was the only place he trusted himself to look.

"I'll... ah... OK then... I'll just be in my room if you need me."

Putting his wand back in his pocket, he quickly turned to go back into the hall. As he spun around and headed out the now broken door, he heard behind him a shocked "Oh my God!" Hermione must have just now realized her state of (un)dress.

On his way back to his room, Harry was struck by a sudden thought. Sure enough, upon entering his room he found another large, majestic snowy owl on his dresser. This owl, mostly white like Hermione's, must not have been quite as well behaved as hers for it had its head in Hedwig's cage, trying to get at her food dish.

"Hey! Get out of there," he scolded the bird. Harry went over to the dresser, retrieved a few treats from the drawer, and gave them to the owl as he untied his letter. After finishing its snack, the beautiful creature took flight and headed out the window. Harry sat down on his bed and looked at the envelope in his hands. This was it.

Harry stared at his name written on the envelope. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see his results or not. He knew he had to; they would determine whether he could go on to become an Auror. But did he really want to read them? He sat there for another minute simply looking at parchment of the envelope, almost as if he hoped he could somehow absorb the information inside without actually reading it. Twice he started to open the envelope, but each time he stopped himself.

Fortunately, to his great relief, Hermione (now fully clothed) came into his room, carrying her unopened envelope in her hand. The owl that delivered it hadn't left yet; it was perched precariously on her shoulder (it was obvious to Harry that she wasn't accustomed to having an owl sitting there).

"It won't leave," Hermione explained after seeing Harry stand up and look curiously at the owl.

"Well?" both asked each other simultaneously.

"I haven't opened it yet," they again overlapped.

After a shared laugh, both Harry and Hermione stared nervously at the envelopes in their hands. Neither seemed able to open them; they looked pleadingly at each other. A moment later, they exchanged envelopes. Harry opened Hermione's letter; Hermione opened Harry's.

Harry unfolded the piece of parchment and began to read.

Wizarding Examinations Authority

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione Jane Granger

Your Ordinary Wizarding Level results are as follows:

Ancient Runes	O	(9.7/10.0)
Arithmancy	O	(10.0/10.0)
Astronomy	O	(9.8/10.0)
Care of Magical Creatures	O	(10.0/10.0)
Charms	O	(10.0/10.0)
Defense Against the Dark Arts	E	(9.0/10.0)
Herbology	O	(9.9/10.0)
History of Magic	O	(9.9/10.0)
Muggle Studies	O	(10.0/10.0)
Potions	O	(10.0/10.0)
Transfiguration	O	(10.0/10.0)

According to the information provided by your Head of House, your career plans are UNDECIDED. Your O.W.L. results permit you to take the necessary courses to pursue any field of study.

Your overall average O.W.L. score is 9.845. This is the highest overall score achieved in the last fifty-five years. Congratulations.

It is a long held custom for the Wizarding Examinations Authority to award an owl to the highest ranking student in his or her class. Please accept this owl as congratulations on your achievement.

A copy of your results has been forwarded to your Head of House, who will be in contact with you shortly regarding the selection of N.E.W.T. classes.

I wish you the best in your N.E.W.T. years.

Professor Griselda Marchbanks

Pass		Fail
Outstanding	10.0-9.1	Poor	7.0-6.1
Exceeds Expectations	9.0-8.1	Dreadful	6.0-5.1
Acceptable	8.0-7.1	Troll	5.0-0.0

"Oh," Harry said as he read about the owl.

"What?!" Hermione asked very anxiously, looking up from Harry's results.

"That explains the owl on your shoulder," Harry explained. Hermione was wearing a mixture of confusion and anticipation on her face. "Do you want me to explain it or do you just want to read it for yourself?" he asked.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll read it," she finally said, opening her eyes. Harry handed her the letter. She didn't take it. "Just tell me! How bad did I do?!"

Harry could not resist grinning. "Eleven out of eleven O.W.L.s! Best score in fifty-five years! AND you get to keep the owl," Harry exclaimed, nodding towards her shoulder. He was very happy for Hermione. At least he knew that one of them would pass.

Harry's stomach began to turn knots. "And mine?" he asked very hesitantly.

Hermione slowly looked down at his letter, and then fixed him with a very somber stare. Harry's heart sank.

"YOU DID IT!!" she shouted with glee. "Seven out of nine O.W.L.s. You passed everything you needed to! And don't you dare talk to me about your Defense score!" she warned him with a smile. They traded envelopes back. Harry began to read his own results.

Wizarding Examinations Authority

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry James Potter

Your Ordinary Wizarding Level results are as follows:

Astronomy	A	(7.8/10.0)
Care of Magical Creatures	E	(8.9/10.0)
Charms	E	(8.6/10.0)
Defense Against the Dark Arts	O	(10.8/10.0)
Divination	P	(6.1/10.0)
Herbology	E	(8.8/10.0)
History of Magic	D	(5.1/10.0)
Potions	E	(8.5/10.0)
Transfiguration	E	(8.9/10.0)

According to the information provided by your Head of House, your career plans are AUROR. Your O.W.L. results permit you to take the necessary courses to pursue this field of study.

Your overall average O.W.L. score is 8.167. Your score of 10.8 in Defense Against the Dark Arts is the first time in nearly 150 years that a student has earned more points than an O.W.L. exam is worth. Congratulations.

A copy of your results has been forwarded to your Head of House, who will be in contact with you shortly regarding the selection of N.E.W.T. classes.

I wish you the best in your N.E.W.T. years.

Professor Griselda Marchbanks

Pass		Fail
Outstanding	10.0-9.1	Poor	7.0-6.1
Exceeds Expectations	9.0-8.1	Dreadful	6.0-5.1
Acceptable	8.0-7.1	Troll	5.0-0.0

"How in the bloody hell did you get a 10.8, Harry?" Hermione asked sharply, though it was obvious she was very happy for him. It was strange to hear Hermione swear like that; he found it quite amusing actually (though he knew better than to show it).

"My examiner heard about my Patronus, from someone at my trial, I think. He gave me a bonus point for demonstrating it."

"Well," Hermione started very dramatically, "it is very unusual to award bonus points during testing. But," her face lightened, "if anyone deserves it, it's you. A Patronus is N.E.W.T. standard. Congratulations Harry!"

He had done it! The letter said he could be an Auror! As that fact began to sink in, he felt as though a great weight of uncertainty had been lifted off of his heart, one that he hadn't really noticed was there until now that it was gone. Finding himself quite overwhelmed by his sudden burst of happiness, he did the first thing that came into his mind: he rushed forward, gave Hermione a great big hug, kissed her on the cheek, and then hugged her again.

"Thank you," he told her. When he finally let go of her, he stepped back and looked at her; she was blushing furiously.

"For what?" she was barely able to ask.

"For being there. For helping me study, for yelling at me for not studying. For just being you. You know," he said nonchalantly, "pretty much everything that happened last year."

Hermione's tendency to be overwhelmed by such compliments seemed to return for she forced herself to look down at her shoes. After a moment, she seemed to collect herself and looked back up.

"Thank you, Harry. And you're welcome."

Now that everything had finally sunk in, Harry suddenly realized that he just kissed Hermione. It was now his turn to blush; his blush far surpassed hers in intensity.

"Oh... I'm... I just... It... And then..." Harry babbled, gesturing vaguely towards his letter and then her cheek. Hermione began to smile, though she pursed her lips together to try to hide it; she didn't succeed. Harry eventually stopped talking and took a deep, steadying breath, "Sorry about that," he eventually said guiltily. "I guess I just got carried away there for a second. I was just so happy..."

"So you snogged me?" she asked, finally abandoning her attempt to hide her amusement.

Harry turned red again. "Well, erm... No... It's just..." Another pause, another breath. "Yes?"

"Relax, Harry," Hermione told him, trying to reassure him. "I understand. It's OK. I was just kidding. Don't worry about it. You just got carried away. It was just an accident."

An accident, Harry suddenly thought to himself. He turned red, once again. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry about bursting in on you like that." Hermione now regained her own bright red hue. "I heard you scream," he tried to explain.

Feeling rather exposed (literally, in this case), Hermione again looked down at her feet for a moment before speaking again. "I had been facing away from my desk as I started to change my clothes. My shirt and... they both got wet," she explained, very embarrassed. "After setting them down, I turned and saw the owl in my mirror. I wasn't at all expecting it there. Seeing it like that so suddenly, it just scared the daylights out of me.

"As soon as I saw it (after I screamed), I just knew it was our O.W.L.s. I was so excited that I yelled to tell you they were here. I, ah, forgot what I was, or wasn't wearing at the time," Hermione said, blushing again.

After she finally regained her composure, Hermione began to look at Harry curiously. "Why did you kick in my door?" she asked

Feeling quite guilty, and embarrassed, for his sudden entrance, Harry stared at the owl on Hermione's shoulder as he talked. "I was sitting down on the couch when I heard you scream. As I ran down the hall, I saw your door was closed. I figured that if you were in trouble, your door would be charmed and the doorknob wouldn't be any help. So I just decided to kick it in as soon as I got to it," he admitted.

Hermione began to laugh; Harry wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. "Oh Harry. Don't you know that if my door had been sealed, you wouldn't have been able to kick it in?" she asked, fighting to stop her laughter.

"Erm, I forgot," he admitted sheepishly. "I really didn't think that far ahead."

"So... what do you think?" Hermione asked, looking at her new owl.

As Harry looked at it perched on Hermione's shoulder, he could not help but think how much it reminded him of when Hagrid had bought Hedwig for him. Hedwig was a little smaller back then (As was I...), just like this one. He seemed to recall that the black spotting pattern on her feathers was lighter when he got her, just as this one's was also.

He remembered the Eeylops clerk mentioning once when he stopped by to buy some owl treats that an owl's spot patterns were as unique as fingerprints. This owl of course had a different pattern than Hedwig, and also had a smaller number than she did. Harry smiled. He remembered how excited he was to get Hedwig. He was always very proud of her; a lot of students had commented over the years how much they liked her. And right now, Hermione seemed to be looking at her owl in just the same way.

Harry knew that Hedwig was still out delivering Ron's letter, but he still checked anyway, just to be sure, before answering. "She's very beautiful." He didn't want Hedwig to get jealous of another owl (let alone another snowy owl) in the house. As he began to consider this, his post-O.W.L. happiness began to be replaced by a Post Owl concern.

Would Hedwig and Hermione's yet-to-be-named owl get along? Harry knew that Hedwig didn't seem to like Pigwidgeon all that much (more like barely tolerated his existence). And she wasn't at all impressed by the flashy tropical bird that had once delivered a letter from Sirius. Hedwig seemed to be a very proud, very independent owl. How would it be with another owl right next door, literally?

Fortunately, as his concerns began to grow, he immediately thought of a way to express it that he knew Hermione would understand (and appreciate).

"I have a bad feeling about this," he admitted (Hermione smiled slightly). "What if they don't get along? I've heard that snowy owls are very territorial. Do you think it will be OK for them to be in the same house?"

Recognizing that Harry was genuinely concerned, Hermione did her best to alleviate his fears. "It'll be OK, Harry. You have to remember that these are Wizarding Post Owls. They aren't wild owls. Not only are they magical creatures, but over generations, they've had most of their natural instincts bred out of them.

"For example, most owls are nocturnal, and generally quite unremarkable in intelligence according to the Muggle experts. As you know though, post owls sleep the same hours as we do (besides the naps) and I don't have to tell you how smart Hedwig is. Furthermore, haven't you ever noticed that all the school owls don't disappear for a couple months during spring to find mates? They've been bred in captivity for centuries, raised by wizards, and of course are affected by magic. These aren't 'natural' owls."

Now that Harry thought about it, he suddenly realized that one could argue that post owls were no better off than house-elves. As he saw it however, there were several important differences. Fearing the creation of S.P.O.W., Harry tried to convey his thoughts to Hermione.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, they really aren't what you'd call wild animals. It's a good thing people treat them like beloved pets instead of lowly servants. We're so dependent on them to deliver messages. Where would the wizarding world be if they were treated like house-elves? They could all just up and fly away if we treated them badly." Harry hoped Hermione wouldn't analyze that too closely. He knew it was a bit of an exaggeration; the Ministry had figured out how to live without owls out of a practical necessity.

Fortunately with the invoking of her favorite cause, Hermione seemed to simply accept it and agree. "Yeah that's true. And back to your concern about being territorial, it shouldn't be a problem. Remember that all of the school's and students' owls live together in the Owlery. They all get along fine. I think Hedwig and, hmmm, I need to find you a name," she said to her new owl. "They'll be fine here for the next month or so. They're smart enough to know that they need to get along."

Harry nodded his head; He really liked Hedwig, and he hoped Hermione would really like her new owl.

"Speaking of things going wrong," Hermione suddenly exclaimed, "I don't have anything for an owl, other than a few treats. What do I need? I know I need a cage for her. Oh, does it have to be a magical cage or will a regular one work? We could pick up some stuff for her at the pet store, if it doesn't have to be magical. Is there anything else? Oh, this is so exciting!" she exclaimed, again clasping her hands together and holding them up to her chest in a way that Harry would never forget.

Having an owl was now second nature to Harry; he had to stop and think about it for a second. "Well, you'll need a cage, some newspapers to line it, food, and water. That's about it. I don't know about the cage. Hedwig came from Eeylops with her cage," Harry remembered. "Maybe you could 'break her in' and ask Hagrid. You'll need to clean her cage on a regular basis and let her out to hunt. I know Hedwig likes a little variety, frogs, mice, and the like. At least there's a big park at the end of the street. I still don't know where Hedwig went hunting back on Privet Drive."

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall. I need to ask her some other stuff anyway. I'm sure she would know. The Transfiguration Department has a whole collection of animals they use for classes. Here Harry, would you take her for a minute while I go write a letter?"

Harry went over to his closet and put on his jacket. He then held out his arm like a perch, onto which the new owl flew. "Talons and long sleeves," Harry explained. Hermione sat down at Harry's desk, grabbed a blank sheet of parchment, and started writing a letter to Professor McGonagall.

After about a minute, Harry realized that Hermione was probably asking a few N.E.W.T.-related questions, so he coaxed the owl onto his shoulder (his arm was quickly getting tired) and carefully sat down on his bed. Several minutes later, she finished her letter. As Hermione walked towards the two of them, she smiled slightly. "Sitting on your shoulder like that, she really does remind me of Hedwig the first time I saw her." She then rolled up the letter and tied it her owl's leg.

"I would like you to take this to Professor Minerva McGonagall. She's probably at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I don't know for sure." The owl blinked twice and hooted softly. Both Harry and Hermione hoped that indicated understanding; every owl was different, after all. After taking flight, Hermione went to the window to watch her new owl fly off.

"You know, I really need to find her a name," Hermione said. "I hate to keep calling her 'girl' or 'her,' simply because I don't have a name yet. And 'it' is just plain rude. How did you name Hedwig?" she asked Harry.

"It was just a name I found in one of my magic history books that I liked. It's as simple as that. It doesn't have to have any secret meaning, you know. Just as long as it's something that you like."

"So, if I named her Cho, would that be OK?" Hermione asked, a teasing grin on her face.

Harry gave Hermione the best eye roll he could. "If you did that, I'd probably have to move out," Harry said, returning the grin.

"OK, 'Cho' is definitely off the list."

With both of their owls gone, Harry and Hermione turned their attention from their owls to their O.W.L.s. Both began to examine them more closely.

"An 'E'? I got an 'E' in Potions. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I thought Professor McGonagall told me that I had to get an 'O' in Potions to get into the N.E.W.T. class," Harry said out loud, more to himself than to Hermione.

"Yeah, that's what she told me too. Does it matter?" Hermione asked. "I mean, sure, it would have been nice if you had gotten an 'O', but still, 'E' means 'Exceeds Expectations.' It's still a very good grade. Besides, maybe Professor Snape was so impressed by your 'E' that he decided to let you in anyway."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other seriously for a second.

"OK, maybe not," she said with a grin. "But still, the letter says you can take the class, so don't worry about it. Believe me, you'll have plenty of time to worry about it once we get our homework assignments." Harry shuddered. Oh, it was nice to be homework free for a while. But soon he would get his first N.E.W.T. homework assignment, and then once that was done, he had two more years of Potions to look forward to.

"Yay," Harry said unenthusiastically.

Hermione heard the sarcasm in his voice and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "That's the spirit, Harry!" she exhorted, though she knew Harry felt otherwise. "Come on, the letter said you can be an Auror. That's what you wanted, right? Don't worry about the rest. I mean, you collapsed during your History test, so that grade doesn't really reflect anything, and we all know how useful Trelawney's classes were."

Harry smiled a little. "You're right, of course. Thanks. What about you? Eleven O.W.L.s. Not too shabby if you ask me."

"They took off a whole point in Defense," Hermione said unhappily. "I completely failed the boggart, again! I'm pretty sure about everything else on the test. I just knew it when the examiner started writing afterwards."

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. "Didn't you have the same problem for Professor Lupin's test?" he asked gently.

"I remembered what happened last time, so I thought I was ready for it this time. But the boggart was different this time. I wasn't expecting it. And of course the examiner didn't tell me it was a boggart beforehand." Hermione stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. From the look on Harry's face, it was obvious he was waiting for her to continue.

"I was in the middle of my test, when all of the sudden Professor Dumbledore walked into the room," Hermione began to explain. "He said that there had been an attack and that... that I needed to go to the Hospital Wing immediately. My heart just sank. For him to interrupt a test, I knew it had to be bad. It was my worst fear come true." She paused again for another shaky-sounding breath. For a second, Harry thought he saw her eyes moisten slightly as she relived what had happened, but she turned away from him before he could be sure. She then continued her story as she stared off into space.

"As I ran to the door, the examiner called out to me. I glanced back just in time to see him point his wand at the Headmaster and shout 'Riddikulus!' I knew I had just failed that part of the test," Hermione said, resigned.

After thinking for a moment, Harry came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. "You know, someone a lot smarter than me once told me that what's in the past is in the past and all we can do is learn from it so we can know how to deal with today and tomorrow."

A small smile began to break through the look of defeat on Hermione's face as she turned around to face Harry. "It sounds like this person knows a thing or two."

"A thing or two," Harry agreed, smiling. "She's the smartest person I know. Sometimes I think I would be lost without her." As he watched a smile replace the disappointment on Hermione's face, Harry realized he still had his hand on her shoulder. He quickly removed it and returned his attention to his O.W.L. results.

"So," he started after clearing his throat twice, "Professor McGonagall will be owling us with class selections, I suppose?"

"Yeah, even though you already know that you can take the classes needed for the Auror program, you'll still have a couple holes in your schedule," Hermione explained. "I'm sure she'll send us a listing of classes we can sign up for. I had a few other questions for her also."

"One or two?" Harry asked knowingly.

"One or two," Hermione responded with a slightly guilty look.

"So," Harry asked casually, "what are we going to do about, hem hem, your door?" Harry tried to put on the most innocent expression he could muster.

"Well, you certainly gave it a good kick, I'll grant you that," Hermione said after a slight chuckle. "If only I were a few months older, I could take care of it myself. We'll have to get it fixed. I doubt we have all the parts we need, so Dad'll probably have to go buy it.”

"I'll let you tell the story," Harry quickly volunteered. "Speaking of which, is there a garden center or nursery around here? I was thinking about something I could get Neville for his birthday."

"Well, the home improvement center has a garden center. If you don't see anything you like there, London's not that far away. I'm sure there're plenty of places around to find whatever you want. Do you know what you want to get him?" Hermione asked.

"Not exactly," Harry admitted. "Just some kind of Muggle plant, something exotic if I can find one. Anything really, as long as it doesn't squirt Stinksap," Harry said with a laugh as he recalled his first encounter with Neville's prized plant.

"Well, I'm going to start going through some of my books and see if I can find a name I like for my new owl," Hermione said, finishing in a sing-song voice. After she returned to her room, Harry looked at his O.W.L.s one last time, just to make sure it was still true. He had passed. He could continue in his plans to become an Auror.

Tucking his letter into the desk drawer where he had put all of the thank you letters from his friends and their families, Harry turned around and gave a quick glance at Hedwig's empty cage.

"Good luck girl," Harry said to the empty cage. "I hope you get along. I'd hate it if we had to leave if you didn't," Harry said sadly.

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Coming soon to a monitor near you!

Chapter 12. The Weeks that Followed 3: The Quidditch Captain (and an owl) is Named.

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A/N again... In case anyone was wondering, La Volpe e l'Uva is a real Italian restaurant, it's just not in London... it's in Italy. It's one of the favorite restaurants of my friend Petronilla. Thanks so much for letting me include it in my story.

Do I really believe that Hermione would watch the Star Wars movies? She reminds me so much of myself at her age (minus the magic, of course), so yes, I do believe she would like Star Wars. She's only about a year younger than I am (in 2005) so the timeline works out just fine too...

Hey MapleMountain! Thanks for the Risk addition. It was fun to imagine the women sitting there pretending to actually care! Ha ha!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: OK, finally. Sorry it took so long. I could have split this chapter also, like I already did twice before but I really wanted Harry's birthday to be Chapter 13. So, at least you'll get a nice long chapter out of this one: twenty pages... yikes! I expect we should be back to regular lengths next chapter. Of course, now that I've just said that, I'm sure it just became one page longer... Better stop while I'm ahead.

You may notice that I borrowed a certain scene from a certain book, though I fixed it so that it was actually believable... heh heh...

And finally (yes, finally). There are some song lyrics in this chapter. I wouldn't call it a songfic... just a fic with a song. I put the credits at the bottom to give you a chance to recognize it first.

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Chapter 12. The Weeks that Followed, Episode III: The Quidditch Captain is Named.

"Well, I'm going to start going through some of my books and see if I can find a name I like for my new owl," Hermione said, finishing in a sing-song voice. After she returned to her room, Harry looked at his O.W.L.s one last time, just to make sure it was still true. He had passed. He could continue in his plans to become an Auror.

Tucking his letter into the desk drawer where he had put all of the thank you letters from his friends and their families, Harry turned around and gave a quick glance at Hedwig's empty cage.

"Good luck girl," Harry said to the empty cage. "I hope you get along. I'd hate it if we had to leave if you didn't," Harry said sadly.

Feeling better now that he knew he had passed his O.W.L.s (Well, at least the ones I needed to, as Hermione said, he thought to himself), Harry decided he would return downstairs. The talk show was still there waiting for him.

As he walked down the stairs, he could not help but grin broadly; Hermione had beat him downstairs and once again reclaimed her favorite seat. Harry settled in the loveseat and began to learn about the fascinating world of married men who cheat with their best mate's sisters. He turned the TV off after about a minute and went and got one of his school books to read. Anything was better than watching that.

Several hours, and many thick, heavy books later, Hermione had finally chosen a name for her new owl. As she searched, she had created a list of a dozen or so possibilities. Slowly crossing them off one by one, she was finally left with one. Turning to Harry with an excited look on her face, she held up the piece of parchment in her hand and showed it to him. He couldn't read it at the angle she was holding it.

"Metis," she proudly announced.

Harry smiled slightly. "Let me guess. The god of knowledge, or something like that, right?" A surprised Hermione looked down at the sheet of parchment and then back up at Harry.

"Greek, actually," she clarified, still looking very proud (though for some reason he wasn't sure if it was from the name or his guess). "A minor Greek deity, the goddess of wisdom and prudence." Harry smiled; it was the perfect name for an owl belonging to her. Hermione huffed. "First wife of Zeus and mother of Athena... and they call her a 'minor deity...'"

Hermione then turned back to Harry. "So, what do you think?" she asked eagerly.

Harry thought about it for a moment. It certainly wasn't a name he would have chosen for his own owl. But that was the point: Metis was Hermione's owl, not his. She seemed very happy with the name. As far as Harry was concerned, that was all he cared about.

"I think it's perfect," he said honestly.

"Really? Oh thank you, Harry. I'm glad you like it," Hermione said very excitedly. "I've always wanted an owl, but I never got one since I knew I wouldn't be able to take it with me. I can only bring one animal to school, and I could never leave Crookshanks at home," she said with a slightly disappointed look.

Her face then brightened. "But this will be perfect! I can take Crookshanks to school with me and leave Metis at home. That way, Mum and Dad will be able to write me whenever they want to. I know they'll just love her."

"OH!" Hermione gasped. "That just gave me a great idea on how to tell them about her." She stopped for a moment, obviously planning something before continuing. "Anyway, the first time I wrote them with Hedwig, they mentioned how impressed they were by her. They were used to school owls by then, but seeing her fly in majestically, they said it was just different somehow." Hermione appeared quite breathless when she paused for a moment.

Harry suddenly remembered the owl that delivered his results. "Hermione? The owl that delivered my results was a snowy also. In the last five years at Hogwarts, I've seen very few snowy owls. I've seen three today. Hedwig, Metis, and the one that delivered mine. Is there anything special about them?"

"No... and yes," Hermione replied unhelpfully. "No, in the sense that they're simply uncommon in this part of the world. They usually live in a much colder climate. Yes, in the sense that the Wizarding Examinations Authority has a whole parliament of snowy owls to make deliveries. They use them to create an image of impartiality, kind of like how Muggle judges usually wear black."

Hermione then gave Harry a critical look. "Though I suppose I should question that impartiality, what with some students getting 10.8s and all." Harry knew there was a smile lurking beneath.

"Yeah," Harry retorted, grinning, "well, when they put you on trial, I'll be sure to mention your Protean Charm, OK?"

"Thanks," Hermione said unenthusiastically, to which Harry gave her his best imitation of an Umbridge grin. "As for not seeing many of them, it's not surprising really. At most, there'd be two at school: one each for a sixth and seventh year student. And that's assuming they both weren't already bringing another animal. I'll have one, and I'll be leaving her at home," she explained.

"Oh, that makes sense," Harry agreed. "So, what's this plan of yours?" After Hermione explained it, they both agreed to not mention their O.W.L.s if possible until Metis returned. They hoped that would be tonight or tomorrow, since Hermione still needed to know what kind of cage to get.

That evening, Dan and Emma came downstairs after changing clothes. They both looked slightly uneasy. Dan remained standing at the foot of the stairs, his arms folded; Emma sat down next to Harry.

"So," Dan started uncertainly, "not that I'm jumping to any conclusions, but does anyone want to tell me what happened today upstairs?" he asked seriously.

Harry and Hermione immediately looked at each other, blushing slightly as they remembered everything that happened. Fortunately, even if they omitted a certain part of the story, it was still embarrassing enough that the blushes were justifiable.

Several minutes later, Hermione had finished recounting the memorable events, omitting the parts about Metis and the state in which Harry found her. Dan and Emma looked very relieved; Dan was close to laughing as he imagined Harry kicking in the door (now it seemed funny). After Emma eagerly asked them to bring their O.W.L. results down so she and Dan could "share in their accomplishment," Harry and Hermione started to head upstairs.

As Harry walked by him, Dan suddenly put his hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him. The mirth from only a moment ago had evaporated; Harry could see that there was something else in his eyes. He couldn't tell what it was, whether it was fear or concern or worry. Whatever it was, it was something that certainly wasn't happy. Dan gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"Like I said, sometimes trouble comes looking for you," Dan said unevenly. For some reason, Harry could tell that he wanted to say "Thank you" but just couldn't. Harry nodded a silent "You're welcome." With that, Dan nodded back and then slapped Harry on the back a few times, the last one pushing him up the stairs to fetch his O.W.L. results.

After passing their letters around twice, Emma finally asked about the owl mentioned in Hermione's letter. Harry was impressed with how easily Hermione shrugged it off, saying that she didn't bring it down with her and that she would show them later (which was true), as if it were something like her prefect's badge.

After dinner, Dan and Emma, tired after a long day of surgeries, tried to relax a little by stretching out on the sofa, each on one end; Harry and Hermione shared the love seat. The four of them spent the rest of the evening sharing their proudest moments from their academic careers (as well as some not so proud): Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts, Dan and Emma at their schools and universities.

Metis returned from Professor McGonagall the following morning. She had sent a very short reply saying that it would be more efficient for her to visit in person, due to the number of questions Hermione had asked, as well as the fact that final class selections still needed be made. She also evidently wanted to speak to each of them about "additional matters."

As promised, Professor McGonagall arrived that afternoon at precisely 1:00, though in a manner neither Harry nor Hermione were expecting; she knocked on the front door. As they opened the door, they were greeted with a most unusual sight: Professor McGonagall dressed sharply in a woman's business suit. Behind her in a chauffeur's uniform was Nymphadora Tonks. Her hair was jet black underneath her driving cap; Harry almost didn't recognize her. Parked in the Grangers' drive was what Harry recognized as a Ministry car.

After letting them in, a series of greeting handshakes went around.

"Miss Granger, Mister Potter. It is nice to see you again," their Head of House greeted them in as warm a voice as either of them could remember hearing her use.

"Wotcher Harry, Hermione! I agree. It's great seeing you two again," Tonks concurred. "You're both looking well," she said, allowing her gaze to linger on Harry a little longer than she did with Hermione. "I hope your holidays have gone smoothly."

"I had a slow start," Harry admitted after Hermione nodded in reply to Tonks, "but, as the song goes, I got by with a little help from my friends." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione smile shyly and look down at the floor. Tonks and Professor McGonagall looked at Harry confused. "It's a Muggle song. I saw it on the telly the other day."

"Well Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall started sharply, "I do hope you haven't spent all of your time in front of, what do they call it, the 'moron box'?" she finished with a neutral face. In her case, that probably meant she was slightly amused.

"'Idiot box,'" Hermione corrected her. "And you'll be happy to know that Harry and I both finished our homework last week."

"Indeed?" Professor McGonagall responded, surprised. Harry saw Tonks behind her with an exaggerated look of shock on her face. "Well, then you'll both be happy to know that you'll soon have more homework to occupy your time. You are moving into your N.E.W.T. years, after all."

"Yes, we know," Hermione quickly replied. To Harry's surprise however, it seemed to lack the enthusiasm he normally heard in her voice when she talked about homework. Maybe she enjoyed homework-free time too.

"So Tonks, to what do we owe the honor?" Harry asked.

"Ah. Today, I'm just a driver," Tonks replied modestly. "Well, maybe a little more than just a driver," she said winking as she pulled the handle of her wand out of her uniform pocket enough for Harry to see, then re-pocketing it.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Tonks," Professor McGonagall called, "please excuse us while I attempt to address all of Miss Granger's inquires." She and Hermione then went upstairs, closing the door behind them (well, as much as it would since the latch was still broken).

"So Harry, how's your summer been? Really?" Tonks asked quietly now that they were alone. Harry realized that this summer must have been difficult for her as well; she was Sirius's cousin, after all. Harry sighed and sat down on the sofa.

"Honestly? It was horrible the first few weeks," Harry conceded. "But then, as I mentioned, someone helped me, and it's been better since then. 'Life goes on,' they told me afterwards. I still miss Sirius a lot, but he's gone now. I can't change that. All I can do is go forward. I've been doing my best to live again." He paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

"How are you doing?" he asked her.

Tonks looked down at her feet. "Better now," she said. "Not so much earlier," she said sadly. "He was my favorite cousin when I was growing up, you know. I was only about seven when he went to Azkaban, but I still remember how kind he had been to me." Tonks stopped for a moment to enjoy a fond memory.

"It sounds like you had a slightly better time of it than I did," she continued, sounding slightly envious. "Old Rufie dragged me down to the healers at St. Mungo's. They wouldn't let me leave until I had 'come to terms' with what had happened. Everyone there wanted to talk to me about it, but no one wanted to talk with me."

Tonks chuckled sarcastically. "It took a while," she said as she looked around the Grangers' living room. "Remus has been helping me a lot." A slight smile played across her face as she mentioned his name, while at the same time inspecting the television remote.

Harry suddenly remembered what Hermione had told him about Professor Lupin moving out of Grimmauld Place when Percy came back. It wasn't possible, was it?

"So, where is Moony living now?" Harry asked with a slight grin on his face. "I heard he moved out when Percy came back."

"Oh, he's in a flat in my building," Tonks answered easily. Harry smiled; how long had it been since his former professor had a real job, and therefore rent money?

"I see, and what's the going rate for a flat these days?" Harry asked with a weighted voice.

Tonks eyed Harry suspiciously, and then turned slightly pink. "OK, fine! He moved in with me! But don't get any ideas mister! It's not what you think! He's sleeping on the sofa!" she defended. "We've just been talking, sharing stories about Sirius. It was hard for him too." She still seemed a little embarrassed though. Remus may have been on the sofa, but Harry suspected there might be a little more than what Tonks was saying, at least from her side. Harry smiled and nodded.

"It's a good thing they've got you holed up in some undisclosed location, Harry," Tonks quipped, still a little defensive. "Can you imagine the headlines if they had put you in some interesting living arrangement?"

Thank God for the Fidelius Charm, Harry said to himself. Professor McGonagall had to have told Tonks that she was driving to Hermione's house to meet both her and Harry. Here Harry was, in said house, sitting comfortably on the sofa as if it was his favorite seat in the world (which it was), and it never even occurred to her, a trained Auror, that he might actually be living there.

Hermione had explained to Harry early on that this Fidelius Charm was different than the one protecting number twelve, Grimmauld Place. That charm literally hid the knowledge of the location of Order headquarters. Since Hermione's house was in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood, surrounded by neighbors who were accustomed to seeing a house there, Professor Dumbledore had to be a little more creative.

Hermione, however, had beaten the Headmaster to it. While he was considering different options, Hermione innocently asked if they couldn't simply use the spell to hide the knowledge of where Harry was staying. After chuckling and making some comment under his breath about the minds of children, he immediately began to make preparations to cast the charm to work exactly as Hermione had suggested.

This way, it didn't really matter whether they were in their own house, or even at the aforementioned Holiday Inn; since Harry was staying with Hermione and her parents, the location of wherever they were was secret. It was still advantageous to remain on Broomhill Road, however. Since Professor Dumbledore couldn't hide the house, he cast a number of charms to protect it. After all, if a Death Eater just happened to stroll into the Grangers' living room, he or she would've been able to see Harry; they just wouldn't have known he was living there.

While he was sure the Fidelius Charm would prevent him from actually telling Tonks that he was living there, Harry still wanted to avoid saying anything else he might regret, so he simply answered her question directly. "Yeah, actually I can. I've been no stranger to the Prophet's headlines over the years. So, care to share any of Moony's stories about Padfoot?" Harry asked with a grin.

About half an hour later, Harry and Tonks heard Hermione and Professor McGonagall talking as they walked down the hallway towards the staircase. Harry looked up as they descended the stairs; his Transfiguration teacher was wearing her usual strict appearance.

"Well, Mr. Potter. The door has been repaired, and I do say that I shall have to talk with Professor Flitwick about a refresher course in unlocking spells. I seem to recall Professor Dumbledore telling me that Miss Granger had mastered that one back in first year. Isn't that correct, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor," she agreed eagerly as she smirked at Harry from behind McGonagall's back. If Hermione was thinking what he thought she was thinking, then they were both remembering how they found a three-headed dog behind the first door she unlocked.

"Now, Miss Tonks. If you don't mind, I would like to talk to Mr. Potter for a few minutes," Professor McGonagall said.

"Ah, perfect!" Tonks exclaimed. "I wanted to talk to the person who put the old man in his place! I heard in passing," she said, casting a nervous glance at Professor McGonagall, whose lips pursed together tightly, "that someone actually questioned one of his decisions, and, quite forcefully I hear," another nervous glance, "convinced him to alter his plans. Rarely happens, or so I'm told," Tonks finished with a satisfied smile.

Professor McGonagall sighed lightly. "That's the last time I talk to you while we're driving, Nymphadora Tonks," she said. "In fact it's the last time I go driving at all. If it weren't for Albus's apparation and Floo wards..."

Tonks cringed at the use of her first name. "Fine, now we're even," she said. Hermione and Tonks then went upstairs to give Harry and Professor McGonagall some privacy.

"So, Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" she asked as she sat down on the sofa. "I take it your current environment is an improvement over your previous." Harry looked at her uncertainly as he sat down in the love seat. "Miss Granger wrote me a letter explaining the situation and had Albus deliver it to me when this was all arranged," she said as she waved her hand vaguely around the room.

"Things are better now than they were. 'Life goes on,' Hermione told me," he repeated again, "and that's all I can really do now, go on living." It was the second time this hour he said it, but it did seem a little easier this time.

"Well, I said it last year, and I'll say it again: I'm glad you will at least listen to Miss Granger." Harry wasn't sure about it, but there appeared to be a trace of a smile on her face.

"So, Mr. Potter, down to the business at hand. I received a copy of your O.W.L.s. I must congratulate you. A 10.8 is quite an achievement, particularly considering who you had for an instructor last year." Harry could hear the disdain in her voice.

"Here is a partial timetable of your classes next year," she said, pulling a piece of parchment out of a pocket in her jacket that wasn't there earlier. "That is, of course, assuming you wish to continue in your plans to become an Auror. As you can see, you still have several openings that need to be filled," Professor McGonagall said, tapping each of them with her wand, causing them to glow bright red.

She said she had a copy of my O.W.L.s, Harry thought to himself. She knows I got an 'E.' Since she made no mention of it excluding him from N.E.W.T. Potions, he decided to do as Hermione suggested and not worry about it.

"Please make your selections and send them back with either Hedwig or Metis as soon as possible," Professor McGonagall requested. "Several of this year's N.E.W.T. courses have not been finalized yet, so I will send your book lists and homework assignments as soon as they are ready.

"I understand that you will be in Diagon Alley on Friday, correct?" she asked cautiously. Harry nodded. "All of the class details should be in place by then. If they are, and you have made your selections by then, I will have your book lists delivered to you there." Harry knew which 'there' she meant. "If not, I will send them to you by owl.

"There is one other matter I wish to discuss with you," Professor McGonagall said, pulling something out of another pocket. "As you may or may not know, with the removal of our previous Headmistress, all of her punishments have been canceled. It is therefore my privilege to inform you that your Quidditch ban has been rescinded."

Harry's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He could play Quidditch again!

"You will have to tryout again, I'm afraid," Professor McGonagall interjected. "I will not interfere in the internal structure of our House team. I am quite certain, however, that you will regain your position as Seeker. That being said, it brings up a related matter.

"The Gryffindor Quidditch team is in need of a new captain," she explained. "This obviously is a position of great importance. It is not a role to be accepted lightly. Do you know of anyone who would be willing to accept such a position?" she asked with a genuine smile on her face. Harry looked down at her hand which she had just opened in front of him. Resting on her palm was a small golden badge, the image of a broomstick and Snitch embossed on it.

Quidditch Captain! She was offering him the position of captain! It was what he always wanted. Wasn't it? He knew that part of him had always thought how cool it would be to be captain of the team. But now that the badge was literally staring him in the face, was it really what he wanted? Was he really up to the job?

Harry had always been Seeker. It was the only position he ever played. While it was true he had been in every game (if you excluded injuries, attacks, and lifetime bans), he rarely actually watched his own team play, even in practices; he was almost always chasing after the Snitch. Over the last five years as a spectator in the stands, he had actually seen the other three Houses' teams play more than his own. He knew their moves better than he knew Gryffindor's. If he was honest with himself, all he really knew of how his own team played was what was written on the blackboard.

He knew enough about Quidditch strategies in general to be able to answer all of Hermione's questions about what just happened when they were watching the other Houses, or to be able to follow along with Oliver Wood or Angelina Johnson's game plan diagrams. But to actually be the one designing those game plans? That was an entirely different matter all together.

In his opinion, what a Quidditch Captain really needed to be was someone who excelled at strategy, someone who had a good vantage point from which to watch the game. The only thing Harry really ever saw up in the air (other than streaks of shiny black hair back in third and fifth years...) was the Snitch.

Harry made up his mind and smiled at Professor McGonagall. "Yes ma'am, I do. With your permission, I would like to suggest as Quidditch Captain... Ronald Weasley."

Harry's Head of House seemed to be surprised slightly by his nomination; she quickly recovered with another genuine smile. "Very well, Mr. Potter. There are two conditions that must be met, however, before I can appoint Mr. Weasley as captain.

"First, I cannot allow him to be both Quidditch Captain and house prefect. Both positions require a certain level of commitment. I have it on good authority that he did not take to his position of prefect with as much enthusiasm as I or the Headmaster would have hoped."

The look Harry gave her silently asked the question he would not verbalize.

"From someone who would know," she replied, unintentionally glancing at the stairs for a moment. "In order for me to name him captain, he would first need to voluntarily give up the position of prefect."

Harry smiled. "Professor, I think if he knew his choice was prefect or Quidditch Captain, you'd have his badge before you finished the sentence." Professor McGonagall didn't allow herself to smile, though Harry could see her agreement with his assessment in her eyes.

"As I mentioned, there is a second condition that must be met as well. If Mr. Weasley does volunteer to step down as prefect, I must appoint a new house prefect. Unfortunately, this is not a position for which I can solicit suggestions. The decision has already been made.

"Before I can offer the captain position to Mr. Weasley," she explained, "the new prefect must agree to be his replacement."

"That sounds easy enough," Harry reasoned. "When are you going to ask Ron's replacement?"

"Right now," Professor McGonagall replied smiling. "Are you willing to become the new Gryffindor prefect, Mr. Potter, assuming Mr. Weasley is willing to step down?"

"Yes," Harry replied instantly, a happy smile on his face. He felt Ron truly deserved this chance to be captain. As much as he loved playing Quidditch, when it came to actually being captain, he really would rather have someone who knew strategy be captain, like Ron (if his chess games were any indication). He was content to just go out and play, and be prefect with Hermione.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I would ask that you not mention this to Mr. Weasley. I want him to make this decision without the knowledge that you would become prefect in his place. He must accept the responsibility because he wants to, and not because he knows you will benefit as well," she explained. Harry nodded.

"Thank you. I will not bore you right now by explaining all of the duties of a school prefect. I am quite sure Miss Granger will be more than willing to explain everything once you tell her."

Professor McGonagall looked at her watch (which just happened to match her suit). "Now, you must forgive me, but I have an entire class of O.W.L. letters to finish writing." She tapped the watch on her wrist with her wand. Several moments later, he heard Tonks and Hermione coming downstairs. Looking up, he saw Tonks shaking her wrist.

"That hurt," she said, looking at an identical watch on her wrist. "I don't know whose idea these were..." she complained.

"Yours, as I recall," Professor McGonagall replied dryly to Tonks. "Well Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I shall see you on Thursday. Again, congratulations on your O.W.L.s, to both of you," she said, then opened the front door and walked out towards the Ministry car.

"See you two later," Tonks said, bidding them farewell. When Professor McGonagall was out of earshot, Tonks turned back to Harry and Hermione. "So, Hermione. Why was your door closed when Harry kicked it in?" she asked with a devilish grin on her face. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, blushing.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I'll have to remember that one," Tonks said as she finally went out the front door, closing it behind her.

"Well, that was certainly informative," Hermione decided.

"I'll say," Harry agreed, though he didn't know to which part she was referring. "Did you actually complain about Ron being prefect?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

"What?" she asked as she turned to him, confused. "Well, I did mention to Professor McGonagall once that he seemed less than enthusiastic about being prefect. It was early on in the year. But no, I never actually filed a complaint or anything like that. Why? How did you know about that?"

"Oh," Harry replied, feeling much better, "she mentioned it to me... when she offered me the position of prefect," he finished, smiling.

"WHAT?! Are you serious? This is WONDERFUL! I'm so happy for you, Harry," Hermione spoke breathlessly. A few seconds later, her expression suddenly changed as though she just realized something. "But... what about Ron? She didn't..."

"No," Harry answered. He told her about his discussion with Professor McGonagall about the captain position.

"So, Ron will be captain, but only if he steps down as prefect, and only if you agreed ahead of time to take his place?" Hermione asked; Harry nodded. A large smile grew on her face. "This is going to be so much fun!"

Harry returned her smile, but looked at her quizzically. "Do you really think being prefect is fun?" he asked, genuinely unaware of how she felt about being prefect now that she had actually done it for a year. He was pretty sure he knew just how Ron felt about the all of the extra duties.

Hermione backtracked a little. "Well, I wouldn't say 'fun' exactly. It is a lot of extra work. But, you know, things like that are ALWAYS better when you're with a friend." Harry smiled and nodded. On the inside however, he was trying to figure out what, if anything, she meant by that. To him, the way she said it, it sounded like she meant being with him was somehow different than being with Ron.

That afternoon, the two of them sat together on the sofa comparing their timetables and looking at the list of classes from which they could select to fill their open time slots. Crookshanks sat between them, purring quite loudly, enjoying double attention. In the end however, they decided not to return them today. Professor McGonagall had told Hermione that a regular bird cage would be acceptable for Metis. They therefore needed to go out shopping tonight to buy one.

Before they could do that however, Hermione still had to tell her parents about Metis. She needed both owls there in order to do it the way she had planned. They decided now was as good a time as any for the two owls to be introduced (Metis had stayed in Hermione's room all day; Hedwig in Harry's).

Once at the top of the stairs, Hermione began to get nervous, even though she had been the one to convince Harry everything would be fine. "Harry, do you want to hold Metis? Since I don't have a cage yet, I'll have to carry her in. You have more experience actually holding an owl than I do. I really don't want her to be able to fly around freely, just in case things don't go well."

"Honestly? No. I really don't want Hedwig to see me holding her," Harry replied. "I don't want her to get any more jealous than necessary. Don't worry, I'll show you how to hold her." Harry offered.

After carefully demonstrating where to place her arms and hands to hold properly hold Metis (plus a couple of practical adjustments of her arms and hands once she was actually holding Metis), Harry went back to his room to "prepare" Hedwig. After coaxing her out of her cage onto the dresser, he fed her a few owl treats and stroked her head and back several times to put her in a good mood.

"Now Hedwig, there's someone I want you to meet," Harry tried to explain. "Metis is going to be staying here from now on, so I really hope the two of you can get along." Hedwig stared at Harry with her large amber eyes and clicked her beak; he wished he knew what that meant. He could just barely hear Hermione talking softly to Metis as she walked down the hall towards his room.

"Metis is Hermione's new owl, OK?" he explained. "This is their home, we're just guests here." Hedwig blinked her eyes.

Right on cue, Hermione entered the room with Metis in her arms. Hedwig immediately turned her head to look at the second snowy owl. Her eyes immediately locked on Metis; Metis's immediately locked onto Hedwig. For several moments, each stared at the other. Any movement either made was immediately matched by the other, as though they were in some sort of staring contest where neither would let the other gain the upper hand.

"So far, so good," Harry said quietly.

After a few moments, Hermione decided there was one last thing that had to be tested for her introduction plan to work. She walked over to Harry's desk and set Metis down on it and then stepped away. Both owls were now free to move (or fight, in Harry's mind) if they wanted to.

But after all the worrying Harry had done, nothing happened. The two owls simply continued to stare at each other. Finally after about a minute or so, Hedwig must have gotten bored, or hungry, for she turned away from Metis and took off, flying out the window.

"Well, that went well, I suppose," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. Looking back out the window, he watched as Hedwig flew towards King George's Park. "She must be hungry. I don't think she's been out all day."

Right as Hermione began to step towards Harry's desk, Metis too suddenly took flight and headed out the window towards the park. "Oh, poor Metis," Hermione started sadly. "I don't think she's been out at all except for her first delivery," she said cheerily. "See Harry. I told you everything would be OK," Hermione finished in a very sure voice.

Harry looked at her and smirked. "Yeah, this coming from you who wanted me to hold your owl in case things didn't go well."

"Well," Hermione answered sheepishly, "you know how to hold an owl," she said, trying to justify herself.

"Uh huh," Harry said, entirely unconvinced and smiling the entire time.

"Anyway," Hermione battled on, "even if they didn't get along, even though I knew they would, it wouldn't have really made any difference, would it? After all, Metis would be in my room and Hedwig would be in yours."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said with a laugh. Idiot, he mentally kicked himself. All we would've had to do was keep them in their own cages then let them out separately. Here I've been worried all this time that I might have to leave if they didn't get along. Harry breathed a great sigh of relief now that he knew he wouldn't have to leave.

Later that evening, Hermione went upstairs to see if Metis and Hedwig had returned from hunting. Dan and Emma were due home any time now.

"Hedwig's back," Hermione called as she walked past Harry's room. "So is Metis. Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry got up from the loveseat and started to head up to Hermione's room. Halfway up the stairs, he heard a very unhappy Hermione in her room. "Ughhh. Gross. Oh, Metis..."

Harry immediately turned around and went into the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels and some cleaner. Climbing the stairs, he called up to her with a laugh. "That's why you really need a cage with newspapers."

"Oh shut it, Harry," she called back.

After helping Hermione clean up (a task with which he was not unfamiliar), Harry began to put Hermione's plan into motion. "All right, do you remember what I told you about how to have her sit on your shoulder so you're both comfortable?" he asked her after getting Metis up on Hermione's shoulder.

"Yes," Hermione answered, not wanting to move her head any more than necessary by nodding. She slowly walked downstairs and into the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table in the one seat that was not visible from the living room. She then opened the book she had brought down with her and began to read.

Harry, for his part of the plan, returned to his room to wait for Dan and Emma to return home. Reading by his window, he heard their car pull into the drive about ten minutes later. "They're home," he called downstairs.

"OK," she called back.

"It's showtime," Harry said to Hedwig as he put her on his shoulder.

"Hello?" Emma called as she and Dan walked in the front door. Upon entering the house, they found the TV off and no one in the living room.

"Hello," Hermione responded. "In the kitchen."

"Where's Harry?" Dan asked as he closed the front door.

"He's upstairs," Hermione replied. "Hey Mum, Dad, what do you think about a new addition to the house?" she asked. Having absolutely no idea what their daughter was talking about, Dan and Emma started to walk to the kitchen with confused expressions on their faces.

Harry, who had been listening to the scene play out below from his bedroom door, recognized his cue; he walked to the top of the staircase once Dan and Emma had walked beyond it. He slowly and quietly came down the stairs.

When Dan and Emma entered the kitchen, they stopped immediately upon seeing Metis on Hermione's shoulder. "I was thinking about keeping her," Hermione explained. "So, what do you think? Would you mind a post owl in the house?"

Dan and Emma were now thoroughly perplexed. "You're going to keep Hedwig?" Emma asked. "What does Harry say about all this?"

"What do I say about what?" Harry asked as he stepped off the staircase behind Dan and Emma. They both immediately spun around.

"Hermione says that she's..." Dan started, but then stopped when he saw Hedwig on Harry's shoulder. Baffled, Dan and Emma walked back into the living room towards Harry. Hermione, in the meantime, stood up as soon as her parents' backs were turned and started to sneak into the living room behind them.

Seeing that she had slipped past them and was now standing between the sofa and loveseat, Harry took advantage of Dan and Emma's momentary puzzlement to walk past them. He went over and stood next to Hermione on her right. With Metis on Hermione's right shoulder and Hedwig on Harry's left (as planned), the two stood shoulder to shoulder, with their owls wing to wing.

"Mum, Dad. You already know Hedwig," Hermione started, turning slightly to look at Hedwig. "I'd like to introduce you to Metis," she said warmly, reaching up and stroking Metis's back. "She's my new owl."

"What was it you wanted to ask me about, Emma?" Harry asked again. He and Hermione stood there for several moments with large grins on their faces, both reveling in the rare moment when Hermione was able to so completely surprise them that they were both speechless (or so she said as she detailed her plan earlier). Metis and Hedwig, on the other hand, simply looked at each other; they appeared entirely uninterested in what their owners had planned.

Emma was the first to recover. She at least now seemed to accept and understand that there were two owls. "So that's your owl?" she asked uncertainly.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Remember that owl in my O.W.L.s that I said I didn't bring down with me and that I'd show you later?" Emma nodded. "Well... Ta-da! Here she is!"

Dan began to smile as he began to piece together what they had done. Emma slowly began to smile also. "But I thought it was a pin or a badge or something like that," she said uncertainly.

A slight smirk played across Hermione's face. "Well, that kinda was the idea. I had already sent Metis on her first delivery so I couldn't properly introduce you," she explained. "I wanted to wait until she got back."

"What did you say her name was again, dear?" Dan asked.

"Metis," Hermione repeated.

"Metis?" Emma pondered. "That name seems vaguely familiar," she said, looking at Dan who shook his head.

"Metis is the Greek goddess of wisdom and prudence," Hermione explained.

Emma smiled and nodded. "I knew I had heard it before. It's been a few years since Introduction to Mythology back in my first year at university," Emma laughed. She started to move forward to hug her daughter but stopped short for fear of jostling Metis.

"Congratulations dear," she cried. "We should go out and celebrate! Let's go somewhere fancy for dinner tonight," she suggested, apparently forgetting that they had gone out for Italian only two nights earlier.

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, "could we maybe delay the dinner and stop by the pet store instead? I really need to get her a cage, tonight." A small smile appeared on Harry's face.

"OK then," Dan agreed. "Let us change first and then we can be on our way. I think they close at nine." He and Emma went upstairs to change clothes. Harry and Hermione followed them up to put their owls back in their rooms (Hermione had set down a layer of newspapers on top of her dresser).

Returning downstairs, Hermione sat down in the loveseat to wait for her parents. "That went well," she said, satisfied.

"You were right. That was fun," Harry said with a grin as he sat down next to her.

"O, ye of little faith," Hermione replied, elbowing him lightly.

"They certainly seemed to like Metis... once they realized you weren't stealing Hedwig."

"Wait until I tell them that she'll be staying with them during the school year. They'll really love that," Hermione said in anticipation. "They'll be able to write me whenever they want. Before, they only could send replies back whenever I owled them first," she explained.

A few minutes later, Dan and Emma came downstairs, ready to head out. As the four of them headed down the walk towards the car, Hermione began to reveal her last surprise for her parents.

"So, you guys really like Metis?" she asked.

"Very much," Dan and Emma replied simultaneously; they looked at each other and grinned.

"Well, that's good," Hermione said as she climbed in the car, setting the bait.

"Why's that?" Emma asked, taking the bait. Hermione explained the last part of the surprise as they began to drive down Broomhill Road. Needless to say, Dan and Emma were very excited.

After leaving the pet store with a new cage for Metis (and Harry trying not to laugh at the small selection of "bird toys" Hermione also bought), Harry ended up suggesting that they should go out to eat since the night was still young. The three Grangers shared a quick glance and said they would just find something at home, and save dinner out for "another night."

Back in the pet store, Harry had set his hand in something wet and most likely disgusting as he walked by the veterinary check in counter. After returning from the loo, he found Hermione, Dan, and Emma standing together talking quietly. As soon as Emma saw him, they all stopped talking and subtly took a step away from each other. After that, hearing the way Dan said "another night," Harry was sure they had planned something for his birthday, in addition to whatever happened at Grimmauld Place.

On the way home, they drove past the home improvement center which, according to Hermione, had a very nice garden center. Still needing to get Neville a present, Harry asked if they could stop. While Dan and Emma went off to find new door hardware (Hermione forgot to mention that it had already been fixed and Dan had no reason to check to make sure it was still broken), Harry and Hermione wandered around the garden center together looking at different plants.

Finally, in the mini green house section, Harry found something that was exactly what he was looking for: a Venus Flytrap. "It's not Devil's Snare, but it's pretty wicked as far as Muggle plants go," Harry explained. As they started wandering the aisles looking for Dan and Emma, Hermione had a decidedly worried expression on her face.

"I still don't know what to get him," Hermione explained after Harry asked what was bothering her. "I didn't even know it was his birthday until you mentioned it. At least with you, I knew when it was so I had time to get it taken care of."

"'Get it taken care of'?" Harry asked with a laugh. "You make it sound like there was some big production involved."

"What? No, of course not. I just meant that I had time to think about what I wanted to get you. Oh, there they are!" Hermione suddenly said as she saw her parents carrying a new door handle and latch. She then quickly walked over to meet them; Harry had to also to catch up with her. After returning the door hardware, Dan purchased the plant for Harry. They then returned home for the evening.

The next day, Wednesday, Harry and Hermione were in the kitchen eating lunch when they were suddenly startled by a thumping noise at the French doors that opened onto the backyard.

"What does Ron feed that bird?" Harry asked as he watched Pig flutter madly around at the door, waiting to be let in. After Hermione untied the letter that was addressed to her, Pig began to zoom around the room. After a moment, Harry was able to lure Pig down to the table by holding up the plate containing the remnants of his lunch.

After Ron's tiny Scops owl decided to pass on Harry's sandwich, he hopped up to Harry's glass of water and began to drink eagerly from it. After drinking his fill, he began to fly around the room again as Hermione continued to read the letter from Ginny. Looking at his glass with distaste, Harry dumped the remaining water out in the sink and got a new glass.

Finally becoming annoyed at the constant twittering, she set down the letter and looked up at Pig. "You can go now," she said in a slightly irritated voice. "I'll send a reply later. It's no wonder Hedwig doesn't like him," she added to Harry. As Hermione got up to open the door, Harry glanced over at the letter on the table.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he began to look at the letter. Gah! For a girl, Ginny certainly has messy handwriting, Harry thought to himself. And of course it's upside down. I can't read anything... not that I'm snooping or anything, he tried to convince himself.

Harry was now so intently looking across the table, trying to read even a single word that he nearly jumped out of his chair when Hermione's hand came slamming down on the letter.

"Don't you dare try to read that, Harry," she warned him. Her face then immediately brightened. "It's just birthday stuff. You wouldn't want to read about that, now would you?" she asked with smile that just screamed "I know something that you don't!"

"Well, that depends now, doesn't it?" Harry replied. Hermione looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Depends on whether it's good or not."

"Well, I didn't think it seemed too out of line," she said, clearly unable to contain herself. After looking at him for a few moments her grin began to get bigger and bigger; finally she had to turn around to keep from laughing out loud. That certainly didn't set Harry at ease.

I have a bad feeling about this, Harry repeated to himself. She's happy... I mean, she's been happy since I got here, according to Dan, but this... this is like... super-happy, he decided. He began to consider what might lie in store for him. There were so many possibilities that he could not focus on a single one.

Well, if Hermione approves, how bad can it really be? Harry finally decided. I mean, I doubt anyone will get arrested, or anything like that. What's the worst that can happen?

Later that afternoon, Hermione asked Harry if she could borrow Hedwig to send a reply to Ginny. After he teasingly asked if she forgot about Metis, Hermione explained that, if Harry was willing, she wanted to introduce Metis to Ginny and Ron and everyone else the same way she did to her parents. He agreed and she went to go send her letter.

Later that afternoon, Hermione realized that they had forgotten to go through their class timetables to select classes to fill the openings. After about half an hour, she completed her selections, though she refused to tell Harry what they were until he selected his own.

Harry, who quite literally had given zero thought to what he wanted to do other than be an Auror, had a much more difficult time making his decisions. In fact, he didn't. By the time he had given up for the day, he had not selected a single class, though he did listen to Hermione explain all of them for much of the afternoon (he finally found out what was so wonderful about Arithmancy).

After another series of late surgeries, Dan and Emma came home tired that night, bringing with them takeaway Chinese food. This time however, they brought home four small meals, everyone getting their own favorites. Harry sampled a little of everyone else's (they told him what they were, but he couldn't remember the names now), but in the end, he decided he liked his General Tsao's Chicken the best.

That night, Harry found it very difficult to fall asleep. Tomorrow was his birthday... his sixteenth birthday. Now, if Hermione's behavior today was any indication, it meant that is was supposed to be something special. What exactly it was, he didn't know. But in the end, he trusted that she was right and decided not too worry about it. A short while later, he finally fell asleep.

The following morning, Harry awoke to a knocking at his door. It's too early, Harry complained to himself. Now that he was awake, he vaguely heard music coming from the stereo downstairs in the living room; it was too muffled though to make it out. Can't a bloke sleep in on his birthday? The knocking continued for several more seconds before Harry finally gave in. Considering who was on the other side of the door, he knew there was no point in even trying to ignore her.

"Come in," he finally said, after rolling over so his back was to her to hide himself. He was also hoping she'd get the hint that it was far too early. As she opened the door, he was finally able to hear what was playing downstairs.

Somewhere after midnight

In my wildest fantasy

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione greeted him cheerfully.

Somewhere just beyond my reach

There's someone reaching back for me

He could hear her go over to the window and pull back the curtains, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. "Happy birthday!" He could feel her standing over him.

"Just five more minutes," he whined, pulling his blanket tighter around him.

It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet

"It's already after ten o'clock, Harry," she replied in a mother-lecturing-her-child tone of voice. He listened to a short instrumental section as she went into the hall to pick up something she had set down when she opened the door.

"Ugh," he groaned. "It certainly—" His complaint that it didn't feel that late was cut off by a more primal urge that he just now noticed.

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above

"Is that bacon?" he asked, inhaling deeply, then quickly sitting upright, dropping his previously coveted blanket onto his legs and lap.

I could swear there is someone somewhere

Watching me

He looked over to discover that she had brought up a breakfast tray filled with a small feast of pancakes, bacon, and orange juice.

I can feel his approach

He drew in another deep breath as he gazed fondly at the tray. Before he could do or say anything, Crookshanks jumped up on the bed and came up even to Harry, looking at the tray as well, purring insistently.

Like a fire in my blood

"Hey!" he complained to the cat. "That's mine!"

Hermione set the breakfast tray down on Harry's desk and went over to collect Crookshanks. After picking him up (and most of the blanket for he had dug into it with his claws), she took him back to her room and shut him in. While she was gone, the song was in another instrumental section. I think I like this song, Harry thought to himself as he looked back at the tray.

Right as he was about to get up to get the tray, Hermione returned to the room and picked up the tray again.

"Let's try this again, Harry, sans hungry cat. Happy birthday!" she said as she brought the tray over to him.

I need a hero

"I love you, Hermione," said Harry, sinking back in the bed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, "Don't let Cho hear you saying that."

And he's gotta be sure

And it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

After he scooted back a little so he could sit up against the headboard, Hermione set the breakfast tray over his legs. "You don't like her much, do you?" he asked, smirking.

Looking caught slightly off guard, Hermione quickly recovered. "As I recall, she was the one who didn't like me," she said, avoiding the question.

"True, but you didn't answer the question, now did you?" he prodded her.

Trying not to smile, she simply headed back towards the door. Once there, she turned to look back. "Hurry up and eat. Fawkes was by. Professor Dumbledore will be here to pick us up at eleven. And as for Cho, I try not to speak ill of anyone..." she trailed off, implying she was about to say more.

"Yes, and?" Harry asked suggestively, eager for her to continue.

Hermione smiled, wagged her eyebrows, then turned and left, saying nothing. Harry laughed to himself and then started in on his breakfast, listening to the rest of the song.

Hero

Oh he's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

A half hour later, he had finished eating and went to take a shower. Upon returning to his room, he found that Hermione had been up to take the tray. She had also made the bed; it was the first time it was made properly since Harry had arrived.

When he went downstairs, he found her sitting patiently in the loveseat, watching Crookshanks clean his face in front of the sofa (having just been fed) as she waited for the Headmaster to arrive. On her lap was a neatly wrapped present, roughly square-shaped, several inches thick. Harry smiled; since it was from Hermione, he was pretty sure he knew what that was.

"Thanks for breakfast," he said, sitting down next to her.

She turned slightly to look at him. "Yeah, well don't get used to it. And just so you know, I expect the same on my birthday," she said smiling.

Harry laughed. "Well that may be a little difficult, seeing as how I can't get up the stairs into your room at school."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Oh well, I'm sure you'll figure something out," she chuckled.

"So, what was that song you were listening to earlier?" Harry asked.

"Huh? Oh that? It's called 'Holding Out for a Hero.' It's something I heard Mum listening to once, and I really liked it." Hermione chuckled slightly. "I kept borrowing it so often that she ended up just buying me my own CD for my birthday.

"It's funny. I'd heard her play it before, but the summer after third year, some of the lines caught my attention. Do you know which ones?" she asked.

Harry tried to remember the lines he was able to hear. One of them had caught his attention too. "Someone somewhere watching me," Harry guessed. "When I heard it, I thought about us under the Invisibility Cloak watching ourselves when we used your Time Turner."

A huge grin lit up Hermione's face as she nodded. "It's my favorite song now," she told him. Harry then asked her to play it again so he could hear the whole thing.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you. Neville isn't coming," she told him. "Ginny sent Pig this morning. She said that Neville and his grandmother were visiting their family for his birthday, so he wouldn't be able to come. She said to tell you that Neville was sorry for missing your birthday, and that he wanted to thank you for offering to have a combined party."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping I'd be able to give him his present and suggest he name it Audrey II," Harry said, remembering the movie that was on television last week.

"You still can," Hermione said, "You can give it to him when we get to school."

After several silent minutes sitting there waiting for the Headmaster to arrive, Harry began to feel very awkward. "Erm, Hermione? Before Professor Dumbledore arrives, there is something I wanted to tell you. I know I said it earlier, but I just wanted to say it one more time." He paused for a moment and looked down at his knees; he began to nervously rub his hands on his pants.

He found himself unable to speak until Hermione reached over and grabbed his left hand to stop him. She looked at him almost pleadingly, encouraging him to continue.

"Thanks. I just wanted to thank you, for all of this. I haven't even been here two weeks, and this is already more like a real home to me than I ever had at the Dursleys. I don't know if I would've been able to make it through the summer there." Harry paused and sighed. "Tomorrow is the real test. I'm glad Gringotts said you needed to come too." Harry smiled slightly. "It saves me from having to figure out how to convince you to come with me."

Hermione, who was clearly misty eyed and made no effort to hide it, squeezed his hand. "You need only have asked," she affirmed, smiling.

A few minutes later, a flash of fire in the kitchen signaled Professor Dumbledore's arrival with Fawkes. Hermione quickly let go of Harry's hand and stood up to go and greet him.

"Good day, Miss Granger. I trust the situation has improved since the last time we met," the Headmaster said, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"It has, Headmaster," Hermione replied, very happy.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore greeted Harry cautiously. Neither of them had forgotten their last face-to-face meeting.

Harry walked up to him with a stern face. After looking at him for a few seconds, Harry smiled broadly. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore. Thanks for allowing me to stay here."

The Headmaster smiled in return. "Ah Harry. You should be thanking Miss Granger here and her parents for that. Me? I just handled... the logistics, that's all."

Harry cast a quick glance at Hermione. "Well, I already did, many times. But I just wanted to say it to you as well. Thank you."

"In that case then, Mr. Potter, you're welcome," Dumbledore replied. "Now, before we all get too teary-eyed in our thanks, we really should be leaving. Everyone is waiting."

Dumbledore then turned to Hermione. "But, before we do, Miss Granger, I should very much like to meet your new owl. Professor McGonagall was very impressed, if I do say so myself," the Headmaster said with a slight chuckle. "Though that might've had as much to do with the fact that in the last 150 years, you are second only to her in overall O.W.L. scores," he said, the eyes behind his half-moon spectacles twinkling.

Hermione appeared speechless. "Th- Thank you sir. I didn't know that. The letter from the exam board didn't say who that person was fifty-five years ago."

"No, I don't imagine they would. That isn't the sort of information they would distribute freely," Dumbledore explained. "I can assure you though that she does not mind you knowing. I must congratulate you Miss Granger. Quite an accomplishment."

Professor Dumbledore then turned to Harry. "And congratulations to you too, Harry. First score over 10.0 in a century and a half. Very impressive."

"You wouldn't happen to know who was the last person to receive such a score, would you, Professor?" Harry asked with a slight smile. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

The Headmaster looked as though he was thinking for a moment before answering. "Ah, yes. I'm quite sure I know the individual. He's probably some crazy old wizard with more gray hair than common sense, and a tendency to care about people too much. Not exactly the 'right crowd,' if you ask me, Harry," he answered. His mustache twitched slightly, unable to hide the smile beneath.

"Now, Miss Granger, if you don't mind, before we leave, I would very much like to be introduced to Hogwarts' newest O.W.L. owl."

Hermione led Harry and the Headmaster up to her room, taking Harry's present with her. Metis was sleeping contently. "Time to wake up," she encourage the sleeping owl. "We have a party to go to."

Upon seeing Metis, Dumbledore smiled and spoke softly. "Ah, a truly beautiful creature. A tribute to the breed. Have you selected a name yet?" he asked.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Metis. I named her after the Greek goddess."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore replied. He stared thoughtfully from Hermione to Metis for a moment, his eyes twinkling merrily all the while. "Wisdom and prudence. A truly fitting choice on your part, Miss Granger. I expected no less."

Receiving such high praise from the Headmaster, Hermione blushed slightly. She then went over and told Metis that she was going visit Ginny and Ron and to follow her there. Harry went and told Hedwig the same thing.

"Well now, I do believe it is time we are off to your party, Harry," Dumbledore exclaimed once they Harry returned to Hermione's room.

Professor Dumbledore pulled out of his pocket a small golden ring. "We can't apparate or Floo from here, and I didn't think you wanted to take the Knight Bus," he explained as he held it out for Harry and Hermione to touch. "On the count of three," he began.

"One."

Between counts, Harry began to think about how excited he was. It was true that the party would be in Sirius's house, however everyone he wanted to be there would. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione fidget a little as she waited. He was sure he would be able to survive it.

"Two."

After 'two,' Hermione shifted slightly in anticipation of the familiar sensation of Portkey travel. As she did, her hand brushed against Harry's. He immediately felt a very familiar lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach. Since this was near his navel, he ordinarily would pay it no mind; he was quite used to the feeling by now, though it was no more enjoyable than it had ever been. There was, however, one inescapable fact that even Captain Oblivious could not ignore: the Portkey hadn't activated yet.

"Three," the Headmaster said, and they were gone.

---

A/N: Thanks as always to my beta, MapleMountain. Hey, it wasn't that I gave up searching for the pronunciation of Metis. It's that I never DID search for the pronunciation of it... I just kept searching for the name itself! Just goes to show you don't find what you don't look for... :-)

Song credit... In case anyone was REALLY paying attention to it, they might realize that I used the version by Jennifer Saunders from Shrek 2. Yes, I know that movie was years after "sixth year." But hey, Dudley got a Playstation in the summer of 1994 even though they weren't released until September 1995, so I can use this, right? :-) Sure, I COULD have used the classic Bonnie Tyler version; that CD was released in 1990. I just like the Jennifer Saunders version better. And since that's what inspired this section... This IS fiction after all, right? :-) By the way, if anyone is familiar with Jennifer Saunders from the British comedy "Absolutely Fabulous," I think she'd make a wonderful Professor Umbridge. Just my two cents...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: Whew! What was it I said about “regular length chapters” last time?? Yeah right!! Oh well, it’s been fun all the same! And awaaaayyyy we go!

Of course, even if I ever did forget to thank him (like that one time...), I could never forget to be thankful for my beta, MapleMountain.

And finally... I’m SO sorry, Harry, for what fate (i.e.: the author) does to you in this first paragraph...

Chapter 13. Holding Out for a Hero.

When he landed in an un-catlike fashion in the entrance hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry very quickly became aware of a gut-wrenching reality. As Hermione also landed ungracefully next to him, she lost her grip on her present. Harry knew with nauseating certainty that her present was much, much heavier than it looked. When it finally made contact with him, it landed on its corner, effectively concentrating all of the energy of the fall (with almost pin-point accuracy) onto a part of Harry’s body that never before had received such mistreatment.

Harry immediately curled up into a ball and then rolled over onto his side, effectively wedging Hermione’s brick of a present further into his groin as it became sandwiched between his legs and chest. Whatever discomfort this might have caused was overpowered by the pain he was currently feeling from the high energy impact he had already taken. Choking and coughing, tears began to stream down his face.

Hearing Harry in such obvious pain, Hermione immediately sat up from her undignified fallen position, looking over at him to see what was wrong.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked, very concerned.

Unable (and unwilling) to say what her present had done to him, he tried to focus his attention away from the heavy, throbbing stabs of agony that were synchronized to the beat of his heart; he could not ignore them even if he tried. “Yes, I’m fine,” he lied pitifully, in an unnaturally high, shaky voice.

Still unaware of Harry’s condition, Dumbledore chuckled to himself merrily as he stood up, quite spryly actually, for a man on the bottom half of his second century. While the pain had not lessened, Harry had become acclimated enough to the point where he could at least roll onto his back and uncurl himself from the fetal position. The ten-ton boulder of a gift still sat atop Harry’s midsection; it was still sitting there, but at least it wasn’t falling, or colliding, or impacting.

Hermione looked at the gift she had been so anxious to give Harry. When she saw where it now rested, followed by her noticing how quickly the color had drained from Harry’s face, her face paled also as she realized what must have happened. She turned her head to look at the Headmaster, who was still busy brushing off his robes.

“No matter how many times I do that...” he said aloud to himself, thoroughly entertained by his latest Portkey transport. “The only thing better, for a man of my age of course, is a good Muggle roller coaster. I—” Dumbledore stopped as his eyes landed on a tear-stained Harry Potter lying beneath a neatly wrapped present; he visibly winced at the scene before him.

The sight of Albus Dumbledore, a man Hermione held in high regards as one of the most powerful wizards alive, cringing at Harry’s situation did nothing but make her feel worse. Wanting to help Harry, she began to reach for the present to remove it. Dumbledore signaled for her to stop with a wave of his hand.

“Harry?” he asked very gingerly, almost as if he too were in pain. “Are you all right?”

“N... no,” Harry squeaked back weakly, his eyes still tightly clenched shut.

“If you are able, Harry, would you please hand your present back to Miss Granger and attempt to stand?” Dumbledore asked gently. “I may be able to remedy your situation, once you are upright.”

Dumbledore’s offer of apparent salvation motivated Harry to open his eyes. He reached down below his waist, removed the wrapped box, and gave Hermione her gift. Summoning every ounce of strength in his pain-weakened body, he sat up, then slowly climbed to his feet. He was shaky, but standing.

Dumbledore moved to stand in front of Harry, retrieving his wand from his robes. “Miss Granger. If you do not mind, would you kindly look the other way for a moment? While there is nothing to be seen here, I’m sure Harry would be more at ease knowing he wasn’t under such... scrutiny.” Hermione looked momentarily at Harry. She could see him watching her out of the corner of his eye; he quickly looked back at the Headmaster. Hermione nodded then looked in the opposite direction, still sitting on the floor.

Dumbledore made an intricate series of movements with his wand over Harry’s midsection. A pale blue, pulsing glow appeared below his waist.

“No permanent damage,” Dumbledore said to Harry, “One picks up a few things when he has been to the Hospital Wing as many times as I have to sort out the latest whodunit” he explained. He then took a step back, and carefully took aim with his wand.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Dumbledore asked in a soft voice. Even though Harry was still in misery, and even though Dumbledore said this would help him, it was still a very scary sight to see a wand being so carefully pointed there. Harry nodded slightly.

“Don’t move,” Dumbledore said politely. Harry closed his eyes.

“Occaeco!” he heard the Headmaster say gently. The next instant, Harry felt all of the pain in his midsection disappear completely; his entire body relaxed now that that unique and unforgettable pain was gone. He opened his eyes again.

“How do you feel now, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. Hermione decided it was safe and looked back. Harry stood there for a moment, obviously trying to sense any lingering pain.

“Much better now. The pain’s gone,” he said, relieved. After rolling around on the floor, his trousers had shifted slightly out of position. Harry hooked his index fingers through two of the belt loops and gave a slight tug to pull everything back into place. After doing so, a slightly confused look appeared on his face.

“Well, that would explain why I don’t feel any pain anymore,” Harry said to no one in particular.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. “A simple, localized numbing charm. Quite effective at relieving such isolated pain, especially when there’s no serious physical damage that needs repairing. Though obviously it has a side effect. Not a popular remedy for married couples, or so I hear. Don’t worry, it will wear off eventually.”

Choosing to ignore the implications of those statements, Harry turned his attention to Hermione, still sitting on the floor and wearing a very guilty expression on her face. “Are you all right down there?” he asked her.

“Me? Yes, I’m fine. Are you okay? I am SO sorry Harry!” she said very apologetically.

Harry smiled slightly. He found her concern rather endearing. And it really looked kinda cute. “Yeah, all better now. But what about you? You haven’t gotten up yet. Did you hurt your leg when you landed or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just that when I saw you there, and saw what had happened, I just felt so awful that I didn’t move. Then Professor Dumbledore told me to look away. I guess I just never got around to standing up,” she admitted sheepishly.

Harry began to laugh. He had had his first personal introduction to a very obvious male vulnerability. He’d been very lucky in his first fifteen years, especially considering how much Quidditch he had played; he’d seen it happen to others, but never actually experienced it for himself. With the pain gone, now he could laugh about it.

“I’m the one who got hit, and you felt bad?” he asked in amusement. “I guess I should be glad it was only an accident. I’d hate to think what I’d feel if you ever got truly mad at me,” he said as he tried to control his laughter.

Hermione looked up at Harry; seeing him laugh like that allowed her to smile slightly. “So would I, Harry. So would I.”

With his laughter finally under control, he looked down at her and smiled again. He put his hands out in front of him towards her. “Come on, let’s go. Everyone’s waiting.”

Hermione grasped his hands firmly as she pulled herself up, As he felt her hands in his, Harry’s stomach begin to do flip flops. The last time he felt something like this was a few minutes earlier at Hermione’s house, right before the Portkey activated. And the time before that was all those months ago when Cho...

Pulling Hermione up (and fighting the almost instinctual desire to not let go of her hands), Harry wondered if that feeling was simply another side effect of the numbing charm. However, even Captain Oblivious knew that that charm was in effect over a place slightly lower on his body. Just like how deep down he knew that the Portkey activated after he felt that swooping sensation. But he had to believe those were just coincidences... for the only other possibility he could think of was just simply too... delusional.

With Hermione safely on her feet, and with the pain on his front side abated, Harry finally noticed the pain on his other side. As he discretely tried to massage his aching backside, upon which he had unceremoniously landed, he cast a quick look at the Hermione. She was attempting to do the same.

When he realized exactly where in the house he was, Harry immediately turned to where he knew the portrait of Mrs. Black was. He was surprised to find that in its place, or more accurately, in front of it, was a brand new curtain. It was tightly attached to the ceiling, floor and walls around Mrs. Black’s painting and her moth-eaten curtains.

“We still haven’t been able to remove her,” Dumbledore said behind Harry, startling him. He had forgotten that the Headmaster was there. Harry noticed that he had been doing that a lot lately: forgetting there were people in the room other than to whomever he had been talking. He also noticed that Dumbledore had been speaking at normal volume. Everyone usually whispered around Mrs. Black.

Right then, Harry heard Mrs. Weasley come up the stairs from the kitchen in the basement. “Harry and Hermione, dears. It’s so good to see you again,” Molly greeted them warmly, giving each of them a small hug. She then stepped back and took a closer look at Harry’s face.

“Are you okay, Harry?” she asked, concerned. “You look like you’ve been crying,” she said, then suddenly paled as she realized that she might have said the wrong thing.

Dumbledore immediately spoke up, chuckling. “Not to worry, Molly. Just some minor landing difficulties, that’s all.” Dumbledore then turned to Harry. “Speaking of which, Harry, unless you would care to recount for everyone what happened...” he said, taking out his wand again. Harry smiled and shook his head. Dumbledore flicked his wand at Harry’s face; his tear streaks and watery, red eyes immediately cleared.

Molly then turned to look at the curtain she had seen all three of them looking at when she entered the room.

“It’s so nice not having to listen to her anymore,” Molly said with a hint of relief in her voice. “It was Ron’s idea, actually... to put a silencing charm on her curtain. I’m not sure I want to know why he knew to suggest that...” she said, more so to herself. Harry kept his attention squarely on the curtain. Since every bed at Hogwarts was a four-poster with curtains (at least in the boys’ dormitories), hardly anyone ever mentioned “silencing charm” and “curtains” together in the same sentence. Harry wasn’t going to either.

“But anyway,” she continued. “We tried it, but her curtain refused to hold the spell. So we put up a second curtain around hers, and it worked perfectly. Peace and quiet ever since,” she said happily, but then added, “at least from her,” looking upstairs to where Harry assumed the rest of the Weasleys were assembled.

“Go on up, dears,” she encouraged Harry and Hermione. “I’ll be up in a minute. I just need to finish your cake.” Dumbledore, Molly, and Hermione all smiled when they saw Harry’s eyes light up at the mention of cake.

Harry then turned back to the Headmaster, who had moved unnoticed towards the stairs that led up to the drawing room.

“Shall we?” the Headmaster asked with a slight smile. Harry briefly looked back to Hermione; she smiled and nodded.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore. “We shall.”

Harry climbed the stairs, followed behind by Hermione, and then the Headmaster. As Harry opened the door at the top of the stairs, he immediately heard a dull murmur of voices; everyone was simply milling around, waiting for them to arrive. Before anyone was able to notice him, Harry took a quick look around the room to see who was there.

Indeed, everyone he had hoped would be there was, except of course for Neville, who was with his family. Harry was surprised to see Percy as well, sitting quietly in the emptiest corner of the room. He was talking with Remus. Harry noticed that everyone else seemed to avoid walking in that direction.

With Hermione and Dumbledore behind him, he had to take several more steps into the room to clear the doorway. His presence was detected on his third step.

“Harry!” Ron called out from the other side of the room. Harry turned to see Ron attempting to extract himself from what looked like an in-depth conversation with Luna Lovegood. He also noticed a small stampede of all the other guests heading toward him. He was immediately surrounded by a small armada of his friends. It took several minutes for Harry to get thorough all the greetings, handshakes, and hugs.

Finally, the crowd began to break up as Molly worked her way through it, calling out for everyone to give him some room; she was brandishing a frosting-covered wooden spoon at anyone who didn’t move fast enough.

When she reached Harry, she patted him on the back. “Well I see everyone knows you’re here now,” she said warmly, and then handed him the spoon. Harry noticed happily that Molly had obviously left a lot of frosting on the spoon. “Here you go, dear. Just finished.” As Molly turned back, she saw the four youngest Weasleys eyeing the spoon enviously.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned them. “It’s Harry’s birthday. He gets the spoon.” The four of them looked rather put out.

“I’m sure there’s a bowl somewhere that needs cleaning,” Harry suggested to them, holding the coveted spoon protectively. He noticed Ron inching forward slightly.

“Go on!” Molly said to the four frosting fanatics. “And while you’re down there, someone can clean that bowl properly once you’re through with it. And remember Ronald, Ginerva,” both cringed, “you’re both still underage, so you get your brothers to do it, or you do it yourself by hand. Bring the trays of lunch back with you. Fred, George, if you spill even a single item with one of your levitations...” she warned them.

All four of them immediately made a dash for the door. As they ran down the stairs, Molly suddenly remembered something and rushed to the door. “And if I find that so much as a fingerful of frosting has been pilfered from Harry’s cake, so help me, none of you will get any of it!” she shouted down to them as they ran to the stairs to the kitchen. Harry smiled as he heard someone groan at being denied that opportunity.

Molly then returned. “Well, that should take them about two minutes,” she said in good humor to Harry and Hermione. “Hurry up and eat that, dear, before they return. I can’t make any promises once they get back.” Molly smiled at both of them, then she went over to join Arthur, who was busy talking to Professor Dumbledore.

Harry took one great big lick of the spoon and was immediately in a chocolate-induced heaven. It was one thing to feel the effect of Honeyduke’s best after a dementor attack; it was another thing entirely to experience it when it had been whipped up and was in state where it so easily melted in your mouth. Three licks later, he had completely cleaned off the back of the spoon.

Deciding that something this amazing had to be shared, Harry turned to give the spoon to Hermione. He was a little surprised (and unnerved) to find that she looked as though she had been watching him intently the whole time he had been enjoying his treat.

“Here,” Harry told her, handing her the spoon, “absolutely brilliant! You have to try it.” He made sure to hold the spoon at the very bottom of the handle, to keep his hand out of the way of hers.

Hermione smirked slightly as she took the spoon. “Yeah, I could tell,” she said. Not wanting to intrude upon her chocolate bliss (and for other reasons also), Harry turned back to the group right as she began to lick the frosting from the bowl of the spoon.

Molly was right. About two minutes after the four youngest Weasleys departed for the kitchen, they returned, each carrying a large tray of food for lunch. Fred and George were carrying theirs. Harry assumed they were unwilling to take the risk of spilling anything.

After setting his tray down on one of the two large tables that had been set up in the drawing room, Ron came over to Harry.

“Blimey, mate. I’m sure glad you’re here finally,” Ron said to Harry, looking at the three other trays Fred, George, and Ginny also brought up. “We’ve all been going insane today, smelling everything that Mum’s been cooking. She wouldn’t even let...” he trailed off, then began to smirk at Harry now that he got a good look at him.

“Harry, where did you learn how to eat?” Ron said with a laugh. “You’ve got chocolate all over your mouth!”

“I learned by watching you,” Harry retorted.

“Touché,” Hermione said on Harry’s right.

“Ouch,” Ron conceded, still laughing.

Harry then turned to Hermione. “You knew?” he asked her, and then began to smirk as well. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a playfully hurt voice.

“Oh Harry, it was just too funny looking. Believe me, you’ll laugh about it later,” she told him.

“Oh, I know I will,” Harry replied mischievously. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

Ron then turned to Hermione also. “Yeah, Hermione. It’s not very nice to not tell someone when they...” Ron trailed off, then he began to laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ve got chocolate on you too,” Ron said very pleased, though his laughs had begun to subside. “You’re as bad as Harry. How could you two both get chocolate on your—?”

Ron suddenly stopped and then began to look back and forth curiously between the two of them. Harry suddenly sensed a possible “situation” developing with Ron. He recalled with great clarity how jealous Ron seemed to be when Hermione went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. Sure, Harry was pretty certain he could understand why Ron might get jealous of Viktor, but still, to go off half-cocked like he did was a little much, in his opinion.

Fortunately, Hermione stepped forward to save the day. As usual, Harry thought to himself fondly. She held up the now chocolate-free spoon she had been holding at her side. “Harry gave me the other half of his spoon. The frosting was very good. What did you think of it?” she asked Ron.

Whether it was the sight of the spoon or the mention of the frosting he had just sampled downstairs, Ron immediately began to yammer on about how much he loved it. It took everything Harry had to not start laughing at how easily Hermione was able to divert Ron’s attention away from them. Not that we had done anything, of course, Harry said to himself.

A few minutes later, Molly came over to Harry and gently shepherded him towards the second of the two tables. She then was able to silence the room with a very powerful clearing of her throat.

“Hem hem.” The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. It was scary how much she sounded like Professor Umbridge. Harry caught Hermione’s eye on the other side of the room and gave her an “I’m impressed” look, which she returned, smiling.

Like daughter, like mother, Harry said to himself, recalling when Ginny did the same thing in the Hog’s Head to distract Hermione from her “discussion” with Luna about the existence of Heliopaths.

“All right everyone. Now that we’re all here and the food is here, let’s give Harry his presents so we can all eat. I’ve already seen four people eyeing the fried chicken, so I think we’re pushing our luck to wait much longer.”

Molly then turned back to Harry. “Just set your presents down on that table and then you can open them after everyone has eaten,” she said cheerfully. “Somehow I doubt there will be any food left if you open them all now.”

Her head then snapped to the other side of the room where the food was. “Ronald!” she shouted. Ron withdrew his outstretched hand away from the small mountain of fried chicken.

“Yes, Mum,” he said sheepishly as his six other siblings began to snicker.

Molly then turned back to the group. “Okay everyone. It’s time...” she said in an unusual voice. Harry suddenly had the feeling that something was odd.

Are they planning something? Harry wondered.

As requested, Harry went over and stood next to the table. Once he was ready, everyone in the room began to gather in an informal line. Whether it was planned or not, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were at the head of the line.

“Mr. Harry James Potter,” the Headmaster said to Harry, but loud enough for all to hear. “Born in early afternoon, on this day as the seventh month came to a close, sixteen years ago. I will not bore you all by recounting some of Harry’s more embarrassing moments.” Ron, Fred, and George booed in the background. Dumbledore then chuckled slightly. “I will save the boredom for the start of term announcements.” Everyone in the room began to laugh.

“However I will say that no matter what Mr. Potter has in store for us in the future, one of my fondest memories will always be of the day he got me sacked, not just a few months ago,” the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling as most of room began to snicker. “It was quite a holiday for me, if I do say so myself. My only regret was that I missed all of the Weasley twins’ escapades... something about fireworks... and a swamp, if I got all the tales sorted out correctly?” He then turned back to Harry.

“Unfortunately, it would be considered rather inappropriate if staff were seen giving presents to some students and not others. So, please consider this as simply me making a delivery,” Professor Dumbledore said quietly as he handed Harry a parchment envelope; the wax seal was stamped with the emblem of the Ministry of Magic.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said as he shook Harry’s hand. As Harry turned to set the envelope on the table, the Headmaster stepped to the side and Professor McGonagall stepped in front of him.

“Happy birthday... Harry,” she also said as she shook his hand. As they were both unaccustomed to her using his given name, he nodded slightly and told her thanks, resulting in a half-smile from his Head of House.

Next in line were Arthur and Molly Weasley. As they came up to him, Harry happened to notice that Percy was several places back, looking very uncomfortable.

“Harry!” Arthur exclaimed. “You saved my life when you saw... well, you know what. What more do I need to say?” He paused for a moment. “Other than to say that I would be happy to call you our seventh son. Happy birthday!” Mr. Weasley shook his so vigorously that for a moment Harry was afraid he might lose his arm.

Before moving aside so his wife could get a shot at Harry, Arthur came in close and lowered his voice. “And we really do need to get together some time so you can explain what a credit card is.” Harry smiled and nodded.

As he turned back, Harry had time enough to see Molly come rushing forward with her arms stretched out. Uh-oh, he thought as she wrapped her arms around him. Fortunately, it wasn’t quite as fierce a grip as Hermione had on him when he first arrived at her house.

“Oh Harry, dear. I don’t want to battle on here too much,” she said, a little choked up. “Everyone is waiting in line behind me. Let me just say that you’re welcome to come over and have dinner with us any time you want to, free of charge of course,” she added with a smile, referring back to the thank you letter Harry sent her. “Happy birthday!” she cried as she hugged him again. When she handed him his present, a seam in the wrapping paper separated slightly; the wonderful smell that escaped foretold that it would not be around for long.

Next in line were Remus Lupin and Tonks... together, Harry noticed. Then again, he told himself, they must’ve come with each other since they were living together... in the same house, he hastily corrected. Shouldn’t jump to any conclusions, he chided. After all, Hermione and I are living together too. As those words passed through his mind, he felt his stomach surge as though he had hooked his foot on something very heavy, say... an anvil, and just barely caught himself on his other foot before falling. Yep, best keep those conclusions to myself, he thought as he tried to shake off the feeling.

All of this inner musing did have one drawback; he completely missed everything that Tonks had said to him. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have snapped out of it if she hadn’t given him a quick hug. “Happy birthday,” was all he heard her say.

Lupin was next; maybe later Harry could talk him into repeating what Tonks had said. “Harry,” he started after clapping him on the back, “you were born to two of the best friends a man could have. And you were godson to the third. They were all taken from you long before their time, but the love they had for you has obviously lived on, for here you are, standing before us all, ready to celebrate your sixteenth birthday.” Lupin was getting a little misty-eyed, as was Harry. “I, ahem, found this in Sirius’s room when I was in there a few weeks ago,” Remus choked out. “I know he would have wanted you to have it,” he said as he handed Harry a small present.

As Lupin and Tonks walked off to join the others who had already wished Harry well, Harry looked back to see that Percy was next. He still looked as uncomfortable as before. He quickly glanced past him to see Fred, George, and Ron all standing together, watching. Harry could not read the expressions on their faces.

“Well, hello there Harry,” Percy started uncertainly. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “I guess all I can say to you is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry for the things I said about you. And most of all, I’m sorry for that letter I wrote Ron. I was wrong about everything that mattered. I hope I’ll have the chance some day to start over with you.” Percy then stopped talking and stood there silently, staring at his feet.

Harry knew it must have humiliating for Percy to do this in front of everyone. As he listened to Percy say his piece, he remained undecided about what to do. It may have seemed heartless, but as far as Harry was concerned, he really didn’t care one way or the other if he and Percy reconciled their differences. What Harry did care about was whether Percy and the rest of his own family did.

Harry looked over Percy’s shoulder and glanced back at Arthur and Molly, who were standing near the back of the room. They had a mildly concerned look on their faces as they watched Percy talking to Harry. When Arthur saw Harry looking at him, he gave him a very slight nod that no one else saw.

With that, Harry made up his mind. He assumed that the worst blood had been with Arthur; if things were on the mend with him (maybe not fixed, but at least progressing), then Harry was more than willing to give Percy another chance. He stuck his hand out toward Percy. “I’m Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Percy Weasley.” Percy eagerly shook Harry’s hand, then he quickly retreated back to his empty corner of the room.

Next to greet Harry and bring their presents were Charlie, Bill, and Fleur. “Well, Harry. It seems that Charlie and I will have the easiest time here,” Bill said with a grin. “We really haven’t had much chance to get to know you other than what we hear from Ron and Ginny.”

Charlie then picked up. “And believe you me, those two aren’t the most reliable when it comes to telling us what a prat you really are,” he said as everyone began to laugh. “So, we’ll let you get away with just a Happy Birthday.” Both Bill and Charlie also shook Harry’s hand.

“Oh, ‘Arry,” Fleur cried as she came up to him. “I will never truly be able to zank you enough for ze bravery you showed when you rescued Gabrielle. I know now zat she was safe all ze time, ‘owever neizer of us knew zis at ze time. If you are ever in Francaise, please stop and visit. I know Gabrielle would be very ‘appy to see you again!”

For some unexplainable reason, Harry found himself glancing over at Hermione. She didn’t look entirely thrilled about something. Then again, she never really did look happy whenever Fleur was around, Harry thought to himself as he suddenly remembered some of the looks he caught on her face, like after the time Fleur kissed him when he rescued Gabrielle.

Harry’s remembrances were cut short as Fleur stepped forward and kissed him on both cheeks. “Joyeux Anniversaire! ... I mean, ‘Appy Birzday, ‘Arry!” she said, then stepped away with Bill after they set his present on the table. Again, Harry looked unexpectedly at Hermione. To his surprise however, he found that she was smiling. If her previous behavior, as he remembered it, was any indication, he expected that she wouldn’t be. But yet she was. Before he had anytime to think about it though, Hagrid came up next.

“I’s good ter see yeh again, Harry,” Hagrid said after giving him a slap on the back that nearly caused him to fall down. “I’ll never ferget the day I took yeh on Sirius’s ol’ bike ter ‘em horrible relatives of yehrs. ‘Bout broke me heart knowin’ yeh’d have ter spend so long with ‘em. An’ I can never thank yeh enough fer savin’ ol’ Beaky. Anytime yeh wan’ ter come’n visit’m, jus’ lemme know. Happy Birthday, Harry!” Hagrid then lifted a large sack of something up from behind him. As he set it down on the table, Harry distinctly heard the sound of solid, heavy objects rubbing against each other. Rock cakes? Harry thought to himself fearfully.

As Hagrid worked his way to the back of the room, Harry took a quick glance at the remainder of the informal line. All that were left were Fred and George, then Ron, Ginny, and Luna, then finally Hermione. Fred and George were up next.

“Harry, old pal,” Fred started (or was it George?). “We won’t stand up here all day and tell stories of how you saved us. Come to think of it. George,” Fred said to his brother, “I don’t think he ever has saved our lives.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that, Harry?” George asked in mock offense. “What? Are we not good enough to be saved?” he asked, trying to maintain a straight face.

Looking around the room, Harry saw that most everyone was trying not to smile. “No,” he replied, “I think you’re simply the smartest ones in the room. You’ve never needed to be saved.”

“You know what, Gred?”

“What, Forge?”

“I think he’s calling us chickens.”

“I do believe you’re right, dear brother.”

“Just you wait, Harry,” George warned teasingly. “One of these days you’re going to bite into the wrong piece of candy, and then we’ll all see who the chicken is around here.”

“Um, George,” Fred said in a stage whisper, nudging him with his elbow. “Those are Canary Creams. We don’t have anything that does chickens... yet.”

George’s face screwed up in concentration for a moment as he tried to remember something. After obviously being unsuccessful, he put on his earlier face of warning.

“Like I said,” George continued dramatically, “we’ll all see who the canary is around here!” Everyone in the room burst out laughing, even Percy. George then came up and clapped Harry on the back. “Happy birthday, Harry!”

Fred then stepped forward to wish Harry well also. At first, Harry thought Fred and George did not have a birthday present for him. While he was always ecstatic to get any present (after ten years of Dursley birthdays), he really didn’t care if he got one or not. What really was important to him was that they were there. Besides, they had already given him the Marauder’s Map, and that present would probably account for many birthdays worth of presents.

At the last second, Fred pulled a very small package out of his pocket. It was unlike any other of the other presents. “Wrapped in plain parchment for your privacy,” he said very quietly, and with a grin.

“We were thinking of making that a delivery option for our catalog... only one Sickle extra,” George beamed. He then took on a slightly devious grin. “Absolutely guaranteed, Harry.”

“Yeah, we, um, tested it ourselves,” Fred piped in, glancing awkwardly at his twin. George appeared to shudder slightly at some memory, then he promptly took one step away from Fred. Harry took the present and looked at it with trepidation. It was very small, probably no larger than a salt shaker. Knowing the source, this was either a very good sign, or a very bad sign. Harry decided to err on the side of caution; he very gingerly set it down on the table, as far as he could away from the rest of the presents.

Right before joining everyone in the back of the room, Fred and George quickly looked at each other with a grin then turned back to Harry.

“Oh, and Harry,” Fred said.

“About next year,” George finished.

“We solemnly hope that you will still be up to no good,” they both said simultaneously.

Ron was next. He looked about as uncomfortable as Percy did, though Harry suspected for different reasons. A pattern seemed to have emerged with everyone sharing some personal story. Ron really was never one for this kind of talk. He trudged up to Harry, his present under his arm. When Harry later looked back on this, he would admit that he was pleasantly surprised.

“Well mate. I don’t really know what to say. We’ve been best mates since the day we met on the train. We’ve survived trolls, spiders, dementors, Death Eaters, Snape, and even a bossy know it all,” Ron said with a laugh. For some reason, Harry didn’t think it was quite as funny as Ron did; it was worth a grin, but not a laugh, he thought.

He glanced over Ron’s shoulder and caught Hermione’s eye. When she saw him, she shook her head slightly with hint of a smile as she rolled her eyes. Harry shot a quick grin back at her, and then returned his attention to Ron who was still talking.

“—than a bouncing ferret,” Ron finished with a happy sigh as he recalled one of his favorite memories of all time. Everyone else in the room began to chuckle, so Harry, who really hadn’t been paying attention, forced one as well.

Ron’s face then became serious. “Harry, for almost five whole years, you’ve been the best mate a bloke could have. Happy birthday, Harry!” Ron said before giving him a quick one-armed hug (he was still holding the present).

From somewhere in the back of the room, Harry heard one of the two twins shout out as Ron handed Harry his present. “Okay now Ronniekins, give him his birthday snog.” As everyone else in the room (except Ron and Harry) sniggered, Harry could see both Fred and George ducking as they tried to escape the reach of a determined, though smiling, Molly.

Adding Ron’s present to the ever growing pile on the table, Harry could not help but notice how heavy the present felt for its size. Acutely aware of how heavy Hermione’s was, he thought to himself, He didn’t get me one too, did he?

Now that Ron had rejoined the rest of the group in the back of the room (standing so that Molly was between him and the twins), only Ginny, Luna, and Hermione remained. Harry noticed how the three of them seemed overly happy. Well, truth be told, Luna looked to be her normal dreamy self. But Ginny and Hermione definitely seemed to be looking forward to something.

As he looked around the room, Harry could not help but notice that every single other person in the room wore a knowing smile on their faces, as though they were expecting that something was about to happen, something that Harry was obviously not clued in on.

Harry looked again at Hermione. She, more than anyone else, seemed to be wearing the largest grin. “Well, I didn’t think it seemed too out of line,” he remembered her saying the day before. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he was about to find out very shortly.

Ginny stepped forward; she seemed to be having a bad case of the blushes. It wasn’t however, quite as bad as Hermione had, he recalled, when he kissed her cheek after letting his emotions get away from him after receiving his O.W.L.s.

As Ginny began to speak, Harry noticed that her lip began to tremble slightly. “You came after me when I was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. You killed the basilisk, and destroyed Riddle’s diary and him at the same time. You saved my life. Me, who had been chasing you around all year. You, who had been running from me chasing you. And yet you still risked you life to save mine.

“And then this last year, you started the D.A.—” and Hermione, Harry thought to himself a little defensively, it was her idea, “—so that we all could learn how to defend ourselves after that fraud made it clear that she wasn’t going to teach us anything,” Ginny said more confidently, now that her determination had begun to replace her embarrassment.

“At the Ministry, we were outnumbered two-to-one by Death Eaters, but what we learned from you kept us alive until the Order arrived.” As soon as she said it, Ginny winced slightly as she realized that she was indirectly mentioning Sirius. She paused for a moment. Harry suspected that she had something more to say, but was debating whether or not to, after bringing up Sirius.

In the end, she must have decided against it for she immediately regained her determined face and put on a smile. “Happy birthday, Harry!” she exclaimed as she handed him her present. As he took it, she fixed him with a very piercing stare. When he saw this, he suddenly felt very exposed, as though he was being observed and judged by everyone, which really wasn’t that far from the truth.

When Ginny saw the slightly confused, slightly fearful look on Harry’s face, a delighted smirk appeared on her face. “Don’t worry, Harry. I won’t kiss you like Fleur did,” she assured him.

Harry, who had been thinking nothing of the kind as he set her present down on the table, was about to ask what she meant when he very unexpectedly found out exactly what she meant. In what seemed to Harry like super fast motion, Ginny rushed forward, put her hands on his face to hold him in place, and then gave him an intense kiss on the lips.

When she finally released him, she stepped back, and blushing brightly, told him, “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Harry!” She seemed very breathless as she said it, though Harry seemed to be okay in the oxygen department. As she walked hurriedly to the back of the room to join a very satisfied looking Ron, Fred, and George, Harry replayed the scene in his mind to try to figure out exactly what had just happened.

He recalled her wishing him a happy birthday, then, something he missed the first time, he heard one of the twins shout out “Do it!” She then stepped forward and kissed him. Though it was a regular closed-mouth kiss, he could remember feeling that there was some eagerness by Ginny behind it.

As he recalled the feeling of Ginny’s lips on his, he was surprised to realize that it didn’t at all feel awkward or unpleasant, like he imagined kissing a sister would be. On the contrary, it reminded him a great deal of how it felt when he kissed Cho Chang; it was rather nice, actually. Though his experience was limited, Harry knew enough to know that kissing was quite an enjoyable sensation.

At the same time, however, he realized that it was different also. Unlike when he kissed Cho, all of those many months ago, there was no swooping sensation in his stomach. There was no lurch in his insides that told him that the kiss meant something to him. There was nothing, except simply the pleasant feeling of a warm pair of lips pressed against his.

As his mind returned to the living room of Grimmauld Place, Harry realized that he in fact did not consider Ginny a sister, at least in that way; at the same time however, and with a small amount of inexplicable satisfaction, he also knew that he didn’t have any feelings for her in that way either.

Harry’s thoughts suddenly shifted to Hermione. She knew what he had said earlier about Ginny being like a sister. As he looked at Hermione, he was surprised to see that she had a large grin on her face. That didn’t make any sense. As far as Hermione knew, Harry had just been given an intense kiss by his sister, and she seemed amused, almost excited.

He then remembered what she had said the other day about his party. She knew something was going to happen. Was this it? As he looked around the room, everyone was wearing quite satisfied grins on their faces, as though they had all been waiting to see this; Fred and George were even chuckling.

Harry looked back to Hermione, who was still standing behind Luna. When she saw him looking at her, wordlessly trying to ask if this was what she was talking about when she mentioned being out of line, she merely smiled even wider and wagged her eyebrows as if to say... well, actually, Harry didn’t know what she was trying to say. All he knew for sure what that there was some message hidden in there. He would have to ask her later.

Luna stepped forward next, holding her thin present. The way her unblinking eyes stared at him, he felt as though she was looking right through him and seeing the wall behind him. “Hello, Harry,” she said in an airy voice. “I was told that I was supposed to do this. Everyone said it was tradition. I’ll admit it’s not one I’m familiar with, but who am I to decide that it’s strange? So, I’ll just play my part, and wish you well on this fine day.”

As Luna handed Harry his present, Harry began to wonder what exactly she had been talking about. What was tradition? Harry asked himself. And why is Ginny making a wolf-whistle?

Harry’s consideration of what exactly Luna meant and what Ginny was doing was brought to an abrupt halt when Luna stepped forward and gave him a very nice kiss on the lips as well. When she finally stepped back a second or two later, she looked at him again. “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Harry.”

If Harry was surprised by Ginny’s kiss, then he was even more so by Luna’s. Was this was Hermione had been hinting about? Harry wondered to himself. That they would be giving me birthday snogs? Now that he thought about it like that, he remembered one of the twins shouting “Give him his birthday snog,” to Ron. If everyone knew that the girls were planning this, it would certainly explain a few things.

While he hadn’t been expecting what Ginny did, he at least thought he knew why she kissed him. In fact, now that he thought about it, he noticed that there wasn’t that little something extra in Luna’s kiss that there was in Ginny’s... something that suggested feelings behind it.

What Luna may have lacked in emotional investment, she certainly made up for with skill. Luna, to Harry’s immense surprise, was a very good kisser. He didn’t know much about her personal life, but he assumed that she didn’t have much practical experience. If that was the case, then she certainly had natural born talent, not to mention very nice lips.

As pleasurable an experience as it was, again, he noticed that while even now he still felt a slightly tingling sensation in his lips, there was no tingly feeling in his chest, like the one he had felt so long ago, so many miles away.

Harry looked around the room again. Everyone looked quite pleased with Luna’s second gift... except Ron, however. After having just watched his best mate being snogged by Loony Lovegood, Harry expected to see Ron in riotous laughter. Instead, if anything, he seemed confused by... something. Maybe Ron didn’t know what was planned, Harry wondered.

Harry finally again looked at Hermione. She was certainly looking like the cat that ate the canary. She knew! She knew all along that this was what they were going to do! Harry said to himself amused. He felt as though she had outsmarted him somehow, even though he didn’t know that there was anything going on between them.

Payback time, Harry said to himself. Hermione was next; she was the last one, actually. If Hermione had been aware of the plot, then it seemed perfectly logical that she was going to kiss him also. A slightly devious smile appeared on Harry’s face. He remembered how much she blushed when he accidentally kissed her after reading his O.W.L.s. He would have to make this a kiss for her to remember... strictly for payback, of course.

Harry saw Hermione return his devious smile when she realized that he knew what was coming. He was so intent on trying to figure out what he should do that he missed a quiet voice in his head asking, Payback for what?

Finally, everyone in the room settled down. Everyone had been very quiet as they listened to what each person had to say. With the second of Harry’s two best friends ready to speak, everyone was most anxious. Hermione stepped forward in front of Harry.

Hermione stood there for a moment, without saying anything. She smiled lightly, as if to break the ice. Harry returned the smile.

“Being the last one, Harry,” Hermione started, addressing the room more so than Harry directly, “it’s given me a chance to see a pattern emerging. Harry saved the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry saved Mr. Weasley. Harry saved Buckbeak, and Sirius, for that matter.” Harry felt a surge of something as Hermione mentioned saving Sirius from a dementor’s kiss.

He expected that he’d feel bad being reminded that Sirius was now gone. All he could remember right now however, was seeing him alive in Flitwick’s office that night, knowing that he was safe as they flew away with Buckbeak. He remembered how tightly Hermione had been holding on to him, all the while muttering how much she didn’t like flying. An irony suddenly struck an amused Harry: Hermione didn’t like flying and she lived on Broomhill Road. Harry’s wandering mind was reigned in as Hermione began to speak again.

“Harry saved Gabrielle and Ron from the merpeople,” Hermione continued. “Of course they weren’t in any danger, but he didn’t know that. Harry saved Ginny and destroyed the memory of Riddle. Harry battled wand to wand with—” she looked left and right as if to look at everyone behind her, and then winked at Harry and grinned, “You-Know-Who. Not only did he survive, but he also brought Cedric back home to his parents. And then, just a few months ago, he faced him again and came out alive, once more.

“I once told him that he had a saving-people thing. Whatever my intentions at the time had been—” Harry smiled slightly as remembered that discussion; he could smile this time because he knew that she’d been right, all along, “he’s certainly been able to prove that it’s true over the years. And well earned, I might add.”

“Yes, it certainly seems that Harry here IS the hero.” She took a half step forward. He knew he was jumping the gun, but he could not help but look at her lips before she continued to speak. When she did continue, even though he could not hear any change in her voice, for some reason he felt as though she was speaking directly to him and him alone, even though the room was full of people. Her voice sounded exactly the same as it did just a few seconds ago, but yet... somehow, it just felt softer for some reason.

“He’s gotta be strong. Facing Voldemort five times? Yeah, I’d say so.” Harry assumed that most everyone in the room had shuddered when Hermione spoke Voldemort’s name, but somehow he didn’t notice anyone else’s reaction.

“He’s gotta be fast. Getting the golden egg from the Hungarian Horntail with your Firebolt? Yep.

“He’s gotta be fresh from the fight. Breaking down my door because you thought I was in trouble? Most definitely.” A huge grin and a slight blush appeared on Hermione’s face.

“He’s gotta be larger than life. Jumping on the back of a fully-grown mountain troll? Absolutely.

“The song said I’m holding out for a hero. Well, it’s wrong. I already found my hero.” Harry blinked a couple times. His eyes were beginning to feel slightly warm. He looked back at Hermione. Her eyes seemed to have a slight sparkle to them also, though she looked happier than he could ever remember seeing her.

She took another half step forward. Again, he found his gaze being drawn to her lips. He knew what was coming. “Harry,” Hermione said unevenly, “you’ve saved my life more times than I care to remember. And believe me, once is one time too many. You ARE my hero. Thank you. Happy birthday,” she said quietly.

Hermione handed Harry his present for the first time (that other time, it just seemed to fall out of the sky and land in his lap, literally); it was still as heavy as he remembered it.

He knew what was about to happen. She had kissed him before in fourth year; he kissed her just this week. This would be just the same... no big deal. Right?

As he turned to set the present down on the table, he thought for a moment about what he could do to make good on his plan, to make it a kiss for her to remember, since he seemed intent on getting payback. Again, he missed the voice nearly shouting, FOR WHAT?

She had known that the other two girls were going to sneak their kisses in. He couldn’t just simply stand there and let her kiss him without doing something. It would have been like letting her have her seat on the sofa without even trying. Sure, it had been a while since he actually tried to sit there, but he at least had been pretending to try to take it all along, just for fun.

So, what could he do? He knew it was just a birthday kiss, so he couldn’t do anything too dramatic. Plus, everyone was watching. Oh well, he told himself, maybe I’ll just think of something when the time comes.

Harry set the present down and turned back to face Hermione. She took another half step forward. There was now only two feet or so between them. Hermione looked at Harry; Harry looked at Hermione. This was it.

But now that the moment was here, all he could feel was his insides tearing themselves apart in anticipation, as though there were some monster in there like in that movie Dudley loved to watch. He was quite unprepared for the intensity of it. It was like nothing he had ever felt in his life.

“Do it!” Harry heard one of the twins shout.

Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes. She was standing there, staring at him, smiling. Am I supposed to do this, or is she? he wondered. Ginny and Luna did all the work. Harry was just an unwitting passenger along for the ride. But now that he knew, was he supposed to do it?

“Come on... do it!” he heard the other twin plead in a teasing voice.

Hermione took yet another small step forward. She looked as though this was exactly what she wanted, and yet she seemed nervous about it too.

“Hermione,” Harry started.

“Go for it, Hermione” Ginny cheered in the background while Harry was still talking.

“Everyone is watching,” Harry continued. A determined smile appeared on Hermione’s face as she heard Ginny. “I think they’re all waiting for you—”

“Harry? Just shut up and kiss me,” she said in a very matter of fact tone, still grinning from Ginny’s exhortation.

“As you wish,” Harry replied, quoting that oft-used response to being given an order in Emma’s favorite movie. Hermione smiled, then she closed the remaining distance between them.

---

A/N: Oh, I am in SO much trouble! Heh heh heh. I seem to remember saying something back in Chapter 4 about not having cliffhangers. Hmmm... Looks like I was wrong! :-P

Also, a big nod to MapleMountain (again) and his totally awesome story, Keeping A Promise, for the “Just shut up and kiss me,” line. I know you’ve told me before that you’re not the first person to use that line, but you are where I got the idea from. As soon as I decided to start writing, I knew I wanted to have that line in here at least once. Maybe even more than once....

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: When I first started writing this section, the song “Where My Heart Will Take Me” immediately popped into my mind.

First and foremost, thanks to my beta MapleMountain. I felt like such an idiot after posting Chapter 13. I borrowed the “Just shut up and kiss me” line from his story. I had been waiting thirteen long chapters to be able to finally use it, and when I did, I forgot to credit him. Sure, I went back and fixed it, but not before most everyone already read it.

We’ve seen a little father/son talk with Dan and Harry. Now we’ll get a chance to see a mother/daughter talk.

I truly believe that everything here is completely in character, even though we’ve never seen anything like it in canon. (Then again, there were certain parts of HBP that I didn’t think were based on canon, so what do I know? ) Remember, we’re dealing with teenagers. It would be unbelievable if they didn’t deal with these things. The real question is how do they act upon what they are feeling. As a wise man once said, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

Remember, real life... PG-13...

Chapter 14. Where My Heart Will Take Me.

“Harry? Just shut up and kiss me,” she said in a very matter of fact tone, still grinning from Ginny’s exhortation.

“As you wish,” Harry replied, quoting that oft-used response to being given an order in Emma’s favorite movie. Hermione smiled, then she closed the remaining distance between them.

It was a very curious sensation. Harry watched as Hermione smiled after he quoted The Princess Bride. He was surprised he thought of that, actually; it was the first thing to pop into his mind. She then took that last step toward him. That was when things really started to get strange.

For lack of a better description, Harry felt as though time itself began to slow down the closer Hermione got to him. He could see her hair sway in slow motion as she moved forward. There was only a foot separating them, and yet it seemed as though it took an eternity for her to reach him.

Hermione finally began to close her eyes as she tilted her head slightly. He recalled when Cho kissed him under the mistletoe back in the Room of Requirement. It was the first time he had ever kissed anyone. It was true that Hermione had kissed him on the cheek the year before, but he hadn’t kissed her back.

Harry recalled with great clarity (What’s the saying? Hindsight is 20/20?) how awkward it was with Cho. He had absolutely no idea what to do. He had never done that before. It certainly didn’t help any that she had been crying. Ron was right! What kind of girl cries when you kiss her?! Honestly! At least Hermione isn’t crying! Heh heh... she looks happy, actually...

What was I talking about? Harry wondered to himself. He was quite unnerved how much his mind was wandering. If anything, he’d describe it as babbling. Oh yeah! Hermione. She had tilted her head slightly so that their noses wouldn’t crash together. Wish I had known that last year, Harry thought with some regret. This is really bizarre how everything seems like it’s in slow motion.

Hermione was now so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her face. With the time finally at hand, Harry decided it would be better if he closed his eyes also. Ginny’s and Luna’s kisses had come so suddenly that Harry didn’t have time to close his eyes. They’d both closed their eyes, but he hadn’t. Strictly from a practical standpoint, it was very uncomfortable trying to look at someone when they were literally one inch away from your face.

With his eyes now closed, Harry felt as though he was on autopilot. He could no longer see Hermione, and yet, somehow, he knew exactly where she was, down to the millimeter. He heard her take a breath at the last moment, one last chance to stockpile oxygen. Harry did so as well.

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally felt Hermione’s lips upon his. In that moment, the entire universe stopped. The monster of anticipation clawing away at his insides disappeared. His restless mind silenced. He was even pretty sure the beating of his own heart stopped. There was nothing except his lips and Hermione’s.

Ever since the moment he realized that Hermione was going to kiss him, he had planned to do... something. He couldn’t simply stand there and just let her kiss him without doing something. She had known, after all, that the other two... whose names he couldn’t recall for some reason... were going to kiss him.

And yet, now... he found that that was exactly what he was doing. All of his intentions, all of his plans, they were all swept away the instant her lips touched his. At first, Harry felt a sense of exhilaration. He had to admit, kissing was very nice... whether it be Cho, Ginny, Luna, or Hermione.

But this... this felt different somehow, different than the other three. Maybe it was because he knew it was coming. Maybe it was because he had time to prepare for it. For some reason, this whole thing... kissing Hermione... it seemed to stretch out forever. He had time to feel it. He was ready for it.

And then suddenly, without warning, he realized why this felt different. He WAS ready for it, for this.

As the kiss continued, Harry became aware of a simple truth: this made sense. It didn’t make sense that it made sense... and yet... it made sense.

When Cho kissed him, it was nice, to be honest, but everything about the situation had been awkward. He was terrified, paralyzed. He felt as though he had been put on the spot by standing under the mistletoe. She had been crying. And to top it all off, she was crying because of Cedric. She said she really liked me, and yet she kept thinking about him... kept bringing HIM up.

It was a little better when Ginny and Luna kissed him. It had all happened so suddenly that all he really had time for was to feel it... to feel the sensations of them kissing him. Only afterwards did he have a chance to think about what had happened. Even then, it was just how Ginny wasn’t his sister, how... skilled... Luna was. But that was it.

As he stood there, kissing Hermione, he suddenly realized that he did enjoy it... but not in a way that he expected. Before their lips actually made contact, Harry never really got around to thinking about what might happen or what he might do. He assumed that it would be just like kissing the other two.

But this... here... now... it was all different. He felt as though he had all the time in the world to think about what was happening, to analyze the situation. But instead, all he did was stand there and enjoy it while it lasted.

It made sense. Those words never actually crossed through his conscious mind. It was simply a feeling that penetrated his entire body... a state of understanding, a feeling of completeness, a sense of security that one felt only when things made sense.

It was at this point that Harry did something he would wonder if he would regret. Until now, he had simply stood there and let Hermione kiss him. As that sense of security grew, he knew that he could not let go of it. And so he began to return the kiss.

He didn’t really know exactly what was different about it; he didn’t know if he actually did anything different, physically. Maybe it was simply a matter of intention. He wanted to kiss Hermione. He knew that he shouldn’t. He knew that this was just some meaningless birthday snog. But every instinct in his being told him that he had to kiss Hermione. So he did.

As he began (in his mind, at least) to return the kiss, he vaguely became aware of the fact that he was still in a room filled with people. Everyone was watching them. He wanted desperately to be able to kiss her like he had seen in Emma’s favorite movie. But he knew he couldn’t. So he focused all of his attention on finishing this one kiss. He had gone into it intending it to be something for Hermione to remember. How surprised he was to find out that it was now something for him to remember.

Finally, after what seemed like years, he felt... well, sensed, actually, the strength of Hermione’s kiss decrease slightly, then grow even stronger for the briefest of moments. In Harry’s addled mind, it was as if she moved to break the kiss, then decided to kiss him again, even more intensely. Shortly after that, he felt his lips grow cold. So cold and alone.

He opened his eyes to see that Hermione had begun to step back away from him, her eyes still closed. As she stepped away, Harry felt and heard a great rush of sight and sound, as though he had been thrown back into the normal flow of time.

He quickly looked around the room. Everyone was looking at him exactly the same as when he kissed Ginny and Luna... looks of amusement and satisfaction. No one watching them seemed aware that anything had happened out of the ordinary. Harry was absolutely sure that if anyone suspected even a fraction of what had been racing through his mind, someone would have said something, whether in lecture, anger, or ridicule. But no one seemed nonplussed by any of it.

No one, that is, except Hermione. When Harry finally looked back at Hermione, he found that she was staring at him intently, with a slight look of confusion (and possibly fear?) on her face. Harry’s stomach felt as though it fell to his feet.

She knew! Harry said to himself in panic, though he struggled to maintain a brave face. Somehow she knew! Harry was scared. He himself didn’t know exactly what was going on, but it was obvious she already knew... whatever it was.

Hermione’s POV...

Hermione was scared, though she tried not to show it. She had been so eager to give Harry his birthday kiss. She promised herself that she wouldn’t get carried away. Harry didn’t fancy her. He couldn’t. She never really expected that she’d ever get the chance to kiss him the way she had wanted to for so long.

But then Ginny wrote to her, asking what they should do for Harry’s sixteenth birthday. Unbeknownst to Harry, she and Ginny had written back and forth daily, sometime with Pig, sometimes with Hermes (it seemed as though Ron had been doing some letter writing as well, according to Ginny). Hermione had told Ginny that Harry didn’t really want anything extravagant... it was more important to him who was there than what they did.

Quite at the last minute, yesterday to be exact (when Hermione nearly had a heart attack from seeing Harry trying to read the letter), Ginny suggested that since they weren’t going to do anything else special, it’d be fun to give Harry a Sweet Sixteen birthday snog. If it were any other person, Hermione would’ve refused without even giving it a first thought. But she couldn’t refuse this.

Even though she knew that Harry didn’t think of her in that way, some part of her still clung to the hope that if the day ever came when Harry saw her differently, things might change. The fairy tale princess in her hoped that she might be able to “wake him up” with a magical kiss.

Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to kiss him. Well... to be honest, that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to snog him senseless. But THAT was an entirely different matter all together. Still, some small part of her hoped that maybe if she was able to break through to him, he’d see her as someone other than the “bucktooth, bushy-haired, bossy, bookworm know-it-all” that she believed everyone thought her to be.

Even though her teeth were fixed over a year ago, anytime her self-doubt wanted to reassert itself, it always managed to summon that painful alliteration that had managed to ingrain itself upon her mind at her other school all those years ago... before Hogwarts, before Harry.

Despite everything that her heart told her, her mind was able to keep herself in line. Harry didn’t fancy her. If she just went up to him and started snogging him, it would ruin everything. At the very least, she’d scare him to death. And he might even get mad at her. That would destroy any chance she might’ve ever had with him. Even worse, he might not want to be her friend anymore. How awkward would it be for him to be around her if he knew how she truly felt about him?

That was what scared her most of all: losing her best friend. She could deal with not being able to be with Harry the way she wanted to; she’d done it for two years now. The only reason it was even bearable was because Harry was still her best friend. If Harry didn’t want to be around her anymore because he felt uncomfortable, it would absolutely and totally devastate her. She knew how he felt about being around Ginny when she still fancied him. And she’d had a front row seat (much to her secret delight) for the end of Cho.

So now... now that she had given Harry his birthday kiss, as she stepped back from him, she looked at him and realized what she had done. She went too far. The moment her lips touched his, she felt herself being swept away. Even though he was just standing there, she could feel her entire heart pouring out of her and into him in her kiss. And then she felt it.

Harry did... something. She had no idea what, but she could feel a change in the way his lips felt. Part of her, the part that believed in elf-rights, in S.P.E.W., the part of her that other people might call delusional... that part of her hoped that he was kissing her back. But the rest of her told her that Harry must have realized what she was feeling.

She knew going in that she was too eager for this. She knew that there was a very likely possibility that Harry would realize that this wasn’t any ordinary kiss, that it meant something to her. And when she felt him do whatever he did, she knew it was all over. As panic began to flood into her, she moved to break the kiss.

At the last moment however, she felt like her heart was breaking, so she had to kiss him just one last time. She feared it might be the last time she would ever be near him again. Before breaking contact, she kissed him again, putting everything she had into it (at least, as much as she could without opening her mouth).

When she finally looked at him, he wasn’t meeting her eyes. He was looking everywhere in the room, except at her. When he finally did look at her, she could see fear in his eyes. He knew! At that moment, she knew that Harry must have known how she felt about him... and he was afraid. She had done exactly what she had promised herself that she wouldn’t do... exactly what her mother advised against.

Flashback to Harry’s first day at the Grangers’...

Hermione stood there, watching Harry trying to figure everything out. “You said there’s a new Fidelius Charm in place protecting me here? But your parents couldn’t tell me where I was staying. Who’s the Secret Keeper?”

Hermione had been waiting for what seemed like forever for this moment to arrive... ever since Professor Dumbledore agreed to move Harry to her house. It only made it better when he asked how it was all possible. Somehow, she hoped that by telling him that this was all her doing, it would somehow change how Harry looked at her. Well, that and the terribly uncomfortable T-shirt she was wearing. Suddenly, she noticed Harry’s expectant, yet puzzled look and realized he had asked her a question.

Fighting to keep the huge grin on her face from taking over, she replied very quickly, “I am.”

A few moments later, the water began to boil and the tea kettle whistled; Harry visibly jumped. It was just so funny to see how startled he was, it took everything she had not to start laughing right then and there. As they all went to sit down and her father transferred the water to a teapot, everyone finally began to laugh from Harry’s jump.

Hermione watched very closely as Harry laughed. She couldn’t really remember the last time she saw him laughing like that. That sight alone caused her heart to flutter; it made everything worth it. Writing that letter to Harry, arguing with the Headmaster. Even all of fifth year seemed worth it now... now that she saw Harry laughing out loud.

As stopped laughing, Harry stared down at the tea cup in front of him. Hermione watched him intently, trying to figure out what he was feeling. Harry began to smile slightly. She didn’t know if it was from what he was feeling or if he just now noticed the school crest on the cup. As Emma slowly poured the hot water into Harry’s tea cup, Hermione suddenly noticed that her mother had seen her watching Harry. She quickly turned her gaze back to Harry, only to see him look up at her. She knew she had been caught... worst of all, by both of them.

Hermione watched as her father put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and led him into the living room. “Come on, Harry, let’s get you settled in,” he said as they left the living room. Hermione stayed at the table. She knew her mother wanted to talk to her.

Hermione watched Harry as he picked up Hedwig’s cage. She could hear him talking to his owl; he spoke so softly that she couldn’t make out the words. He looked happy though. That was all that mattered. He then reached in and petted her head.

Hermione continued to watch as he moved out of sight (there was no point in hiding it from her mother now), finally going upstairs with her father. When she was sure the two of them were out of earshot, she turned back and looked at her hands, which she had set on the table top in nervousness.

“So, tell me,” Emma began, now that they were alone and Hermione had indicated that she was ready to listen, “how far gone are you?”

Hermione tried not to laugh. Her mother was almost always able to read her perfectly. “Am I that obvious?” Hermione asked in amused defeat.

“Only to me and your father... and only because we’ve read every single letter you’ve ever sent us from school,” Emma answered with a slight smile. Hermione felt better knowing that her mother could at least smile about it.

“You do realize that in the last five years, you’ve never sent us a single letter that didn’t mention Harry in one way or another?” Emma asked in good humor.

Hermione shook her head since she didn’t realize she had done that, but then smiled since she really wasn’t at all surprised that she had.

“The funny thing is... it was your father who first noticed it,” Emma explained. Hermione looked at her in surprise.

“The first few letters we received, we didn’t think anything one way or the other about him. He was, after all, just some boy you read about in a book. And then later, he was just the friend of another boy who was mean to you. And then he was some boy who saved your life.” Emma chuckled slightly.

“Even though we were terrified to hear about the troll incident, Harry still just seemed like another classmate of yours,” Emma explained. “But then Quidditch season started. When you wrote the letter mentioning Harry’s first game—not Gryffindor’s first game, Harry’s—your father said to me, ‘The day our daughter becomes interested in sports is the day there’s a boy in her life.’” Both Emma and Hermione laughed lightly.

“With every letter you wrote, we knew he was something special to you. It didn’t seem like you had any... feelings for him, yet, but we knew he was different than everyone else. When you came home for Christmas first year, you told us all about him. We were so happy for you. We knew things hadn’t been going as smoothly at your other school.”

Hermione smiled. “I remember that,” she said fondly, “telling you all about Harry and Quidditch and my classes.”

“In that order too, as I recall,” Emma added with a smirk. Hermione turned slightly pink, but it quickly passed.

“I know that Harry is very special to you,” Emma prodded gently. “When we agreed to allow Harry to stay here, we knew that you quite probably did have more than just friendly feelings for him. And we were willing to trust your intentions. But what I just witnessed a few moments ago suggests that maybe there’s a little more going on than we realized. So, to my original question: how far gone are you?”

Hermione sighed then stared at her hands for a moment. “Mum?” she asked, not looking up, “how did you know when you were in love with Dad?”

Emma’s head dropped slightly. “I see,” she said. The way Emma said it, Hermione couldn’t tell if she was happy, sad, or even angry. She had to try to explain herself a little better.

“How did you know that it was more than just some schoolgirl crush? Harry... He... I...” She paused and then sighed as she collected her thoughts, and then continued “All I know is that he’s more than just my best friend... at least to me.” Hermione then finally looked up at her mother.

Hermione could see a wide variety of emotions on her mother’s face. But most of all there was happiness mixed with guarded concern. “Well,” Emma started, a little uncertain of where to begin with her daughter, “why don’t you tell me a little more about you and Harry?”

“Well, you already know most everything there is to know,” Hermione began. “I’m sure I’ve given you his life history in my letters over the last five years. He’s my best—”

“No,” Emma interrupted, “tell me about you and Harry,” she clarified.

Hermione nodded, then looked down at her hands as she wrung them nervously.

“Perhaps I should start at the beginning,” Hermione suggested; Emma nodded with a slight smile. “It all started on the train ride into school. One of the other students lost his pet toad, so I was helping him look for it. I walked in on a small, bespectacled little boy who was watching his new friend try to cast a spell. It wasn’t a real spell, of course.

“Somehow I knew that he was just like me, from a non-magical family. I could just see the wonder and excitement in his eyes as he watched Ron wave his wand around. He seemed rather put out when nothing happened.” Hermione paused for a moment then smiled slightly. “Then again, that could have just been from me. I, ah, seem to remember coming across as rather abrasive with Ron. Little did I know that it would mark the beginning of five years of abrasion with Harry’s other best friend,” Hermione chuckled in good humor.

“The school year began to progress,” Hermione continued. “I began to notice how I was starting to drift away from my classmates. I just felt like I had to prove myself against everyone else who came from magical families.” Hermione looked up at her mother to see her grinning at her. Emma then looked at her wrist as if to check the time.

“Yes, yes, I know. I know. Harry. Get to Harry. I’m just trying to put it into context,” Hermione explained exasperated, though with a smile. She knew her mother was just teasing... but not by much. Hermione could easily sit there all night recounting the story if she wasn’t prodded along a little.

“The point was,” Hermione said, mock-glaring at her mother, “that Harry and I weren’t friends, but at least he didn’t seem to dislike me like I felt everyone else did.” She paused to take a deep breath. “And then came Halloween. I already told you about the troll, and what Harry did. But I never told you how I felt afterwards.

“I was absolutely terrified. I just knew I was going to die right there. And then he went and jumped on the troll’s back. Ron was the one who knocked it out with its own club, but I’ll never forget the sight of Harry hanging there on that troll’s back. To a small, petrified, twelve year old girl, seeing him like that, risking his own life to save mine, with literally no thought beforehand whatsoever of the risk to himself, he just seemed... larger than life. I know it seems so cliché, but that’s how I felt. Harry was the hero who saved my life.

“From that point on, we were friends. All three of us,” Hermione quickly added. “He was just a friend. Then, at the end of the year, he went to face Quirrell and Voldemort. I was so scared that I might lose him, my first real friend. I practically jumped on him, hugging him. I told him I thought he was a great wizard. You know what he said?” she asked her mother, who shook her head.

“He told me that he thought I was better than he was. ‘Books! And cleverness!’ I told him. ‘Friendship and bravery’ were more important, I said. I knew then that Harry was different, that he was special to me, more than just a friend. But I didn’t know why.” Hermione looked back down at her hands and smiled, slightly embarrassed at the memory.

“I really wasn’t interested in boys yet, so he was just special, somehow. I guess that’s when I started to consider him my best friend. I didn’t know if I was his best friend, and I really didn’t care. He was my best friend, and that was all that really mattered to me.

“Another year went by. Harry had another whole new set of adventures, and we became closer friends... all three of us, really,” she added honestly. “Everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin, attacking the other students, so it was a rough year for him. But then again, when has he ever had an easy year?” Hermione added, almost as an afterthought.

“Things started to change slowly in third year. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and was after Harry, or so we all thought. I was worried. I was scared that I might lose my friend. It terrified me when Ron was attacked. Partly because my other friend was in danger, but mostly because it could’ve been my Harry,” Hermione said shakily. Emma was barely able to keep a neutral expression when Hermione said “my Harry.” She needed to hear the rest of the story to decide what to make of it.

“Every time something happened that year that scared me, Harry managed to come out okay,” she said with an obvious look of relief that was beginning to mix with another, more affectionate look. “Every time he came out okay, I could feel a wave of relief and happiness wash over me. I could feel myself being drawn closer to him, emotionally.

“I told myself that it was perfectly natural for someone to feel that way when their best friend dodges a bullet, and that it was nothing more than that,” Hermione explained. “But deep down, I knew that I didn’t have as intense a reaction when Ron came through his scary moments.”

Hermione stopped for a moment to get a glass of water, partly to help relax herself, and partly because her throat was getting irritated. She’d spoken more today than she had in the weeks since arriving home.

“It’s after lunchtime,” Emma said quietly. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m not too terribly hungry right now,” Hermione said as she stood by the sink, looking out the window into their backyard. “My stomach’s still a little jumpy from the anticipation of seeing Harry. Want to split a sandwich?”

Emma smiled and headed for the bread box. “What would you like?”

“Peanut butter and jam?” Hermione requested.

Emma turned around to look incredulously at her daughter, smiling all the while. “It’s been a few years since I’ve made one of those for you,” Emma said happily.

“I may be nearly of age in the wizarding world, but you’ll always be my Mummy... with or without bandages,” Hermione said as she took her glass of water and sat down, fondly remembering her favorite Halloween costume that her mother wore.

Emma smiled slightly, quickly turning around to return to the bread box. Hermione could see her raise her hand to her eyes. “I’ll make it, and you continue your story dear,” Emma said as she headed to the cabinet where the peanut butter was, keeping her back to her. “You said you could feel yourself being drawn to Harry, but not Ron,” she said, reminding Hermione.

“Oh yeah. Well, everything came into focus at the end of the year,” Hermione explained. “We had gone back in time to rescue—”

Hermione was interrupted when her mother began to chuckle. “I’m sorry dear,” Emma said as she turned around, rubbing her face in amusement with her hand. “You know how your father and I love sci-fi, but I still can’t get over the fact that you really have traveled through time.” Emma smiled and shook her head in amazement, and pride. “My daughter has actually traveled through time.”

Hermione allowed her mother to enjoy her moment. Using a Time Turner didn’t have quite the same excitement as driving a DeLorean eighty-eight miles per hour or accelerating past Warp 10 as you slingshot around the sun, especially when you were trying to take multiple classes at once, as well as saving two innocents from an unjust death. And it was gigawatt, not jiggawatt, the perfectionist in Hermione complained to herself, recalling her biggest cinematic pet peeve. After a few seconds, Emma gestured her hand towards Hermione to indicate that she could continue.

“So, Harry and I had gone back in time to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak,” Hermione said with a smirk, emphasizing those words. “We had to use Buckbeak to fly up to a window. I was terrified. I hated flying. But what choice did I have? Tell my best friend, ‘Sorry, I can’t help you rescue your godfather because I’m scared’?

“So, I let Harry help me up onto Buckbeak. He climbed on, then we took off. I remember quite vividly muttering, ‘I don’t like this — oh, I really don’t like this,’” Hermione recalled. A very contented look then appeared on her face. “I was so scared that I held on to Harry with all my strength. I pretty much just buried my face in his back.

“When Buckbeak made a sudden turn, I was startled and inhaled suddenly,” Hermione explained. “He was a little... not his freshest... from running around. But more than that, I noticed something else. The first time around, he had been attacked by the dementors. He had stains all over him from when he fell to the grass. As I sat there, holding on for dear life, I remembered smelling the grass.”

Hermione paused and smiled to herself. “It reminded me of the Quidditch pitch where I always watched Harry play. I remembered thinking that I was holding onto Harry for my life. I smelled him, the grass stains on his clothes. I closed my eyes and suddenly I felt safe. There I was, terrified of flying... I was probably fifty feet off the ground on the back of a flying horse, and I felt absolutely safe, holding onto Harry. I knew that I never wanted to let go of that feeling, ever again.”

Hermione looked up at Emma who had sat down across from her. In her recollection, Hermione hadn’t seen her set the half sandwich down in front of her. Emma was smiling, holding her partially eaten sandwich in her hand; her eyes were glistening.

Hermione took this moment to begin eating her sandwich. Emma sat there for a moment, thinking about what her daughter had just said. A sudden look of realization appeared on her face.

“And then you came home and heard me listening to ‘Holding Out for a Hero’?” Emma asked. “I remember you coming out of your room, suddenly very interested in that song.” She then thought for a moment again. “‘Isn’t there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?’ Hermione smiled, nodded, and blushed lightly.

“But what was even worse than that...” Hermione said, letting her voice trail off. “Do you know anything about hippogriffs?” she asked her mother, who shook her head. “They’re symbols of love,” Hermione explained simply. “They’re also symbols of the impossible... there’s a medieval saying, ‘to mate griffins with horses.’ Kind of like ‘when pigs fly.’” Hermione saw the inquisitive look on her mother’s face. “I was motivated to do a little research on hippogriffs,” she explained.

“For a while, I was sure that it was a sign that I didn’t, couldn’t, or shouldn’t have feelings for Harry. A hippogriff was a sign of the impossible. But then I realized that that didn’t matter. It represented the impossible, and yet... there it was. It was real. It existed. I had flown on the back of one, holding onto someone that made me feel safe, holding on for my life... holding on to my life?” Hermione said quietly, almost as if asking herself.

“Fortunately, the school year ended soon after that,” Hermione continued. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be around Harry until I had sorted everything. I was deathly afraid that he’d find out. Practically half the girls in school had secret crushes on him. The last thing he needed was to find out that I did too. Plus I was afraid he would tell me that he didn’t like me back.”

She took a few bites of her sandwich and continued her story. “As fourth and fifth years went by, my feelings for him only grew. It, of course, didn’t help at all,” Hermione said, smiling, “that he always seemed to come to me for help. But he never talked to me about Cho, thank heavens, until it was already too late.

“I saw him in fourth and fifth years constantly sneaking glances at her when he thought no one was looking. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been sneaking looks at him,” she admitted with a guilty grin.

Emma chuckled slightly. “Yeah, I remember that, all too well back in my day.”

“So I sat there and watched him watch her. It hurt a little,” Hermione said with a sigh. “And I was jealous of her as well. But I had convinced myself that it would never work out with them anyway. Desperate? Maybe. But it was what I believed. She was already going out with Cedric in fourth year.

“I knew Harry wasn’t going to ask me to the ball. He was too focused on her to notice anything else. I’m not sure, but I don’t think he even noticed Cedric until he realized that he was her dance partner. I was so glad that I had already said yes to Viktor when Ron asked me to go.

“It just infuriated me to no end that Ron had assumed that no one would ask me, and that he expected me to just simply sit around and wait for him to ask me. We argued, really argued, after the ball. He was mad that I went with Viktor. He said that he had wanted to go with me all along. If he’d really wanted to go with me, he should’ve just asked. I probably would’ve said yes. The truth was that I only went with Viktor because I really did believe no one else would ask me.” Emma looked at her knowingly, and Hermione grinned sheepishly in response. “Well, I may have been a bit flattered, too... being noticed by such a famous wizard, that all the girls seemed to have a crush on, and he asked me to go with him.”

Hermione paused for a moment. “I wasn’t willing to give up on Harry just yet, but I also refused to be one of those people who wastes their life away, pining for something they can’t have. In my heart of hearts, I believed that Harry and Cho wouldn’t work out, so I was willing to wait. But, in the meantime, I promised myself that if anyone better came along, that I would not let it pass me by.”

Hermione was still staring at her hands, as she had for most of her entire story, so she did not see her mother begin to smile when she said “if anyone better.” “After my date with Viktor, I realized then I truly believed that there was no one better than Harry. Viktor was nice,” she admitted. “He had his little quirks that were... annoying, but I promised myself that I’d give him a chance.

“When he asked me to come visit him in Bulgaria over the summer—” Hermione started to say when Emma suddenly dropped the last bit of her sandwich on her plate.

“You were only fifteen!” Emma interrupted, shocked.

“I know,” Hermione replied defensively. “He told me that he never felt like that about anyone else before.” Emma scoffed in disbelief. “I believed him, Mum. The point is that when he said that, I realized that we weren’t on the same page. He was nice, you know, and I was happy that he wanted to take me to the ball. But I was NOWHERE near ready for anything like that. And, even if I was ready for that kind of commitment, I wasn’t going to run off to another country after one dance.

“The truth was that I just didn’t feel any chemistry with him. When he kissed me goodnight after the ball, I didn’t feel anything. Nothing. When they left to go home, he pulled me aside and asked again if I would come visit him. I told him I couldn’t, that I just didn’t return the feelings he had.”

Hermione then smiled slightly. “He told me that he understood... that he too knew what it was like to fancy someone and not have them return those feelings. He said that as he glanced back at Harry. Evidently, I, uh, mentioned Harry a few times when Viktor and I were together.”

Emma smirked. “A few times?” she asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tilted her head to one side as if to say “Guilty as charged.” “He told me that I shouldn’t give up on someone if I really cared about him, at least not until I knew that it was too late. Just like how he wasn’t going to give up on me.

“He asked if we could still be friends, write letters occasionally. He promised he wouldn’t make the first move. I had already... politely declined once, so he said he was willing to just be my friend if that’s what I wanted. But he left it open, saying that if I ever changed my mind... I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I knew I wouldn’t.

“But, at the same time, it actually gave me a little hope. For all intents and purposes, here was the Bulgarian version of Harry, in terms of how everyone else saw them. Here he was, and he fancied me. It gave me hope that that if Harry got over Cho, he might see me. No one else seemed interested in me... at least no one who could carry on a civilized conversation without constantly fighting with me... so I didn’t see any harm in holding out hope.”

“After the train ride home, when no one was looking, I kissed Harry goodbye on the platform. Partly because he looked like he needed it, and partly because I wanted to,” Hermione admitted, mostly to herself.

“When fifth year came, it was all I could do to just be there for him. Everything was going wrong for him and he wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. I already told you about most of it. The dementors, the trial, the nightmares, Occlumency, Umbridge.” Even Emma’s eyes narrowed at the name of the professor she had heard so much about.

“But what I didn’t tell you about was Harry and Cho. They got together, finally, around Christmas, but things were already on the rocks by Valentine’s Day. Hearing her in the loos, all she did was cry over Cedric. And that was the last thing Harry would’ve wanted to talk about. When she wasn’t crying over him, she was bad mouthing me, for being Harry’s friend.”

A decidedly wicked smile appeared across Hermione’s face. “And she was right to be jealous of me,” she said with a chuckle. “I was after her boyfriend. But she obviously refused to believe that I wouldn’t try to steal him from her, like he was some sort of trophy.

“But what was worse was that she couldn’t see that Harry did fancy her, and that he didn’t fancy me. I’m just guessing here, since he didn’t talk about her much, but I’m willing to bet that she would’ve, at some point, forced him to pick between her as a girlfriend and me as just a friend.”

Hermione smirked again. “Now, of course I don’t know for sure, but I like to tell myself that he would’ve picked me... as just a friend. Harry really didn’t like her crying all the time, and I think he took it hard when her friend ratted us out.”

“Is that the one you told us broke your contract?” Emma started to ask.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “So then at the end of the year, we went to the Department of Mysteries to rescue Sirius. When I was hit, as I fell to the ground, I remember telling myself ‘It was all worth it,’ before I lost consciousness.” Hermione absent-mindedly rubbed where Dolohov’s curse had struck her. The visible scars were gone, and she was down to one potion a month until school started again.

“And then I came home, and the rest, I think, you know,” Hermione finished.

“Whatever happened with Viktor after he left?” Emma asked, surprising Hermione.

“We wrote to each other several times. Truthfully, I did enjoy writing to him. However, I only ever replied to his letters. I was never the first one to send one. Then in March, I think it was, he sent me his last letter, saying that he had met someone... someone very special.”

An embarrassed, but happy smile came over Hermione. “He told me that he had secretly been comparing every girl he met to me, and he finally found someone who was worthy of me.” She laughed fondly. “He told me that he meant that as the highest compliment he could think to give me. He told me that he had found his own Hermione, so he wished me all the luck in getting my Harry.”

Emma sat there for a few moments, thinking about all that her daughter had just told her. “What are your feelings for Harry right now?” she asked bluntly.

Hermione quickly looked into the living room to make sure her dad and Harry were still upstairs. “Harry... means the world to me. He...” her lower lip began to tremble slightly, “he... I can’t imagine my life without him anymore. I know that sounds drastic at sixteen, but I truly can’t. Even if he were to fall in love with someone else... I’d be devastated of course, but as long as he was still my friend, I’d survive.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, but I’d give my life in a heartbeat to save his,” Hermione said as her eyes began to tear up. They were, however, tears of raw emotion, both happy and sad. “Harry’s my first crush, and I’m only sixteen, so I don’t want to throw the L-word around. That word means too much to me to use it lightly. But at the same time, however, I feel so strongly for him that I have to at least wonder about that word.”

Emma studied her daughter very carefully. “Do you want to have sex with him?”

“MUM!!!” Hermione shouted as loudly as she could in a whisper.

“It’s a perfectly fair question to ask,” Emma said, “especially since he’s going to be living with us. The only reason I ask,” she tried to explain, “is that I see in you some of the things I remember from when your father and I were dating. I don’t know if you’re in love. Only you can answer that. But I am pretty sure that this is more than just a passing fancy.”

Emma broke eye contact for a moment to allow both of them a chance to collect themselves. After a few moments, she then turned to her daughter again. “I also happen to see that you’re wearing a shirt that you haven’t worn since I first took you bra shopping. Honestly, dear! Were you trying to give him a heart attack when he first saw you?”

Hermione immediately turned bright red and put her face in her hands. After a few seconds, she began to chuckle. “This shirt is awful, isn’t it?” she asked her mother as she looked up, after wiping away the evidence of her earlier emotion.

“Well... I’m sure Harry enjoyed it. But can you see where I’m coming from, dear? You’ve told me how important Harry is to you, and then I see that you’ve... put yourself on display. Can you at least understand why I might want to know your feelings on that? We had ‘the talk’ years ago, and I even signed that permission form you owled to us. Do they really only teach that to the girls?” Emma asked, suddenly switching topics.

Hermione was secretly grateful for the change of subject. When her mother mentioned about when she and Dan were dating, Hermione knew that they were getting dangerously close to the one subject in the world that Hermione could not handle: her parent’s sex lives. Hermione could spend hours talking about sex with her mother... it was simply all academic to her. The talks they had about pregnancy, diseases, the moral and social contexts, they all didn’t faze her in the slightest. It was all just information.

Hermione was even perfectly comfortable talking about her personal feelings about her own sex life... since it was still entirely theoretical. But if her mother even mentioned a single word about the fact that she and her father had ever had sex (even though, intellectually, she knew they had to have done so at least once...), it really made Hermione uncomfortable. She herself was amused by the fact that she’d rather face Death Eaters than listen to one more story that ended with “and then we... oh, never mind.”

“Like I told you once, the wizarding world is still a little old fashioned,” Hermione explained. “They feel that only the girls can be trusted with that kind of information. Part of me doesn’t agree with that mentality, that that information should be restricted. Then again, part of me also wonders what the school’d be like if every male, third year and up, knew that with a single word they wouldn’t have to worry about getting a girl pregnant.

“It’s kind of nice, actually, knowing that they do have to worry about getting a girl pregnant, especially since we’re the ones who have to carry the child... oh, sorry,” Hermione said quietly as she looked up at her mother. Emma shook her head to indicate no apology was necessary. “If they all knew a second, simple word protects against diseases... well, let’s just say that I’m sure the broom closets would no longer be safe for brooms.

“You know what the really sad thing about all that is?” Hermione asked her mother. “That the ‘special meeting’ with Madam Pomfrey and Professors McGonagall and Sprout actually started out centuries ago as the exact opposite. Back when marriages were arranged and people got married at fourteen to sixteen, that class originally started as a way for the school nurse to teach the girls about... married life.”

“So, Hermione, do you want to have sex with Harry?” Emma asked bluntly, changing the subject back again. Hermione looked down at her hands and mumbled something unintelligible, though Emma was pretty sure of what she said. “Sorry?”

Hermione closed her eyes, looked up at where she knew her mother’s eyes were, and then opened them. “I said... at some point, yes.” Hermione fidgeted in her chair slightly. “Look, I don’t know whether it will be on my wedding night, on my engagement night, or next Thursday night. You know what I mean,” she added defensively when her Emma blinked at the ‘next Thursday’ part.

“All I can promise you is that I am in no rush to do that. And I decided years ago that I was not going to commit my body until I had already committed my heart, mind, and soul to someone. Believe it or not, my mind would actually be the last to agree, since I wouldn’t... until I knew that he... whoever he was... until I knew that he had also committed his heart, mind, and soul to me.

“That... the way you described it, the merging of two bodies into one, it sounded too... meaningful... to simply throw it around casually, even though I knew I could, if I wanted to, what with the protection spells that we learned. I’ve actually heard several girls talking about it in the loos or in the dormitories when I was on rounds... about their first times.. Most of them made it sound so rushed, so awkward, that I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do.” Hermione then closed her eyes and rested her head in her hand again, waiting for her mother to speak.

Emma cleared her throat. “Hermione, dear. I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud that you’ve decided to not rush into anything, especially considering that you know how to... take care of yourself, in both the magical and non-magical worlds. This is a decision you have to make for yourself. Please remember, if you ever want to talk to me or your father about anything, our door will always be open.”

A slight, guilty grin appeared on Emma’s face. Unfortunately, Hermione did not notice it until it was too late. “Unless of course our door is closed. Then you should really knock first.”

“MUM!!” Hermione hissed.

“And speaking of doors being open,” Emma continued, eager to get out from under Hermione’s death glare. “Considering where we are now, there is one last thing I want to tell you. I know how uncomfortable you get when I tell you... personal stories, so I’ll try to spare you the details. But I need for you to listen.”

Hermione wanted to complain, but her mother had never actually requested that she listen to a “personal story.” They usually just happened by accident. So she decided that she would give her mother the benefit of the doubt.

“As you know, your father and I met in our first year at university. By second year, we were dating seriously. At the time, we both felt that we might’ve found the person with whom we wanted to spend rest of our lives. At one point, your father’s dormitory roommate left for the weekend. We both decided we wanted to sleep together... JUST sleep.

“We’d both fallen asleep together on the dormitory common room couch enough times trying to pull all-nighters that we both realized that we enjoyed the feeling of waking up next to each other, so we wanted to try it for real... but only that. Friday night came and went, and we woke up together Saturday morning, without anything else happening.

“We were so happy. We had the most wonderful evening the night before and started the day perfectly, waking up together... all without taking things too far. Dan took me to lunch, we saw a movie, and then we went back to the dormitory. Since it was Saturday, the other students were rather boisterous, so I closed the door behind me as we walked in to help block some of the noise. I also locked it since his next door neighbor liked to just walk in unannounced to visit Dan’s roommate.

“I thought that was rather rude, so I locked the door... for that reason and no other. It was early afternoon, so we just hung out, listening to music, talking about the movie. At some point, your father said something entirely innocent... I honestly don’t remember what. I just suddenly stared at him, tackled him, and starting snogging him senseless.

“It wasn’t the first time I had done that, but after the day, and night, we had had, it was just different this time. I could feel raw desire coursing through my veins. It was obvious he did too. Skipping ahead,” Emma said, emphasizing that she was leaving certain details out, “we both woke up several hours later, around dinner time. We were content, in each others arms, wearing nothing but our smiles.

“It then suddenly dawned on us what we had done. While by no means did either of us regret it, we were, however, absolutely terrified. It all happened so suddenly, we hadn’t taken any precautions. Fortunately, we were each other’s firsts, so there was no concern in that area, at least. But neither of us wanted to be parents at nineteen.

“When nothing came of it, we were so relieved.” Emma sighed slightly. “Though, looking back, if we had known then how hard it would be for us to conceive when we were ready, we wouldn’t have been so happy that nothing happened then...” Emma trailed off, then looked at her daughter. It was obvious that Hermione was uncomfortable, but she was paying attention.

“The point, my beautiful, miracle baby, is that when you care for someone that deeply, when you’re at the point when you wonder about the L-word, the time will come when you will want to be with them, physically. From the sounds of things, you at least know that, for you, that time is not now.

“When it does come, whether it’s on your wedding night, your engagement night, or next Thursday night, it will hit you hard. It’s hard to understand what that means if you haven’t felt it for yourself. When that time comes, you won’t be able to stop yourself... you won’t want to. And if you’ve put yourself in a situation where you don’t HAVE to stop yourself, you won’t. You may end up doing something that can’t be taken back.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’s your decision. If you know that the time is not now, then just... don’t close the door. Leave the door open. If we’d left the door open, we would’ve had to stop to close the door. That would have at least given one of us a few seconds to allow the hormones to settle slightly, to give us a chance to catch our breaths.

“It’s a remarkably effective... calming method... knowing that, with the door open, a neighbor might walk by unexpectedly... or when I was visiting him at his home, the possibility that his parents might walk in on us suddenly.”

Emma stopped for a few moments to finish off her sandwich. Hermione was sitting there, staring blankly at her still mostly uneaten sandwich, lost in deep thought.

“Tell me something, dear. Why did you want Harry to stay with us?” Emma asked gently.

“Because he needed to get away from his relatives,” Hermione answered honestly. “He needed to be somewhere where he would receive support to help him with the loss of Sirius. I hate to say it, but it’s clear now that, if I hadn’t interfered, he wasn’t going to get that from the Headmaster. The Weasleys are too tied up now with their own familial problems to be there for him. Besides, I think Mrs. Weasley would have smothered him. He as sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten it from the Dursleys. So, as far as I could see, that left only me... us.”

“Was there any other reason you wanted him here as well?” Emma asked, knowing her daughter all too well.

“I missed him. I wanted to see him, to be near him. Even if he doesn’t return my feelings, I still have them. He makes me happy just being around him.” Emma smiled lightly and patted Hermione’s hand affectionately. She then stared at Hermione again, waiting for the last part, waiting for the reason she wore that particular shirt.

Hermione looked down at the table again, then looked back up. “And... a small part of me was hoping that if we could spend some time together, even with you and Dad around, that maybe he’d start to see me a little differently. That’s why I wore this shirt. I wanted him to realize that this was me at home, not me at school.”

“But dear, this,” Emma said, indicating her shirt, “isn’t you at home.”

“I know,” Hermione conceded, “I just needed to... make a strong first impression.”

Emma thought for a moment, unsure if she should be amused or not. “What impression exactly did you want to make?”

“All I wanted to do,” Hermione answered honestly, “was to make sure the last thing he saw me as was ‘Hermione at school.’ He’s so used to seeing me in my school uniform and my regular clothes that I had to find something that he’s never seen before. And it wouldn’t hurt if it reminded him that I was a girl. But I promise you that that was all I had in mind.

“I wasn’t going to jump him, or anything like that. And I didn’t intend to wear this again.” Hermione fidgeted in her seat a little. “This shirt is horribly uncomfortable,” she said with a chuckle.

“The last thing Harry needs right now is some girl throwing herself at him, especially his best friend.”

“Best friends make the best lovers,” Emma suggested, watching her daughter’s reaction carefully.

“My point is that that is not what he needs right now. All I want to do is be there for him. Period. Now... if he happens to start to look at me differently along the way...” Hermione said with a slight grin as she trailed off. “But this shirt definitely goes back in the dresser.”

“Or, better yet, into the rag bin. I’m really surprised you were able to squeeze into it today. You know, sometimes boys are more likely to notice little things about a girl he fancies than if you just hit him over the head with an anvil,” Emma offered. “If you come on too strongly, sometimes it scares them away.”

“That’s certainly true,” Hermione agreed, thinking of her other best friend. She was pretty sure Ron had fancied her since at least fourth year, but if fighting with her was how he showed it, then she could certainly consider that “coming on too strongly,” and it certainly had not endeared him upon her.

“If all you truly want to do is be there for him, then just do that. Don’t worry about anything else,” Emma advised. “I guarantee you will slip up every once in a while and do or say something that will hint at your true feelings for him. If he’s paying attention, he’ll notice. He may not put it all together, but he’ll notice.

“If, as you hope, he ever gets to the point where he does start to notice you, I guarantee you he’ll start watching you, trying to figure out how you feel about him. But,” Emma conceded, “if that time never comes, then at least you’ll never have to worry about doing something that can’t be undone... like just walking up to him and snogging him senseless.

“I don’t envy you, dear, in this. Falling for your best friend is possibly the most dangerous thing to do in a relationship. But it is also potentially the most rewarding,” Emma said with a happy sigh. “Your father is my best friend. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Take a chance that you might lose him. But only you can decide when the time is to take that chance. That said, it seems obvious that that time is not now.

“Just be there for him. Don’t worry about the rest. The rest will take care of itself,” Emma finished confidently. Seeing that Hermione was listening intently, she could not resist adding one last thing. “And leave the door open,” she said with a wicked smile.

“Mum!” Hermione complained. Emma held up her hands as a peace offering.

“I just couldn’t resist. And dear, I did know what you meant when you said ‘next Thursday,’” Emma explained. “It just caught me off guard because I thought you told me a couple of days ago that Harry’s birthday was next Thursday.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Oh no! I completely forgot about that.” She looked pleading at her mother. “I still haven’t figured out what to get him for his birthday.” Her eyes went wide again when she realized what she had said earlier. “OH!” she gasped, “I swear that I didn’t mean anything by ‘next Thursday,’ I just meant it as any random date. I—”

“It’s okay dear, I understand. Your reaction alone was proof enough of that. What is the date next Thursday, anyway? The thirty-first? The first?” Emma asked, more to herself. “We’ve been so busy lately with parents bringing their kids in during the summer holiday...”

“Mum, do we still need to go shopping? Harry really needs some new clothes. All he has, other than his school uniform, are seconds from his cousin, which obviously don’t fit.”

“Yeah,” Emma confirmed. “We need to get some groceries. We can go to the department store as well.”

“Would you do me a favor?” Hermione asked after finishing her sandwich. “If you or Dad see him looking at anything that might make a nice present, would you please let me know? I was so focused on getting him here that I forgot about picking something out. The last thing I want to get him is a book, so I’m hoping he’ll see something that he might like. Can you ask Dad for me?”

“I will, dear,” Emma agreed after setting the dishes in the sink. “Speaking of your father and Harry, I should probably go check on them. They’ve been awfully quiet up there. I guess that means he hasn’t started yelling death threats at Harry about living under the same roof as you,” Emma teased.

“Dad wouldn’t do that, would he?” Hermione asked.

“No, I don’t think so, dear,” Emma replied. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to tease Harry with a warning about making you mad,” she said, grinning.

“Harry knows better than that. Both he and Ron were there when I smacked Malfoy. I don’t think they’ll ever forget that,” Hermione said, looking quite satisfied as she recalled that memory.

Hermione then stood up from the table and she and Emma headed back to the living room. Not knowing how long until they would leave to go shopping, Hermione went and sat back down on the sofa, picking up the book she had been reading while she waited for her parents to return from the Dursleys’ with Harry. Emma started up the stairs towards the guest room, which was now Harry’s room.

End flashback...

Hermione had done exactly what she had promised herself that she wouldn’t do... exactly what her mother had warned her about. She went too far. She knew that she was starting to get carried away when she started recalling lines from her favorite song. Once she started however, she couldn’t stop herself. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. “Then at least you’ll never have to worry about doing something that can’t be undone... like just walking up to him and snogging him senseless.”

That was exactly what she did. It was under the guise of a birthday snog, but standing there, finally feeling what she had waited two years for, she lost her head and let her heart take control, always a dangerous scenario with an unwitting partner and a room full of witnesses.

Hermione wanted to leave. She wanted to run and hide under some rock somewhere. But she knew she couldn’t. The only thing worse than getting caught by Harry would have been to make a scene and try to escape in front of everyone else. She was pretty sure Harry wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but if she suddenly bolted for the door, he’d have to explain then. And then everyone would know, and Harry wouldn’t want to see her anymore, and her life would just be over.

And it was all her fault. You brought this all upon yourself, she chastised herself. At least you had no control over what Cho did or didn’t do. This is ALL your own doing!

And so Hermione put on a brave face and pretended like nothing happened. All she had to do was make it through the rest of the party, and then she could go home and drown herself in her misery.

--- Harry’s POV ---

Harry stood there, still absolutely terrified at what he had done. He watched as a range of expressions crossed across Hermione’s face, all within a few seconds. He still wasn’t sure what had just happened. All he knew for certain was that when he kissed Hermione, something happened.

Fortunately, with the present giving and kissing portion of the party over, everyone began to break up and started to swarm around the other table with the four trays of Molly’s finest. Harry waited for an opportune moment to excuse himself to “wash his hands.” He then made a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom, he locked the door, put the toilet lid down, then sat down, propping his elbows on his knees, resting his forehead in his hands.

Something just happened. He needed to figure out what.

Something... that’s the understatement of the century, Harry said to himself sarcastically.

If you’re so smart, then you tell me what happened, the other voice in his mind replied. For the first time, it really freaked Harry out hearing that part of his mind in Hermione’s voice. He had always... maybe not enjoyed it, exactly, since it was usually the part that pointed out when he was wrong, but it had at least always been a comforting presence.

Our best friend just snogged us, and it was the most amazing experience in the world. Better than flying! Better than Quidditch! Better than casting a silencing charm on the curtains and... You know, it’s a damn good thing there’s a numbing charm in effect right now! I can just see it now: ‘Hello, my name is Harry Pervert Potter. I just snogged my best friend and then got excited by it!’ Wouldn’t that have been a laugh for everyone to see?! Bloody brilliant!

You know, NOW is probably NOT the best time to be thinking about THAT!

And what’s even worse, we SNOGGED HER BACK!! AND WE WANTED TO!!

Well... is there anything wrong with that? You seem to be so certain that we wanted to. If that’s true, then what’s the problem?

What’s the problem?? She’s our BEST FRIEND!!

So?

So? SO?? You... I... You obviously just don’t understand. Not for the first time, the part of Harry that tended to react first and think later was at a loss what to make of everything. At the same time, that other part of him simply sat there and did nothing, except gather data and wait to make a final decision.

So what do we do now? the “Stupefy first and ask questions later” part of him asked.

Now, we go back to the party and have lunch. We’ll just give her her space, but not be obvious about it, of course. If she really wants to talk about what happened, she’ll pull us aside, or wait until we get home. Or, if she’s really angry, she’ll hex us into oblivion as soon as she sees us. Either way, I don’t see any point in worrying about it now and ruining the party.

Yeah, that’s true, I suppose. And... there IS cake...

Harry stood up, washed his hands, then opened the door to go rejoin the party.

--- Hermione’s POV ---

Hermione was secretly grateful when Harry went to wash his hands. It gave her a few minutes to collect herself. If she’d just walked right up to him, she’d probably just start apologizing right there in front of everyone. She needed to catch her breath, and wait to see what Harry did first.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny waving her over to the buffet table. Deciding this was the perfect diversion, she went over and joined her friend. As she reached for a plate, she noticed that she still had a few smudges of frosting on her fingers. There must have been some on the handle. Deciding she could stand a little soap herself, she headed for the nearest bathroom.

She assumed that if Harry was feeling uncomfortable around her, he’d head for the farthest bathroom, just to delay his return as long as possible. That’s what she’d do; that’s why she didn’t. When she got to the bathroom, she reached for the doorknob.

--- Harry’s POV ---

Harry opened the bathroom door to find Hermione standing right in front of it, with her hand stretched out to grab the knob. He jumped in surprise; Hermione did too.

“Geez, Hermione. You scared me half to death,” Harry said with a chuckle as his adrenaline-spiked heart rate began to drop.

“I could say the same thing, Harry,” she replied, equally amused.

As he saw a smile break across her otherwise impassive face, Harry could feel that annoying swooping sensation return and his heart rate begin to elevate. He could not stand to look at her face any more. The longer he did, the stronger the feeling became.

As he drew his eyes down towards his feet, where he knew they were safest, he happened to see a few traces of frosting still on her fingers. He smiled and then looked back up at her.

“Went a little crazy with the frosting there, didn’t you?” Harry asked with a cheesy grin on his face. That was lame, he complained to himself.

Hermione held up her hand for a moment and looked at it. “Yeah, there must’ve been a little on the handle of the spoon.”

As both he and Hermione looked at her hand, Harry suddenly thought of an even better way to remove the frosting from her hand. He then quickly decided he needed to get back to the party before any other bright ideas entered his mind.

“Well, the bathroom’s all yours,” Harry said quickly, eager to put some distance between them, while he still could.

“Thanks,” Hermione said kindly. She stepped back to let him out, then went in and turned on the tap to wash her hand.

Harry returned with great haste back to the party. What the hell was that all about? he wondered as he hurried down the hall. Just like with the Portkey and that hand-holding thing earlier, he had a pretty good idea of what that was all about, but he was hoping to find some other explanation for what just happened.

---

A/N: Please note, there may be a delay in the next chapter. I am working on a personal project in anticipation of a certain event come November 18.

A friend asked me if I was going to reread the book before I went to see the movie. I told them the answer was easy: no. I know that there’s no way to turn a 734 page book into a 2 ½ hour movie without cutting out certain parts. And other parts will need to be changed to tie up any bits left dangling due to the deletions. And even more parts will be changed simply because they don’t translate well from the written page to the cinematic screen. I enjoy the book, and I want to enjoy the movie, so I will be viewing them as separate entities. The movie is BASED on the book; the book is not a script for the movie. The easiest way for me to enjoy each as they are is to not focus on every single difference. Just my two Knuts.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Never did. Never will...

A/N: As always, thanks to my beta MapleMountain. Without him, I’d still be lurking around Portkey, hoping to stumble across a story that had Hermione grab the backside of Harry’s hand, then he lifted it, turned his hand over, and replaced her hand in his...

Second, a nod goes out to my friend Petronilla. One of Harry’s birthday presents here was inspired by one his Christmas presents from Secrets From The Past. Obviously I’ve made it my own, but still, it was the inspiration, so credit where credit is due. :-)

Chapter 15. Where My Heart Has Led Me.

Harry returned with great haste back to the party. What the hell was that all about? he wondered as he hurried down the hall. Just like with the Portkey and that hand-holding thing earlier, he had a pretty good idea of what that was all about, but he was hoping to find some other explanation for what just happened.

Upon his return, Harry found Ron trying to determine how many chicken wings he could pile onto one plate.

“Oy! Mate,” Harry called out in good humor as he approached Ron. “Leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?” Ron turned around to see Harry standing behind him with his hands on his hips, trying to look at Ron with a disapproving glare.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Hermione,” Ron retorted as he turned back to the table. Harry flinched, but quickly recovered. He then grabbed a plate and moved over next to Ron, trying to ignore his last remark. He didn’t know what Ron meant by that, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out. Harry looked at the small feast before him.

The lunch at Harry’s party was being served in a buffet style, and since the seating in the drawing room was very limited (the large furniture had been removed to make room for everyone), Molly had prepared foods that could be eaten standing while holding a plate: fried chicken, a varied assortment of sandwiches all cut into halves, some sort of casserole, and a fruit salad that was bound together with what appeared to be whipped cream... simple foods, but extremely delicious nonetheless.

Ron was still at the tray of the highly coveted fried chicken. By the looks of the pile, there seemed to be six chickens worth. By the looks of Ron’s plate, he had all twelve wings.

Harry, amused, looked at the pile on Ron’s plate.

“What?” Ron asked when he saw Harry looking at it. “They’re small,” he explained, then moved on to the sandwiches. Deciding it was probably not wise to come between Ron and his food, Harry just smiled and said nothing. After grabbing a breast piece, he waited for Ron to decide which of the three types of sandwiches he wanted (he ended up taking one of each).

While they were loading up their plates, Molly had brought up from the kitchen several large flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. After filling their large glasses with butterbeer, Harry and Ron worked their way over to one of the corners of the room where a small table stood. They set their drinks down and began to eat.

After finishing his sandwich, Harry happened to look over and see Hermione on the other side of the room, standing with Ginny and Luna; Hermione and Ginny were talking while Luna appeared to be just standing there, lost in her own dream world, eating her fruit salad. When he saw that Hermione had started to turn her head to look in his direction, Harry quickly turned back to Ron, who appeared oblivious to everything other than what was on his plate.

A small part of Harry was impressed to see that Ron had been keeping up with Harry as he ate. Ron had gone through all of his wings (he only managed to get ten of the twelve) and three sandwiches in the time it took Harry to get through his one piece of chicken and one sandwich. Then again, Ron had always been a fast eater.

Harry assumed that rapid eating was simply instinct for Ron after sixteen years of Weasley meals. Being the sixth of seven children, Ron probably learned at an early age to eat quickly, lest one or more of his older brothers (two guesses which) found some way to relieve from Ron the burden of eating his lunch.

After finishing the last bite of his sandwich, Ron stopped for a moment to take a long draft of his butterbeer.

“So, mate, how’s life in the library?” Ron asked with a grin.

“The library?” Harry wondered, befuddled. Ron just rolled his eyes at him. Seeing him roll his eyes, Harry suddenly realized that he meant Hermione’s house. “Oh, the library.”

“Yeah, the library,” Ron repeated, laughing. Harry, for some reason, didn’t find it all that funny. Truth be told, he had started to think of Hermione’s house as home. Even more, he was pretty sure he himself had called it that recently. And it wasn’t when he told her thank you before they left her house. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure it had just slipped out recently. It felt perfectly normal to say, so he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“It’s not a library, Ron,” Harry replied, trying his hardest to sound like he was joking also. “I’ll have you know that I’ve only read my school books, as well as Quidditch.” Ron was still looking at Harry with a sense of disbelief. Now Harry started to find it slightly amusing. “What did you expect? Surely you didn’t think I’d be able to stay there and NOT get my homework done, did you?”

Ron’s face dropped ever so slightly. If he hadn’t specifically been worried about Ron’s reaction to the idea of him living with Hermione (awkward swooping feeling), Harry probably wouldn’t have noticed. “No, not really. Actually, I didn’t know what to think at first,” Ron admitted.

After Ron said that, Harry suddenly realized that he’d been half-expecting Ron to reply “Don’t call me Shirley.” Harry suppressed a laugh and thought to himself in amusement, Wrong best friend for that.

Ron sighed slightly and set down his plate of food. He then looked over to the other side of the room. Harry followed his stare and saw that he was looking over to where Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were. Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“Harry?” Ron asked uncertainly. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Harry quickly replied back. He said it, hoping to make himself feel a little better. He was sure Hermione would’ve said something like that; he thought it was pretty funny. Ron however, did not seem to think it was funny. In fact, he didn’t seem to think it was much of anything, for he just stood there, staring blankly towards... the other side of the room, Harry tried to convince himself.

Seeing that Ron had not reacted to his little joke, and more importantly, he had actually put down his food, Harry decided that humor was probably not a good idea at the moment. “Yeah, Ron, go ahead,” Harry finally said as he set down his plate as well. He found himself watching Hermione.

Hermione was trying to appear interested as Ginny and Luna talked. Harry smiled suddenly. As he watched the three of them, he realized that it was probably easy for Ginny and Luna to talk, and it was easy for Hermione and Ginny to talk, but he highly doubted that the three of them would easily be able to share in the same conversation.

“This is just between us, okay?” Ron asked, suddenly snapping Harry back into attention. Harry nodded sideways to Ron; the two of them were both staring at... the other side of the room.

“How do you know when you fancy someone or not?” Ron asked suddenly, but quietly. The smile died from Harry’s face; he forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. He now felt very uncomfortable again.

“Hermione?” Harry asked in barely a whisper, and with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Ron turned his head slightly and looked at Harry incredulously. At first, Ron looked as though he might deny it or ask where on earth Harry got that idea. However, after Harry stared intensely back at Ron, almost daring him to say otherwise, Ron’s face changed again. “How did you know?” he asked.

Harry tried not to smile. Now was definitely not the best time for that, particularly because he really didn’t feel like smiling. The instinct to laugh had merely been from disbelief of Ron’s question. “I do have eyes, you know,” he said, trying to maintain his friendly tone.

Ron smiled faintly, then turned back away from Harry; that only made Harry feel worse. Harry felt a slight constricting feeling in his chest, as though it were becoming difficult for him to breathe.

“I just figured you might be able to tell me what I was feeling,” Ron said as he shrugged his shoulders. “You and Hermione always seem to be better at the whole feelings thing than I am.” Harry’s heart skipped a beat when Ron said “You and Hermione.” He tried to ignore it.

Harry really didn’t want to be talking about this right now... about Hermione... and Ron. But... Ron was still standing there. He had put down his food, so it must have been more important than the small mountain of fruit salad still on his plate.

Ron took a deep breath then finally started. “And you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Yeah, like I want to talk about this ever again, Harry heard his reasonable side quip to himself. For some reason, hearing it in Hermione’s voice lifted his spirits slightly.

“I suppose you know that I’ve fancied her for a while...” Ron said, allowing his voice to trail off, unsure where to go next.

“I suppose,” Harry parroted back as his aforementioned spirits dropped back to where they were originally. He really didn’t feel he could give any better response than that. It was really becoming difficult for him to breathe. He felt as though he was in a small enclosed room where the walls were slowly moving in on him. He could still breathe, but he knew the walls were coming. He felt like he was being chased and running out of time.

“It’s probably been a year and a half now, or so,” Ron said, confirming Harry’s fears. He was already pretty sure of the timeline of Ron’s feelings, but that statement pretty much confirmed that this was what they were talking about. Harry didn’t say a word; he couldn’t.

Just at that moment, Hermione, obviously bored listening to Ginny and Luna’s conversation, decided to go talk to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. As she walked over, she looked quickly over towards Harry and Ron. Harry could see her look briefly at Ron and then at him.

Since he was still in the stupor he had begun to build to insulate himself from whatever Ron was about to say, Harry didn’t quickly look away like the last time when she looked at him. Hermione smiled at Harry for a brief moment, and then quickly turned away to address their Head of House.

Though she was no longer looking at him, Harry immediately felt all of his feelings of dread and discomfort get swept away. A dazed smile appeared on his face, and he felt a cheery, almost giddy feeling bubbling up. His momentary bliss was interrupted when Ron suddenly turned to look at him; Harry was still looking at Hermione though he could see Ron in his peripheral vision.

“Harry,” Ron whispered through clenched teeth, “she’s watching us.”

“Huh?” Harry whispered back. No she’s not. She’s talking to Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, Harry thought, confused.

“Okay, maybe she’s not watching us, but Luna’s definitely looking in our direction. I can’t talk about this in front of her. What if she can read lips?” Ron said, sounding slightly panicked. Harry quickly looked over at Luna. Sure enough, Luna was looking in their direction while she still continued to talk to Ginny.

He couldn’t tell if she was looking at either of them specifically, or simply facing in their direction. Either way, Harry felt a little unnerved. He had forgotten about her; he had forgotten about everyone else, really. How long had she been looking in their direction? Had she seen anything?

What’s to see? Harry wondered. There wasn’t anything to see. Was there?

Harry turned back to face Ron as though they were in normal conversation. He picked up his plate again and showed it to Ron, indicating he should pick up his plate again just so they would look casual. Ron did and started picking at his fruit salad with his fork. Harry stood there, waiting for Ron to begin. He just couldn’t bring himself to start the conversation.

Ron seemed to brighten a little after a few bites of his mother’s fruit salad. He suddenly started talking as though he just picked up in the middle of a conversation he’d been having with himself.

“What I mean is that all this time I was absolutely sure I fancied her. I don’t know why, really. It’s just that, you know, she’s a girl, and... I like girls.”

Yeah, she’s definitely a girl, Harry agreed to himself, recalling that photograph of her with Dan and Emma... followed by a memory of her in a certain pink T-shirt with silver lettering. He then kicked himself mentally for allowing his mind to wander. He really needed to pay attention to what Ron was saying, though deep down he knew that he also really didn’t want to hear whatever Ron was about to say.

“You have absolutely no idea how jealous I was of Viktor back in fourth year,” Ron said.

A small chuckle escaped Harry’s lips. “Yeah, actually I do have an idea of how jealous you were. It was hard to miss, Ron.” A slightly embarrassed look appeared on Ron’s face.

“Well, anyway. I just kinda got used to that feeling, of feeling comfortable around her... when we weren’t fighting, of course,” Ron added with a chuckle.

Hearing Ron say that with a laugh really irritated Harry. “Well, then you must not feel too comfortable around her, since you always seem to be fighting,” Harry snapped without realizing. He paused for a second to take a calming breath. “Why do you always fight with her, Ron?”

“I don’t know, because sometimes she really annoys me, I guess” Ron answered. Harry unexpectedly found himself clenching his jaw. “She always has to be right. She always has to point out when you or I are wrong. She’s always trying to drag us into her stupid spew thing.”

Harry sighed. “First of all, Ron, it’s S.P.E.W., not spew. Second—” He was interrupted by Ron starting to laugh.

“Blimey, mate,” Ron exclaimed between laughs. “You really need to look at yourself in a mirror one of these days. I think all that time at her house is starting to rub off on you. The way you just rolled your eyes at me and told me it wasn’t spew, you looked exactly like Hermione.”

Ron laughed a little more. “And earlier, when you complained about me taking all the chicken, the way you glared at me looked exactly like she does when we don’t do our homework,” Ron explained, looking very entertained.

“I did?” Harry asked in disbelief. “I didn’t even realize that I rolled my eyes at you.”

“Believe me, you did,” Ron assured him. “Like I said, I think you’re spending too much time with her,” he said in joking manner.

Somehow I doubt that’s possible, Harry thought fondly. “Yeah, well, what can you do?” he asked rhetorically about himself. “Move back to the Dursleys?” He almost added “or Grimmauld Place,” but stopped himself before he spoke it.

Harry really didn’t like the idea of that right now, even though things seemed to be better with Percy, and he didn’t seem to feel too bad being here in Sirius’s old house. It was as if he was afraid they might accept his joking suggestion and actually ask him to join them there. It would have been a hassle to have to pack up all his stuff again to move out of Hermione’s house.

Ron flinched slightly at the idea of Harry returning to his relatives. “Yeah, I guess you’re stuck there,” Ron said, making it sound like defeat.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Harry said with a smile; it really didn’t seem like a defeat at all.

“Anyway,” Harry resumed, “what I was about to say is that she always has to be right because she doesn’t like to be wrong. Do you like having the wrong answer when McGonagall calls on you in class?” Ron shook his head, looking as though he never considered that before.

“And she tells us when we’re wrong... because we’re wrong. She wants us to know what we’re doing as well. Do you remember me pointing out when you performed a spell incorrectly during our D.A. meetings?” Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but Harry didn’t let him. He was feeling a little too protective of her at the moment.

“It’s the same exact thing, Ron,” Harry said, silencing him. “And as for S.P.E.W.,” Harry continued, smiling as he emphasized each letter, “she gets excited about it because it’s something that’s important to her. She just wants to share it with us because she’s excited. How often do we try to get her to play Quidditch?”

“Too often,” Ron joked. Neither of them had ever had any success getting her onto a broom.

“We don’t have to like S.P.E.W., or even participate in it, but we should at least support her and encourage her to do what she enjoys. Sometimes it’s about what she wants to do, not what we want to do, Ron.”

Ron stood there, taking it all in. Harry got the feeling that he didn’t disagree with him, he’d just never thought about it like that before.

Harry sighed. “Let me ask you something, Ron. If all these things about her annoy you, then why do you fancy her?”

“That’s the thing, Harry. I don’t really know,” Ron replied sounding slightly confused. “But now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure if I do fancy her anymore,” he added quietly, almost as an afterthought.

That certainly got Harry’s attention. He suddenly found it a little easier to breathe. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, part of him eager to find out what exactly he meant. Another part of him was highly annoyed that Ron, or anyone else for that matter, could not know whether or not they fancied such a wonderful human being like Hermione Jane Granger.

“Well, when Professor Dumbledore brought us her letter telling us that you were going to stay with her, I thought I’d be jealous of you. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” Ron grimaced in a way that indicated he wasn’t entirely proud of some of his earlier behavior.

“But I didn’t care. What I mean is that it didn’t bother me,” Ron explained. “If anything, I felt a little sorry for you. I mean, I don’t know what she’s like at home, but I just had this picture of some stuffy house that smelled like a library and was filled with bookshelves and everyone sat around the kitchen table reading.”

Hey! There’s nothing wrong with it smelling like a library, Harry thought to himself, recalling how he felt when he walked into the bookstore when they went shopping at the mall. For some reason, Harry didn’t feel like confirming or denying Ron’s impression about what Hermione’s house was really like... except for one thing.

“Well, there are a lot of bookshelves,” Harry said with a grin. “In the living room, in her parents’ room, in her room. None in my room, though.” Ron looked curiously at Harry for a moment, and then his expression returned to normal as though whatever he had been thinking wasn’t really important.

“And then when she gave you your birthday snog... nothing. Except that we all wanted to laugh seeing as how the girls had all planned it to surprise you. You did look pretty surprised when Ginny kissed you,” Ron said, smirking.

Realizing that they had drifted off topic slightly, Harry tried to steer them back to something that was really bothering him.

“So then why did you fancy her?” Harry asked.

“Well, you know...” Ron started, looking towards Hermione again. Harry followed his gaze to her also. “Like I said before... she’s a girl, she’s always around, it just seemed to make sense, you know, to fancy her,” Ron explained. “It just seemed easy to do.”

Harry unexpectedly found himself becoming very irritated. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ron; he knew he was more upset than he should have been. If he looked at him, Ron might’ve seen his annoyance. As a result, he continued to look in Hermione’s direction as he spoke. “You don’t fancy someone just because it’s easy, or convenient. You fancy someone because you just do. Because you want to spend your time with her. Because she makes you happy just by being near her...” Harry said, allowing his voice to trail off.

Harry turned to see that Ron was looking at Harry with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Blimey, Harry!” Ron said, sounding slightly awed. “Is that how you felt with Cho?”

Harry’s stomach sank slightly. He really didn’t want to be talking about Cho right now. And yet he had been talking about her... hadn’t he? “For a little while,” he admitted, hoping that was the end of it. “But then...” he added, shrugging his shoulders, hoping Ron would get the hint that was the end of the matter.

However, just in case Ron didn’t... “But we’re not talking about Cho now, are we? We’re talking about Hermione,” Harry reminded him. Ron nodded slightly. Harry quickly looked around them to see if anyone appeared to be paying attention to them. He had been talking for several minutes, oblivious to everyone else around him... well, almost everyone.

“Is that how you feel about Hermione?” Harry asked Ron seriously. “Do you want to spend your free time with her? Do you find yourself inexplicably happy when she does something as small as smile at you? Do you want to walk around the mall holding her hand?”

Ron looked slightly lost. “‘Mall?’ What’s a ‘mall’?”

Harry suddenly felt very confused. “‘Mall?’ N-no, I said ‘hall.’ You know, like walking around the halls at school.” I did say ‘hall,’ didn’t I? he tried to convince himself.

“Oh,” Ron said, his confusion disappearing as he accepted Harry’s answer.

“So, is that how you feel about her?” Harry asked; he was eager to stop trying to think up examples, as well as overly anxious to hear Ron’s answer. Ron stood there for a moment, thinking about it.

Come on! What’s there to think about? If you DID, you should already know the answer! Harry thought to himself impatiently.

Harry could see Ron searching through his memories and feelings, trying to decide what he felt for their bushy-haired friend. After a few moments, Ron looked as though he had come to a surprising (to him) revelation.

“No... I don’t feel like that about her...” Ron finally said, and then turned again to look curiously at Hermione.

YES! Harry heard a voice in his mind shout out, though he couldn’t tell which. He fought valiantly to keep from saying anything out loud.

“But... but...” Ron spluttered, “I thought I did fancy her...”

“Well, maybe you did, at some point,” Harry conceded. “But maybe it went away. Just because you fancy someone, it doesn’t always mean that they will fancy you back. It’s hard to have feelings for someone if they don’t return them. No offense intended, but just look at your sister. How long did she fancy me before she gave up?”

Ron’s earlier lost expression disappeared in a snicker that he tried to hide in his hand. “Who says she’s given up?” Ron said. That earned him a friendly punch on the arm from Harry.

“Heck, forget about Ginny, look at me,” Harry said with a slight laugh, sincerely hoping that Ron’s comment was just a joke. “How long did I just sit there and stare at Cho?” Harry asked, thinking now about how pointless that had all been.

“But the two of you did get together, eventually,” Ron reminded him. Oh, how easily Harry could forget about that.

“Ah yes, but I, Ron, am a clueless git. And besides, look at how well we turned out. I mean, sure, for a very little while there, I felt like I was flying on my Firebolt, high up in the sky. And we did... snog... a couple times... that was kinda nice,” Harry admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

“But the rest of the time, it seemed like all she ever did was cry. We didn’t argue with each other all the time,” Harry said, emphasizing the word and staring heavily at Ron. But, now that he thought about it, with what little time they had been able to spend together, they had actually argued a lot more than he thought was normal.

“When we did argue,” Harry added unexpectedly, “oddly enough, it was usually about Hermione,” he remembered with a slight grin. What did that have to do with anything? he wondered in confusion, then shook his head slightly to clear that thought.

“But anyway,” Harry trooped on, desperate to get this conversation back to something that was vaguely recognizable as coherent. “The point is that sometimes two people aren’t meant to be together... sometimes they are better as just friends. If you try to push something that isn’t there, look at what can happen” Harry said, pointing to himself. When he said it, he intended to mean himself and Cho, but a small part of him also secretly meant Ron and Hermione.

“Let me ask you this,” Harry continued. “Think about how much the two of you argue. Do you really think that’s a good thing to have in a relationship?”

“No,” Ron admitted. He then scrunched up his face in confusion as though he was trying to justify something to himself.

“But... I always kind of thought that it was like... tension... between us, you know,” Ron tried to explain.

“I always kind of thought that it was like... anger... between you, you know,” Harry found himself retorting back before he could stop himself. Fortunately, Ron seemed to simply accept what he’d said as a valid point, without argument or question.

“I always kinda thought that we were... I mean, I’d heard some people say that we fought like we were flirting, or like some old married couple,” Ron said with an embarrassed smile.

Harry suddenly felt his irritation suddenly spike, approaching anger. That idea really did not sit well with him. Finally, his five years of torment with Professor Snape paid off: he was able to resist the urge to say something he might have a hard time explaining.

“You know, Ron,” Harry forced himself to say civilly, “I’ll admit I’m not the world’s best expert on understanding girls—”

“That’s for sure,” Ron quipped with a grin.

Even Harry had to agree that was funny. As he smiled, he felt most of his annoyance with his friend disappear.

“But,” Harry continued, “I am pretty sure that arguing is not flirting. At least not the way you two do it.” Ron shook his head a little, agreeing with Harry’s assessment. “I would think... I would hope... that if you were flirting with someone, you would both enjoy it. Isn’t that what flirting is about? I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that when the two of you fight Hermione doesn’t enjoy it. I don’t recall many times seeing her walk away smiling after one of those ‘flirting’ sessions.”

Entirely unexpectedly, Harry suddenly recalled his little battles with Hermione over their favorite seat on the sofa. And the times he teased her about not knowing everything. And the time he made fun of her for using the word “proper” too many times. Whoa! he said to himself. Had he been flirting with Hermione? He wasn’t entirely sure. His prior experience with flirting was nonexistent.

In the little time he’d spent with Cho, he really hadn’t done anything that he’d consider flirting. He thought that flirting was supposed to be playful. He had certainly never done anything like that when they were together. And before that, all he really ever did was just stare at her across the Great Hall, or watch her fly around the Quidditch pitch when Ravenclaw was playing.

So... had he been flirting with Hermione? The only thing stranger than that possibility was the fact that he already knew the answer. Whatever he’d been doing, he enjoyed it, immensely. And he didn’t feel guilty about it either. He couldn’t recall seeing anything that might have indicated that Hermione was hurt by it. She certainly didn’t look like he so often remembered seeing her after she had snapped at Ron for whatever idiotic thing he’d said.

Ron stood there for a moment and processed everything that had been said. “So... maybe I don’t fancy her...” he mused quietly to himself. “But I know I feel differently about her than I do any other girl,” he added, still confused.

“Well, of course you do. So do I.” Somehow, that felt slightly hollow as Harry said it. “She’s our best friend. Of course she’s more special to us than, say, Seamus or Parvati or Susan Bones, or Malfoy,” he added, smirking. The unexpected addition of the infamous ferret boy caused Ron to start laughing very loudly. Everyone else in the room turned away from their own conversations to see why Ron was laughing so hard.

Harry happened to notice that Hermione was still standing with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. When she caught his eye, she looked at him inquisitively and raised her eyebrow as if to ask what was so funny. Oh... now I get what she meant about the eyebrow thing and Mr. Spock, Harry thought as he recalled Hermione showing him one of Dan and Emma’s favorite TV shows a few days earlier.

Harry just smiled at her and shook his head slightly to indicate it really wasn’t worth trying to explain. Truthfully, it really was easy to explain; he just didn’t want to go anywhere near trying to explain to her what he and Ron had been talking about. She nodded slightly, and then smiled at him. As she returned to her conversation with their professors, a big, stupid grin appeared on Harry’s face.

As he shifted his stare right, back towards Ron, he suddenly noticed Luna on the other side of the room again looking in their direction. Harry felt strangely exposed under her unblinking stare; he really hoped she’d been watching Ron. As he waited for Ron to stop laughing, he took several drafts of his Evercold-charmed butterbeer. Butterbeer was just as good warm or cold, depending on the weather.

Now that he and Ron had stopped talking, or at least paused for a while, the other party guests managed to work their way over occasionally to make idle chitchat. After about ten minutes, Molly and Arthur slowly worked their way over to Harry. Seeing his mother approaching, Ron took several steps away from Harry, unwilling to get in the way in case she decided to go in for another hug.

“All right, Harry dear,” Molly said warmly. “It’s time for you to open your birthday presents. I’m sure everyone here is dying to see what you got.”

Harry nodded and allowed her to lead him over to the table with all the presents. He had to admit, he too was eager to see what his friends had gotten him. He was particularly dying to know what that present was that made him feel like he was dying not twenty minutes earlier. When he was ready, Molly again silenced the room. “Okay everyone, present time!” she said in a sing song voice.

Before he could reach for the first present, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and pulled out his wand. He waved it quickly and conjured a large throne-like chair. As Harry looked at it, it reminded him strongly of something from a Muggle Christmas advertisement. It was the type of chair in which Father Christmas would sit.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles twinkling as usual. “I’m sorry, Harry. I just couldn’t resist. Present giving always puts me in a festive mood, regardless of the occasion. Have a seat, Mr. Potter.” Harry looked around the room; everyone was smiling at him, bordering on breaking into laughter. Feeling his face heat up, Harry sat down in the chair.

“If you don’t mind,” the Headmaster started, waving his wand towards the presents. Not sure of what he meant, but unwilling to ask since he still felt on the spot, Harry simply shook his head. With that, Dumbledore gave a quick flick of his wand towards the presents. They all began to hover slightly.

The letter Dumbledore had “delivered” began to rise and floated towards Harry. He would later realize that the Headmaster had enchanted them to deliver themselves to Harry in the order he had been given them. This suited Harry just fine. Although he was most eager to see what Hermione had given him, for some reason, he wanted hers to be last.

Harry reached out and plucked the letter from the air. He looked at it again; it was addressed to him, and sealed with a stamp from the Ministry of Magic. Harry looked up at Dumbledore. Just as he had in his office when confronted by Umbridge with the D.A., the Headmaster gave Harry the tiniest of nods, imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t been looking for it.

Harry opened the letter and began to read it. After the third sentence, he looked back up in shock. He looked at Dumbledore, then down to the letter, then back up again, silently asking if he was supposed to read it aloud. Another nod. Harry cleared his throat, and then took a deep breath.

“To: Mister Harry James Potter.

“It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that due to your selfless acts of bravery on the evening of June the 18th and morning of June the 19th of this year, the Ministry of Magic is honored to award you an Order of Merlin, Third Class.” Harry heard a female voice breathe in suddenly. He kept his eyes on the letter; he was pretty sure if he looked up at everyone, he wouldn’t be able to continue reading.

“Also to be awarded Orders of Merlin, Third Class, are Hermione Jane Granger—” Harry heard the same gasp again; he tried not to smile, but didn’t succeed, “Ronald Bilius Weasley, Ginerva Molly Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood. A private awarding ceremony will be held at your convenience.” Harry paused for a moment to take another deep breath. As he did so, he could hear an excited murmuring in the room.

A private ceremony? Harry pondered. I certainly like the idea of that. No Daily Prophet reporter around misquoting me or spelling names wrong. I can just see it now: ‘Hermyonee.’ I bet she’d just love that!

He continued to read aloud. “Furthermore, due to the events of said night, and considering the nature of the conflict I fear you may soon find yourself in, I hereby decree that you, and the above named individuals, are to be exempt from the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. I trust that you will make good use of your time away from school, if I am to believe the words of the Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot.

“Congratulations on your award.” When Harry saw the next sentence, he quickly skipped to the end of the letter.

“Sincerely, Amelia Susan Bones, Minister of Magic.”

As Harry finished the letter, he looked up and saw that everyone in the room was silent. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all appeared stunned. Even Luna appeared genuinely surprised, and that was saying something. While they all processed what had been said, Harry reread the paragraph he had not read aloud.

Congratulations on your award. I know that it has come at too high of a price. It may be of little comfort, but after discussing the events of fifteen years ago with the Chief Warlock, I just wanted to let you know that I am personally investigating the possibility of having your godfather’s conviction overturned, as well as a public apology issued. It won’t bring him back, but it will set right a wrong done too long ago. I know how you feel about your godfather. The least I can do is try to make sure everyone else sees him in the same light.

Once everyone had seemed to regained their senses, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward for a moment. “As Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot,” he said, humorously trying to sound stuffy and pompous, but then his voice returned to normal, “I would like to point out that you all are still subject to the Statute of Secrecy. Intentional violations will not be ignored.”

Seeing that all five of them seemed to understand, Dumbledore then smiled. “Congratulations, to all of you,” he said.

Please don’t applaud, Harry begged silently. He was already dying of embarrassment enough from sitting in that oversized throne; he didn’t think he could take it if everyone started clapping. Fortunately, the Headmaster then cheerfully shouted out “Next!” The letter returned to the table and Molly’s present slowly began to rise.

Harry eagerly watched this present float over to him. He knew what it was before he even opened it. He tore back the wrapping to find a gloriously large dish of his absolute favorite dessert: treacle tart. Even though everyone was watching him, Harry could not resist stealing a sample. Saying that it was phenomenal was all that was necessary.

Next was Remus’s present. Harry’s breathing hitched for a moment when he tore away the wrapping paper and saw... himself. It was Sirius’s mirror, the second of the pair of matching magical mirrors his father and Sirius used to talk to each other. Feeling a sudden upwelling of emotion, Harry looked up at Remus and nodded a thank you. It was all he could manage. He now regretted breaking the other mirror. He hoped he would be able to fix it.

After the mirror returned to the table, a small box floated over to Harry. This was from Charlie. Harry had been too busy trying to figure out Hermione’s reaction to Fleur kissing him that he hadn’t seen Charlie leave a present on the table. When he opened the box, a small model of a Hungarian Horntail took flight out of the box and lazily flew in a small circle around Harry’s hand.

Harry was absolutely delighted by Charlie’s present. His original model of the Horntail from the Triwizard Tournament was broken sometime early in fifth year (probably during his initial flight to Grimmauld). When Harry found the pieces under one of his books, he had thrown them away; it was, after all only a model.

His attempt to repair it failed, as whatever enchantment gave it its lifelike appearance also interfered with his Reparo spell. After thanking Charlie, rather than let it return to the table, Harry set the Horntail down on the arm of the chair, where it promptly curled up to take a nap.

Harry suddenly found himself becoming very anxious. He really wanted to see what Hermione got him. But he had to get through everyone else’s first. Harry made every effort to speed his way through the remaining presents, however still taking enough time to express genuine, heartfelt thank yous.

From Bill and Fleur, Harry received an eleven Galleon gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. Hagrid had indeed given him a large bag of rock cakes. It really tested Harry’s acting ability to genuinely thank Hagrid. It’s the thought that counts, Harry reminded himself.

Harry held Fred and George’s present with trepidation. When he looked up at them, they were conveniently looking away, busy digging all of the peas out of Molly’s casserole. Harry tore back the plain parchment wrapping and found a small phial of... something. The glass was opaque, so he couldn’t see the contents. A very small card tied around the stopper read “Do not open in a crowded room!” That was good enough for Harry right now.

When Harry opened Ron’s present, he was pleasantly surprised to see that he was correct: Ron did give him a book. But it wasn’t just any book. A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions. He’d seen a copy of it in the Room of Requirement when they were holding D.A. meetings, but he’d never gotten around to looking at it. This was a really cool present. As soon as he got home, he’d have to start looking through it for new ideas for the D.A.

The D.A. Until now, Harry hadn’t given it too much thought. With Umbridge gone, there probably wouldn’t be a need for it anymore. Virtually anyone the Headmaster selected to fill the position would be able to teach it effectively. But still, Harry enjoyed the meetings. Maybe he could make it an official school club, or something like that. He’d have to ask Hermione later what she thought about it.

Damn, Harry suddenly cursed himself as school crossed his mind. I forgot to fill out my timetable. Oh well. Just have to have Hedwig deliver it to McGonagall later.

Harry opened Ginny’s present to find two small bottles of vibrant blue and green liquids. The blue was labeled “Dr. Koolskin’s Aftershave,” the green “Exactly YOU Cologne.” Harry could not help it as he felt his face began to warm up slightly. I wonder if this is how Hermione felt when she thanked Ron for the “interesting” perfume. He looked up to see Ginny smiling shyly, trying to hide her face behind her hair; the two were the same color at the moment.

Ginny was also trying out of embarrassment to get Hermione to stand in front of her. After finally succeeding, she buried her face in the back of Hermione’s shoulder and, by the looks of it, began to giggle. Hermione did not look at all amused. Seeing her roll her eyes in annoyance, Harry shot her a quick grin of amusement; her mood seemed to brighten immediately.

Luna’s present turned out to be a copy of The Quibbler. It was the issue in which he gave his interview earlier that year. Before a confused Harry could ask, Luna explained that it was the very first copy off the printing press. Her father always kept the first five copies for sentimental and archival reasons.

Finally, there was only one present remaining: Hermione’s. This was what Harry had been waiting for. As he reached to grab it out of Professor Dumbledore’s hovering spell, he had to remind himself that it was heavier than it looked. He very carefully set it down on his lap. Yep, still numb, he confirmed.

With great haste, Harry tore away the wrapping paper. Even the wrapping paper was perfectly folded and taped. Based on the size and shape, as well as the weight, he had simply assumed that her present was a book. What he found was certainly not a book.

Hermione had given him a chess set. Harry laughed to himself. A book from Ron and a chess set from Hermione. This however was unlike any chess set he had ever seen. It was an exquisitely beautiful chess set, at least as far as the picture on the box was concerned. According to the packaging, the squares and playing pieces were made of quartz and obsidian.

A word on the packaging suddenly caught his attention. Holly. The frame of the playing board was made of holly. Harry looked at the picture again. This holly didn’t look anything like the holly of his wand. Then again, his wand hadn’t been “skillfully milled by master craftsman,” nor was it “painstaking stained to bring out the unique character of this uncommon wood.” No, Harry assumed the wood for his wand had been selected for its magical properties, not its aesthetic appeal.

Harry was speechless. It was so beautiful, he didn’t know what to say.

How about ‘thank you?’ he suggested to himself. He tried but couldn’t form any words.

Hermione broke free of Ginny’s grasp and stepped forward. “And there’s one other thing, Harry,” she started, taking the box out of his lap. She set it on the table and removed the lid, handing it to him. Inside the cardboard box was a fancy wooden case that safely contained the board and pieces. Harry looked at the cardboard box again as Hermione opened the case.

He recognized this packaging. It was from the game and hobby store they had visited earlier. All of the chess sets there were made by this same company, and all had similar packaging. At the time, he had been focused on the sets themselves. But now that he thought about it, he recalled seeing the company’s logo on the price tags.

“Here, Harry, see?” Hermione called his attention. Harry stood up and stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Hermione as they, and everyone else in the room, looked at the chess set on the table. Harry could feel the upper part of his left arm resting lightly against Hermione’s right. It began to feel oddly warm.

Hermione removed the board as well as two pawns: one white and one black. She set each of them on its starting square, across from each other. She moved the white piece (technically, crystal clear) forward two spaces, then the black piece forward two spaces.

To Harry’s great surprise and shock, the roughly hewn foot soldier (these were pieces of carved crystal and volcanic glass, after all) suddenly came to life and attacked its black counterpart, causing it to break into many pieces with an appropriate, yet oddly satisfying shattering sound. The broken pieces quickly reassembled themselves and the pawn then walked across the board, and back into the wooden case.

“Wow!” was all Harry managed. He looked at Hermione in wonderment. How was this possible? As far as he knew, this was an ordinary Muggle chess set. Before he could ask her, he felt Ron’s hand on his right shoulder, pulling him back slightly so he could get a better look.

“Wicked!” Ron proclaimed. “Will you let me have a go sometime?” he asked in excitement.

Harry smiled and nodded. While Harry had to admit to himself that Hermione’s present was by far and away his favorite, he wanted to make sure Ron knew that he hadn’t already forgotten about his present, and that he liked it also. “But only if we can go through some of the spells in here,” he proposed, pointing to Compendium.

“Deal,” Ron agreed eagerly, and then picked up a black and white knight, inspecting the pieces closely.

With Ron presently occupied, Harry turned back to Hermione with an inquisitive look, to ask about the set.

“Later,” she said happily as she looked over his shoulder. Harry turned and saw that Molly had brought up the cake and set it down on the table where the leftovers from lunch had been consolidated onto two trays and pushed over to one side.

Harry felt Hermione put her hand on his back and push him slightly towards the table. He didn’t think he could’ve put up any resistance to that, even if his head hadn’t started swimming at her touch. When he got to the cake, he found that it was in the shape of Gryffindor Tower. On the glorious Honeyduke’s chocolate frosting was “Happy Birthday Harry!” written in red and gold icing.

Molly handed him a large knife. “If you would do the honors, dear,” she said kindly. Harry looked at the cake, and decided to start with the spire of the tower. As he began to cut, the cake suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream. Harry let go of the knife in shock; it remained stuck in the cake. From the cut, what appeared to be strawberry gel filling suddenly started gushing out like blood. Fred and George began laughing riotously. Everyone in the room turned to look at them.

“What?” Fred asked innocently. “We didn’t touch the frosting, like we were told.”

Molly appeared to have the wrath of God in her eyes as she began to take a step forward. Deciding he would save the twins, but torment them a little at the same time, Harry quickly cleared his throat.

“Please Mrs. Weasley,” he started. She turned back to look at him. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Fred and George grinned at each other. Harry then put on the most innocent looking expression he could manage. “I’ll deal with them... later.” Molly turned to look at Fred and George.

Seeing the looks of genuine fear appear on their faces (which rarely happened), Molly turned back to Harry and smiled at him. “Very well. If you insist. But please don’t do anything that might get you sent to Azkaban,” she said seriously; Harry knew, however, she was enjoying it as much as he was.

Fred and George smiled again, realizing it was all a joke. Unfortunately for them, Harry saw them smile. “Oh don’t worry about that, Mrs. Weasley. I would never do anything... like that,” he said, then smiled innocently to Fred and George. Their looks of fear returned. Harry heard Hermione cough beside him to conceal a laugh.

A couple minutes later, the cake was cut (George generously volunteered to remove the screaming charm, as well as the charm that caused the filling to gush out). For a minute, Harry was standing by himself, eating his cake before Ginny came over and stood by his side.

“Hi Harry,” she greeted him excitedly. “How’s the cake?”

“Brilliant! Remind me to thank your mum,” he replied as they both watched the rest of the guests wander around chatting.

“I made the strawberry filling,” she offered hopefully.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry replied. As soon as he said it, he realized it sounded less enthusiastic than he meant. “It’s very good,” he added, as he turned his head slightly to look at her. Ginny seemed to perk up a little.

“Did you... um... like my present?” she asked shyly. Harry could see a slight pink tint return to her cheeks.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry replied. “I’ll have to try them out when I get home,” he added. Ginny’s pink hue faded.

“Well... that’s good. I hope you like them,” she said. She then looked over at Ron and suddenly changed the subject. “Looks like Ron’s in trouble again.”

Harry looked over and saw that Luna had again seemed to ensnare Ron in a conversation. She was standing there, waving a fork with a piece of cake on it around as she spoke. Ron was staring intently at his own cake as he ate it. Harry couldn’t tell if he was listening or not (he assumed not).

Hermione joined Harry and Ginny a minute later, stepping in between them. There was barely enough space between them for her to fit without bumping into either of them, but she managed it anyway.

“Hey Ginny, what do you say we go rescue your brother, huh?” Hermione offered.

Ginny seemed to brighten a little. “Okay,” she said, and the two of them left for the other side of the room. Part of Harry was disappointed that Hermione hadn’t spoken to him, but part of him was glad he wouldn’t have to talk about his new cologne with Ginny.

Harry watched as Hermione and Ginny walked over to Luna and Ron. Hermione skillfully interrupted them; Ginny appeared very pleased. Her face dropped slightly when a few moments later, Hermione sent Ron back over to Harry while she, Ginny, and Luna stayed on their side of the room.

“Thanks a lot,” Ron said sarcastically as he walked up to him. Harry was confused. He assumed Ron would welcome the interruption. He looked blankly at Ron, hoping he would explain.

“‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ you said,” Ron started. “She’s been writing to me every day since then. That’s what happened.”

Harry fought to not smile. “Who? Luna?” he asked innocently.

“Yeah, Luna,” Ron replied. “Ever since I replied to her letter, she’s written to me every day. Do you know, they have the weirdest owl. It just sits there and watches me. Kinda like her, actually, now that I think about it,” Ron said, looking back across the room over at Luna.

“Maybe the owl fancies you,” Harry teased. “You know... kinda like...” Harry let his voice trail off, wagging his eyebrows.

“And of course,” Ron continued, either not catching Harry’s hint or intentionally ignoring it, “I had to reply to each one of them, just to be nice,” he said, repeating what Harry wrote in his earlier letter.

And when has Ron worried about not being nice to someone? Harry wondered, amused.

“Under his radar.” Hermione’s words suddenly echoed thought Harry’s mind. Ron did say that he’d replied to each one of them. He could have ignored her. And as annoyed as he appeared, he didn’t actually seem to be angry.

Harry considered Ron’s reaction for a few more seconds, then asked, “Well, was that so bad?”

“Well... no... not really. It’s just that... well, it’s Loony Lovegood, that’s all,” Ron said, as if that explained everything.

“And it did give you someone to talk to, didn’t it?” Harry pressed on. “I’m sure writing to me every day wouldn’t have been a good idea. They might’ve traced the owls.”

Ron considered this for a moment. “Well, that’s true, I suppose.” Neither Harry nor Ron knew that Hermione had been corresponding daily with Ginny leading up to the party with no worries about the owls being traced.

“Better than talking to Percy,” Ron said sarcastically.

“She isn’t quite so bad, you know, when you actually talk to her. You kinda get used to her,” Ron said as he looked back to Luna. “She still says some weird things sometimes I grant you, but, you know, what do you expect?”

Under his radar, indeed, Harry thought to himself. He decided to take a chance. “And she is a brilliant kisser,” he whispered to Ron. As soon as he said it, Harry remembered Ron’s confused reaction after seeing Luna kiss him. He decided to take another chance.

“So, Ron,” Harry started casually, “what do you think of her, as a girl?”

Ron looked suddenly surprised. “Who? Luna?” he asked incredulously. Harry nodded. Ron looked as her as though he was studying her, as if he never really consciously considered that possibility.

“Well...” Ron started uncertainly. “She... is... kinda cute... in her own weird way. She is a blonde. That’s always a plus. And... you do have to admit... she is rather... well put together,” Ron said, turning his back to everyone and holding his cupped hands in front of his chest with a sly grin.

Harry took a second look at Luna. She certainly wasn’t unattractive, by any means, and as far as being put together, she seemed rather average. But if Ron thought otherwise, Harry certainly wasn’t going to say anything.

Ron continued to stare at Luna for a few seconds, obviously mulling things over. Unexpectedly, Luna looked over towards Harry and Ron. Upon seeing Ron looking at her, she immediately turned back to Ginny.

Seeing this, Harry nudged Ron in the arm. “Did you see that Ron? I think she might fancy you,” he said in a teasing voice. He had suspected it for quite awhile, but now seemed to be the perfect chance to actually bring it up with Ron.

“You’re mental,” Ron said in disbelief.

“Am I?” Harry asked. “Remember how she was always staring at you last year? Remember how she wanted to carry Pig’s cage? Oh, you weren’t there for that. Remember that lion hat of hers? Remember her always singing ‘Weasley—’”

“Enough,” Ron interrupted, “I get the point.” He looked positively embarrassed, though he was still looking at her.

“You know, half the fun is simply knowing that they already like you. Go on, talk to her,” Harry prodded him. He pushed him a step forward. Ron didn’t resist, but also didn’t continue walking either.

“Go on,” Harry exhorted. “What’s the worst that can happen?” Ron turned and looked askance at Harry. “Okay, fine. What’s the best that can happen?” Ron stopped and seemed to consider this for a moment. Harry couldn’t resist. “She’s blonde, you know? And a great kisser.” A moment later, he suddenly realized he didn’t want to know what Ron thought might be the best that could happen.

A slight smile appeared on Ron’s face, but then he quickly hid it. “Wouldn’t it be nice if ‘the trio’ became a quartet?” Harry suggested. Coincidently enough, the additional possibility of Harry adding someone and Hermione adding someone to make it a group of six never occurred to him.

Ron put his right foot forward, then back again as though he was debating what to do. “Just talk to her,” Harry encouraged him. “You don’t have to ask her out. You don’t have to snog her. Just talk to her.”

“A good kisser, huh?” Ron asked.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he noticed it this time. “Just talk to her,” he repeated.

“She is kinda cute,” Ron repeated, as if he was trying to talk himself into doing it. “No offense, but now that I think about it, Hermione is rather plain looking. I...”

Whatever Ron said after that, Harry did not hear. All he heard were both voices in his mind scream out simultaneously.

WHAT??!!

After that, all Harry could do was stare dumbfounded at Ron, watching him speak, but not hearing any of his words. He could only make out bits and pieces of the overlapping screaming in his mind.

Of all the...

... planet are...

How dare...

...most beautiful girl...

And then suddenly... silence.

What was that? Harry heard his own voice asking.

Um... nothing. I didn’t say anything, his reasonable side replied, sounding entirely unconvinced. It was strange for Harry to hear such uncertainty in Hermione’s voice. He knew it wasn’t Hermione, but still, it sounded like her voice.

If that voice had a face, Harry was certain it would be smirking right now. No... I’m pretty sure you just said something... something about Hermione being the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

No I didn’t.

Liar!

For another moment, silence. Oh bugger! How in the bloody hell did that happen?

It’s true then! Harry’s voice exclaimed in triumph.

Of course it’s true. And you know it.

Yeah I knew it. But I had to wait for YOU to say it to know that it REALLY was true.

When did Hermione go from just our best friend to the most beautiful girl we’ve ever seen?

Honestly? I think it happened when we were asking Ron all those questions about whether he fancied her or not. Every time we listed an example, somehow she just got prettier with each one.

Well... so what? Harry’s reasonable side argued. No big deal right? There are lots of beautiful girls in the world. Hermione’s just the most beautiful. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?

If you say so. Harry’s voice didn’t seem at all convinced. It’s just that she suddenly became that in the last two weeks, it said sardonically. She must’ve obviously just grown into it... in two weeks. Right? Nothing ELSE could have changed, right?

Right, Harry’s reasonable voice agreed, though it didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Suddenly, Harry realized Ron was waving his hand at him, trying to get his attention. “Are you all right mate?

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” Harry assured him. “I was... just thinking about something. My mind was wandering for a moment.”

Wandering where? Harry’s internal voice teased.

Shut up! the Hermione-voice snapped, though Harry could somehow just feel that it was embarrassed.

“I was just saying that I must be mental for even considering this,” Ron explained, casting a glance over at Luna. He then laughed slightly. “But not as mental as any bloke that fancies Hermione,” he added under his breath. He then listed again everything about her that annoyed him, adding a couple more this time.

As he stood there, Harry realized that all those same qualities Ron thought annoying, he found rather endearing.

“Just talk to her?” Ron confirmed. “What the heck! I’ll give it a shot.”

Harry wanted to tell Ron that you don’t just “give it a shot,” but he had already started to walk away. Before going over to Luna, Ron must have decided he needed a little gastronomical courage, for he first made a detour back to the food table and grabbed another sandwich and took two bites, and then just stood there holding it protectively like a security blanket.

At the table, Ron did not move. He looked unwilling to approach Luna with Hermione and Ginny standing there. He looked pleadingly at Harry, who nodded and started starting intently at Hermione, hoping he’d get her attention. After a few seconds, Hermione must have felt him watching her, for she turned to look at him inquisitively.

Harry jerked his head back slightly to indicate she should come over. Hermione tilted her head as if to ask why. Harry stared hard at Ron, then Luna, then back to Ron. He then looked back to Hermione, then Ginny, then back to Hermione again, then nodded his head back once more to again ask them to come over.

A surprised, but pleased look appeared on Hermione’s face. Harry nodded with a smile, and then signaled a third time for them to come over. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna really hadn’t been talking, just eating their cake; Hermione turned to Luna and said something (probably that they would be back in a minute), and then politely grabbed Ginny by the arm and dragged her away.

Harry watched Ron take one last motivating bite of his sandwich, and then throw the half-eaten sandwich back onto the tray with the other sandwiches. As he approached Luna, Ron suddenly looked over at Harry and stared pointedly at him. Harry nodded, then turned away so as not to watch him.

When Hermione and Ginny came over to him, Harry set down his now empty plate and then grabbed their hands and turned them so they too weren’t looking in Ron’s direction.

“Ginny,” Harry asked quietly. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Harry,” she eagerly replied.

“Would you go ask Fred and George to leave Ron alone for the next few minutes?”

“Why?” she asked. Ginny then glanced over her shoulder and saw Ron talking to Luna, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets in nervousness. “Oh,” she realized, her face dropping slightly.

“Um, okay,” she finally agreed without much enthusiasm. “But I doubt they’ll listen to me.”

“Just tell them that I’m asking them politely,” Harry said, grinning.

Ginny seemed unconvinced, but... finally, “All right.” She then walked over to where Fred and George were standing. They were watching Ron intently with devious smiles on their faces. When Ginny went over to them, she said something to them. The twins then turned simultaneously to look at Harry; Harry just smiled innocently at them. The look of disappointment mixed with a hint of fear was quite amusing. Ginny then walked over and joined her parents.

“So I take it I missed something,” Hermione asked quietly with a slight grin.

“Just kill me now,” Harry begged her with a smile. “I think I’m turning into Parvati and Lavender over here. I just talked Ron into talking to Luna... ‘talking’ talking.”

“You didn’t?” Hermione asked in amazed disbelief. Harry nodded weakly.

“Please, promise me that you’ll never try to hook me up with some complete stranger,” Harry asked with a smile.

Hermione considered him for a moment.

“No strangers, huh? That I can do,” she replied with a mischievous grin.

Harry saw her grin. Maybe I should’ve been a little more specific... he mused to himself. But, alas, it was too late. He worried that if he brought it up again, it would look suspicious. He’d originally said it just as a joke, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew there was more truth in that statement than he’d first realized.

Hermione looked at Harry again. “But only if you promise that you won’t try to hook me up with anyone either,” she said, grinning again.

Yeah, like I’d ever try to get you interested in anyone other...

“That I can do,” Harry mimicked back, and then smiled. With the conversation ending abruptly, Harry could do nothing but look at Hermione for a few more seconds. As he did, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation.

He could feel something building in his chest. Something that reminded him of how he felt when he kissed Hermione just a little while ago. Something that reminded him of how he felt when he took her hands and helped her off the floor after their Portkey arrival, or when she touched his back earlier to guide him to the cake As this feeling grew, he began to worry that it might cause him to do something that he could not undo.

So he smiled once more then forced himself to look away. Harry turned to sneak a glance at Ron. Ron still looked as nervous as before, but it did appear that he was actually talking to Luna. He didn’t seem to notice Harry looking at him.

Ron’s earlier words echoed through Harry’s mind. “But not as mental as any bloke that fancies Hermione.”

Considering his behavior in the last few minutes, Harry expected that this would annoy him. And yet, now, he found it mildly amusing.

Based on the last five years, and especially these last two weeks, Harry’s reasonable side said humorously, not paying attention where this thought might lead, if anyone were to start fancying her, it’d be me.

The voice managed to get out one laugh before suddenly silencing itself.

Harry had heard the word used once or twice before, but now he finally, truly understood what an epiphany was.

OH MY GOD!! I FANCY HERMIONE!! Harry distinctly heard both voices in his mind scream in panic.

It was a rare occasion when the two voices came to the same conclusion. It wasn’t so much that they disagreed with each other; they simply looked at the world differently, and therefore usually came to different conclusions. One was more based on instinct, emotion, and subconscious thoughts. The other was more rational and, ever since he realized it was Hermione’s voice in fifth year, tended to act also as his conscience.

So, when they did say the same thing, it was impossible to ignore. Harry’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly looked around; no one was looking directly at him. That made him relax a little... but only a little.

Was it true? Could it be true? Deep down, he knew it was true. It just seemed too fantastic to believe. He fancied her. Harry James Potter fancied Hermione Jane Granger. It seemed impossible to believe... and yet... it made sense.

Again, he never said or thought those words. It was simply a feeling, an understanding. It was true.

And as quickly as that, every odd thing that had happened in the last two weeks finally fell into place.

How he felt when he first saw Hermione at the front door. How he felt when she told him he was staying with them. How he felt before going shopping, when he realized that something was causing him to be happy when he should have been sad. There were lots more, but Harry knew they were all the same. He remembered thinking before they left for the mall how he promised himself that if he ever figured out what “it” was that had caused the changes, he’d never let go of it.

Well, now he knew: it was his best friend. His best friend whom he just happened to fancy and think was the most beautiful girl in the world. It was as simple as that.

Harry slowly turned to look back at Hermione. Fortunately the look of shock had finally died from his face. His insides however, were a right mess. Excitement, fear, happiness, terror, anticipation, dread... it was all there.

When he finally could see her properly, Harry could see that Hermione too had been watching Ron and Luna. She looked at him and smiled again. Harry immediately felt all of the fear washed away by that same bubbly, giddy feeling he felt earlier. He was so overwhelmed by it, he was tempted to start giggling. Fortunately, his self control was strong enough to at least keep him from doing that.

In a daze, Harry grinned dumbly back.

Oh, I am in trouble now, Harry thought to himself.

---

A/N: FINALLY!! YAY!! Harry figured it out. I must say though that we aren’t at the end yet. Remember, this story is planned to end once they are together, so we still have a few more chapters to go. Many of these chapters will be “live,” covering only a very brief window... for example, July 31 lasts 6 ½ chapters: last half of 12 through 18. Other chapters will be much more sparse. August will probably last one to two chapters (unless I’m struck by some NEW rabid plot bunny). I PROMISE it won’t take Harry two years to get together with Hermione, like it did with Cho. Remember, I know how the story ends, so I’m just as eager to get there as you are!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: Hello everyone. Sorry for the delay in getting this posted. R/L reared its ugly nose there for a short while, and combined with Thanksgiving, I lost several prime writing days. But, I trust that I will be able to make up for it... with this... a double update! Well, not exactly, since the second chapter will be posted a couple days after this one. But hey, at least it’s not two weeks! Heh heh heh. Monday, at the absolute latest... I PROMISE!

Thanks go out, as always, to my beta, MapleMountain, who braved a snowstorm to edit my story. Well, that and he had to return to his family... but hey, details!

And speaking of details, yes, I know the scientific name for snowy owls here is “now” incorrect. But since this is set several years ago, and since the wizarding world tends to be behind the times a bit, I decided to use the older one.

Chapter 16. Of Owls and Elves.

When he finally could see her properly, Harry could see that Hermione too had been watching Ron and Luna. She looked at him and smiled again. Harry immediately felt all of the fear washed away by that same bubbly, giddy feeling he felt earlier. He was so overwhelmed by it, he was tempted to start giggling. Fortunately, his self control was strong enough to at least keep him from doing that.

In a daze, Harry grinned dumbly back.

Oh, I am in trouble now, Harry thought to himself.

Harry stood there, staring at Hermione in complete shock... and bliss. He had to say it (okay, fine, think it) just one more time, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it. I fancy Hermione. He didn’t believe it, and yet, it felt absolutely right. It was true.

Before he had much of a chance to decide what to do next, Hermione turned to him again, looking very excited. “Harry, she’s going over there!”

“What?” he asked numbly, snapping out of his reverie.

“Professor McGonagall just walked over to Ron,” she said. “Aren’t you paying attention?”

Yeah, to you, he thought. “Erm, no,” he answered.

“I bet she’s going to offer him the captaincy now. That means you’ll be prefect soon!”

“Oh no!” Harry suddenly whispered. Before she could ask what he meant, he grabbed her by the arms and turned the two of them so that he was directly between Ron and Hermione, and so his back was to Ron.

“I can’t let Ron see me,” Harry explained. “If he looks over at me, I’ll probably start grinning like an idiot. He’ll know that I know. Like McGonagall said, I don’t want him to do it because I’ll be prefect. I want him to do it because he wants to. The only way he’ll be a good captain is if he wants to be. Tell me what happens... but don’t be obvious that you’re watching him!”

Hermione laughed at Harry for just a second. “Okay. She’s talking to Luna. Luna’s walking away. She actually looks annoyed at being interrupted with Ron. Wow! Okay. McGonagall’s talking to Ron now. Quietly, it looks like.” Hermione suddenly pulled her head back in so she couldn’t see Ron.

“Ron just started to look over here. Only saw his face for a fraction of a second, but he looked to be in shock. I think she just told him.” Hermione peeked her head back out. “Okay, he’s looking at her again. Heh heh, she probably told him to not look at you, that she was asking him, not you.”

“Well, she did...” Harry whispered.

“But does Ron need to know that? Besides, as I recall, you never did say that she asked you to be the captain. She just asked you if you knew of anyone willing to be the captain. Right? You can’t be one hundred percent certain she wanted you to be captain, can you?”

Harry caught on. “I guess I can’t,” he agreed, smiling.

“Okay, Ron just ran out, nearly knocked Ginny over. Probably going to get his prefect badge,” Hermione said, smirking.

“Okay, I think it’s safe to turn around now,” Harry decided, though he had been perfectly happy to stay there all day, watching Hermione, and her lips, speak. Ron returned a minute later, nearly knocking Luna over this time (though he did stop to apologize). He quickly strode over to Professor McGonagall and surreptitiously put something in her hand. She then pulled something out of her own pocket.

Professor McGonagall turned to face the crowd. “Your attention, everyone. Your attention, please. As Head of Gryffindor House, I have several announcements to make. First, I am proud to announce that Gryffindor has a new Quidditch Captain this year.” Harry noticed everyone in the room—other than Hermione, Ron, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore—look in his direction. He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Mr. Ronald Weasley,” McGonagall finally announced as she handed him the Quidditch Captain badge. The awkward silence that should have followed would have been deafening if it weren’t filled with the enthusiastic cheers and applause from the four who already knew.

After a moment for it to sink in, and once everyone realized that Harry seemed genuinely happy to “again miss out” on what was a highly coveted position, everyone else joined in congratulating Ron. Molly rushed forward to envelope her youngest son in a death grip of a hug. Harry noticed Luna staring dreamily at Ron as usual.

“One more announcement, please,” Professor McGonagall spoke above the hubbub. “Being captain is a tremendous responsibility. I therefore cannot allow him to be both captain and prefect at the same time. So, with Mr. Weasley’s rather enthusiastic permission, I am pleased to announce our new sixth year prefect: Mr. Harry Potter.”

This time, it was Ron and Hermione’s cheers, along with his professors’ applause, that filled the stunned silence. But then everyone else began to applaud energetically as Professor McGonagall came over and handed him Ron’s prefect badge. Harry saw Molly come barreling toward him. As he mentally and physically prepared himself for his fate, he was surprised to find a pair of arms wrap around him... arms that did not belong to Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione, to Harry’s ecstatic surprise, had captured him in another one of her death grip hugs. It certainly was worthy of the one he received on his first day at her house. As he felt her warmth against him, he could feel his mind washing away as the pleasant floral scent of her shampoo once again invaded his senses.

Only a burning sensation on his cheek snapped him out of it. Hermione had kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh shush, you two,” Hermione scolded Fred and George after she let go of Harry and they began to whistle suggestively. “I’m just congratulating him,” Hermione said exasperatedly, though she did look a little self-conscious. “If you two made prefect or captain, you’d get one too.”

“Hey,” Ron called out from across the room in a mock-offended voice, “I’m captain. How come I didn’t get one?”

“Because, Ronald,” she explained, “I am on this side of the room, and Harry is on this side of the room. You are on that side of the room.” Hermione then smiled. “But if you insist...” she added, holding out her arms as if inviting him for a hug.

A voice suddenly spoke up. “That’s okay. I’ll do it.” Before anyone realized it, Luna went up to Ron and gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek and then walked back to where she’d been standing as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Fred and George looked pleadingly at Harry; he nodded. They then turned and started whistling at Ron and clapping. Ron turned bright red and then touched his cheek where Luna had kissed him. A few minutes later, everyone had made it around the room to congratulate the new prefect and captain.

About an hour later, Harry was talking to Tonks about the Auror training program when something white caught his attention at the window behind her. Harry focused his attention and saw that it was Metis. After excusing himself for moment, he started to head to the window.

Hermione however must have seen Metis before he did, for she beat him to the window and opened it, allowing her owl to hop into the room. A moment later, Metis was sitting contentedly on Hermione’s shoulder. Harry looked to the window. If Metis was here, Hedwig would not be far behind. He strained his eyes and saw off in the distance, a small white speck.

Eagerly waiting for Hedwig to arrive, Harry looked over at Hermione and nodded slightly, ready to play his role again in their little owl game.

As he turned to look back out the window, Harry heard Ron come up to them. “Whose owl is that?” he asked curiously.

Harry turned back to Ron. He couldn’t... “What do you mean?” Harry asked innocently.

“I mean, whose owl is that?” Ron said as if it was the most obvious question in the world, which, really, it was. “I mean, I’ve seen Hedwig for five years now, so I know that’s not her. And I don’t know anyone else with an owl like her, so... whose owl is that?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other; they knew this wasn’t going to work. So, Hermione decided to fess up.

“Well, now you do know someone with an owl like Hedwig. This, Ron, is my new owl, Metis. Isn’t she beautiful?” The fondness in her voice strongly reminded Harry of Hagrid looking at some illegal, dangerous creature.

An envious, but not jealous, look appeared on Ron’s face. “No way!” Ron shouted in excitement. Most everyone in the room turned to look and see what he was shouting at. With perfect timing, Hedwig flew in the open window and landed on the ledge. Harry held out his arm, to which she flew. He then set her on his shoulder.

With the arrival of this new snowy owl, everyone rushed over to hear Hermione’s story of how she got Metis. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Tonks smirking at him. She obviously remembered the extended version that included a broken door.

A short while later, Ron brought down Hermes’ and Errol’s perches (Hermes was in his cage in Percy’s room). After some water and leftover chicken, Hedwig and Metis were soon perched contentedly, watching the goings on of the party.

Luna soon came up to Harry and Hermione. “Such a beautiful Nyctea scandiaca,” she said in her usual dreamy voice.

“A what?” Hermione asked a little surprised.

“A snowy owl,” Luna replied. “Didn’t you know their Latin name? My father is an avid bird watcher. We have all sorts of books on different species of birds. I could loan you one, if you’d like, since it seems you might like to learn more about them,” Luna said rather straightforward.

Hermione seemed rather wrong-footed, though Harry suspected it was more from the fact that Luna knew something that she didn’t, rather than her rather abrupt way of saying it.

“No thanks,” Hermione said politely, but tersely.

“Okay,” Luna replied airily as if she didn’t notice anything about Hermione’s tone. She then walked away.

Harry looked at Hermione for a moment. “It really bothers you that she knows more about owls than you do?” he asked gently.

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. Seeing Harry look disbelievingly at her, she softened slightly. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Well, she IS a Ravenclaw, after all.” Harry said. “It was bound to happen sooner or later that one of them would know something that you didn’t. But at least she didn’t hold it over you... at least I don’t think she did.” Harry shook his head slightly. It was hard to read Luna sometimes. He then smirked. “Can you imagine if it had been Cho?”

“Don’t remind me,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes, then smiling. “I know all about Post Owls and their magic... but I’ve never really gotten around to studying the individual species themselves. I probably know about as much as you do about regular owls themselves.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he teased. “Fine, if it makes you feel better, I’ll find you the ultimate guide to birds for your birthday, okay?”

“Thanks,” she said half-heartedly, and then smiled.

About half an hour later, Pig returned after delivering a work-related letter to Gringott’s for Bill. No one paid any attention to him until a loud, almost barking sound was heard. Everyone turned to see Pig fluttering madly around Hedwig and Metis. Both of the larger owls’ feathers were ruffled and they were flapping their wings, as if to shoo Pig away. Metis kept trying to snap at Pig as he flew by.

Hermione turned to Ron and called across the room. “Ron, I don’t think my owl likes your owl.”

Ron turned and looked annoyedly at Pig twittering around. “Yeah, what else is new? Bird’s bloody annoying,” he said, shaking his head. Luna slowly walked over to near where Pig was zooming around, watching him fly with fascination. Hedwig and Metis, in the meantime, flew up to the top of one of the bookcases where there wasn’t room for Pig to fly around above them.

To everyone’s immense surprise, Luna suddenly reached out and literally snatched Ron’s tiny Scops owl from the air, mid-flight. She did it so quickly, even Harry was surprised, and impressed.

“Maybe he just wants a little attention,” Luna said simply. “A bird like this is probably always feeling overshadowed by the larger owls.” Luna began stoking Pig’s head, just as Harry often did to Hedwig. Pig immediately seemed to calm down.

“You should probably go put him away for now,” Luna said as she brought Pig over to Ron, holding him out for Ron to take. Looking at her in shock, Ron simply nodded dumbly and started to head to his room. Luna followed, still holding Pig.

Right at the last moment, Ron must’ve snapped out of it, for he turned to Luna as they walked out the room, “Hey, Luna, you ever play Seeker in Quidditch?”

Watching Ron and Luna walk out, Harry let out a slight laugh. He turned around to Hermione. Before he could comment of what had just happened, several things happened in very rapid succession.

First, Harry heard a loud cracking noise that was vaguely familiar. He realized he was stepping on something. He heard a loud yelp, then felt his feet leave the floor... then darkness consumed everything.

Harry awoke a minute later lying on the floor, with a splitting headache and a very warm hand. Owww... he thought to himself. While his head throbbed, his hand felt very nice. He opened his eyes to find Hermione kneeling over him, looking down at him, very worried. The warmth he felt was her hand in his.

He struggled to sit upright. “What happened?” he asked weakly. Before anyone could answer him, he saw an unconscious Dobby lying on the floor. Professor Dumbledore then stepped forward.

“It seems, Harry, that in his excitement to get here, Dobby appeared literally underfoot... your foot to be exact. I’m afraid you discovered the hard way a house-elf’s defensive magic. He reacted, knocking you away when you accidentally stepped on his foot. He seemed intent on beating his head against the wall when he realized what he did to you, so I had to stun him for a moment.”

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, helping him stand up, still holding his hand.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said once he was sure his legs wouldn’t fall out from under him. He gave her hand a squeeze in reassurance. She finally let go of it.

“Well, we should probably wake him up, now that I’m up,” Harry said, trying to smile.

“Ennervate!” Dumbledore said, waking the elf.

Dobby opened his eyes, blinking. When he saw Harry standing over him, he immediately jumped up and then fell to his knees, sobbing.

“Dobby is most sorry, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is not meaning to hurt him. Dobby reacted when he is stepped on... Dobby is most sorry!” he wailed.

“Dobby!” Harry shouted firmly, to get his attention. Dobby looked up with his large, tear-filled green eyes. “Did you mean to hurt me?”

“NO, SIR!”

“Was it an accident?”

“YES, SIR. Dobby is MOST sorry!”

“Then I forgive you, Dobby. You don’t need to punish yourself any more.”

Dobby’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is feeling most better. Dobby wanted to bring you his gift, sir. Harry’s Wheezy said master would be liking them. Dobby is most happy to give them. Dobby paid for them with his pay from Hogwarts.”

Dobby handed Harry a box which had obviously been wrapped by someone at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry looked over at Ron. His ears had turned slightly red and he was looking away, trying to appear interested watching Hedwig and Metis watch him.

Harry opened the box to find a pair of red boxers with tiny gold snitches all over them. He heard a squeak of an “Oh!” right next to him. Turning, he saw Hermione walk quickly away and join Ron watching the owls. Harry felt like his face was on fire.

“Th-Thank you, Dobby,” Harry said through his embarrassment. “I’ll... erm... try them later.”

“Dobby is having one more present for sir. Dobby is wanting to clean up for sir after the party!”

“Oh! Thank you. I’m sure that can be arranged,” Harry said as he looked around the room for Molly. His eyes landed on Hermione instead. He turned back to the elf. “But only if I can pay you.” Before Dobby could reply, Harry added in a whisper, “But I’ll let you tell me how much to pay you. Deal?”

The diminutive house-elf considered it for a moment. “Deal,” he finally agreed. “Dobby must be paid... one Sickle, sir.” Harry reached down to shake Dobby’s hand; his tennis ball-sized eyes began to water as he shook Harry’s hand.

Harry could hear him muttering to himself as he walked away towards the staircase to the kitchen. “Sir is offering to shake Dobby’s hand...”

Harry went over to join Ron and Hermione to see what was so interesting about Hedwig and Metis. He put a hand on each of their shoulders as he came up to them; both jumped.

When he turned around, Ron was snickering slightly; Hermione was still a little pink in the cheeks.

“So... did sir like Dobby’s present?” Ron asked, trying not to laugh.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said in good humor. “I’ll be sure to have him give you the same thing in front of Luna at your party.”

“Hey,” Ron defended, “I never told him to give it to you then. I just made an innocent suggestion to him of what to give you when he stopped by earlier.”

“What? He was here earlier? When was this?” Harry asked curiously.

“Oh,” Ron said as if he just remembered something. “Soon after we moved in, we found Kreacher dead in his little den.” Hermione gasped suddenly.

Ron looked like he wanted to say something about Kreacher or S.P.E.W. just then, but he wisely decided against it after a hard stare from Harry.

“Anyway, we couldn’t get him out. Anytime anyone tried to reach in to get him, they would get shocked. Professor Dumbledore brought Dobby here to... fix... it,” Ron said, not knowing how else to phrase it. He then closed his eyes as he tried to remember what he’d heard earlier.

“Dobby said that when the last member of a family died, the house-elf bound to that family died a short while later. Long enough to... put the family affairs into order?” Ron said uncertainly, still trying to remember everything. “Afterwards, all of its leftover magic sort of hovers over its body protecting it... or something like that.

“Professor Dumbledore said that was one of the reasons he brought Winky to Hogwarts,” Ron explained. “Since she is now bound to the school, she wouldn’t die after the Crouches did.”

“But what about Malfoy’s mum?” Harry chose not to mention the other female Black.

“‘The family dies with the name’” Ron quoted. “Mum said that even though she was born a Black, she’s now a Malfoy. And you just know that families like that would never get married without binding magical contracts... so, now... in a magical sense, she’s a Malfoy and not a Black.”

Hermione smirked. “So much for the sanctity of pure blood lineage.”

“Yeah,” both Harry and Ron agreed.

“So, what happened with Kreacher?” Harry asked.

“Oh,” Ron replied, beginning to look a little uncomfortable. “Dobby asked us to give him a large knife. He then asked us to leave the room. Said it was private house-elf business. A few moments later, all of the elf heads on the wall disappeared.

“When he said we could go back in, Dobby said it was done,” Ron explained. “Kreacher was gone. He then asked Dumbledore to take him back to school. He didn’t want to talk for a while after that,” Ron said quietly.

As the afternoon drew on, the number of guests began to dwindle. Hagrid was the first to leave, saying, “I’s feedin’ time, Harry. Got ter go an’ feed’m befer they eat me outta house’n home.” Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked at each other, not wanting to know. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall accompanied him, saying that they had plenty of start of term business to attend. Before leaving, Professor Dumbledore promised to return promptly at five o’clock to see them back to Wandsworth.

The six oldest Weasleys, plus Fleur but minus Molly, all decided to pay a visit to Fred and George’s shop. The twins said they had some brand new items they wanted to show off before unveiling. Tonks said she had a bunch of paperwork waiting back at the Ministry with her name on it. Remus, who had nothing else do to, offered to go with her. Ginny and Luna headed to her room to talk about whatever they talked about when they talked.

With the departure of most of the guests, the drawing room once again had enough room for furniture. Molly carried all of the shrunken furniture in from the other room, then returned it all to normal size. When she said that she would head down to start cleaning up, Harry quickly pulled her aside.

“Mrs. Weasley? Do you have a second?”

“Of course, dear. Anything for you.”

“I was wondering... would you prevent someone from giving me a present because you wanted to do the same thing?”

Molly looked aghast. “Of course not! Why would you think that?”

Harry was slightly embarrassed. That hadn’t come out the way he intended. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant is that Dobby is downstairs. He wants to clean up the house as part of his present to me. You will let him give me his present, won’t you? By himself... unless he asks you for help?”

Molly looked like she wanted to object, but after a moment, she finally realized what he was trying to get at earlier. She finally relented. “Yes, Harry, dear. I will let Dobby give you his present... but only because it’s your birthday.” She smiled slightly.

“But I’m still making dinner for my family tonight. His present was only to clean the house. I’ll fight him if I have to, to get to my pots and pans,” she added with a wink. “By the way, I do hope you like your present. I’ve never made treacle tart before, so please let me know how it is.

“I must confess, it wasn’t easy to find out what your favorite dessert was. I asked Ron, and he didn’t know. I asked Ginny, and she didn’t know. Fred and George didn’t know either. Finally, I asked Ginny to ask Hermione. She knew, of course, so it all worked out in the end. Well, I should probably get down there and tell Dobby of our agreement.” She then headed downstairs.

Harry turned around to find both Hermione and Ron come up to him at the exact same moment and begin speaking simultaneously.

“Harry, do you want—?”

“Harry, could I—?”

The two of them stared at each other, waiting to see who would back down first. Harry immediately began to laugh. “All right, who was first?” he asked, just for the fun of it.

Both Hermione and Ron again looked at each other. Amused by the stalemate, Harry decided to intervene by putting on a very annoyed face. “What do you two want?” he whined even as a smile threatened to break through.

Ron quickly turned to gaze longingly at Harry’s new chess set; Hermione’s focus, while just as longing, was directed at Harry’s new book (well, slightly used, but Harry didn’t care... it was new to him). They both then looked pleadingly at Harry.

“Yes, and yes,” he answered them both. Excited, Hermione grabbed Compendium and got settled in on the old fashioned davenport while Ron eagerly opened the chess set, pulling out the pieces. He then levitated one of the medium sized tables and set it next to the davenport. Dragging a squashy armchair over from the corner, he set it on the other side of the table.

After setting up the board and taking the black pieces, Ron settled in the armchair. “Ready, Harry?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry replied in good humor as he moved one of his quartz pawns. He jokingly wondered what it would be like to ever win a game against Ron. After Ron’s first move, Luna returned from Ginny’s room. She went and stood directly behind Ron’s chair, watching the game intently. After two moves, he’d obviously become very aware of her presence directly behind him, and seemed to be slightly unnerved by it.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked her uncertainly after making his move.

“Oh, why thank you, Ronald,” Luna said rather dreamily. She grabbed a wooden chair from next to the writing desk that once contained a boggart and set it beside Ron’s armchair.

“You know, I’ve never actually ever watched anyone play chess,” Luna suddenly explained as she sat down. “It’s quite popular in Ravenclaw, if you can believe that. I’ve never played myself, or even watched, but then again, I’ve never kissed anyone before today either, so it’s been a day full of new experiences.”

Harry and Ron looked up at each other, and then back down at the board. “Do you mind if I watch?” Luna asked. Harry shook his head; Ron did as well.

A few minutes later, Hermione must have found a particularly interesting chapter, for she asked Harry if he minded if she stretched her legs out to get more comfortable.

“No, I don’t mind,” he squeaked, and then promptly cleared his throat to resolve whatever non-existent impediment he hoped everyone else thought caused that.

Ten minutes into the game, Harry knew he was going down in defeat in record time, but it was still fun to watch and listen to the pieces shatter as they attacked and counterattacked. He never had so much fun losing. Suddenly, Hermione’s voice interrupted his fun.

“Was there something you wanted, Ginny?” she asked. Harry quickly looked at Hermione and saw she was looking towards the door. He turned and saw Ginny in the doorway, looking in on the four of them.

“What? Oh. Oh, I was just wondering where all of you were,” Ginny said without much energy. Harry noticed she looked a little tired.

“Hey, Ginny. Want to play some chess?” Harry offered. “I’m about six moves away from being checkmated—”

“Four,” Ron corrected with a grin.

“Four moves,” Harry agreed. “It’d be nice if I actually had a chance for once. What do you say?” Harry asked, smiling.

Ginny seemed to consider it for a moment. “Okay,” she finally agreed, looking a little happier right away. Four moves later, Harry’s king knelt in surrender to Ron’s queen and Ron stood up, looking very satisfied.

“Wicked board, Harry!” Ron said in awe, casting one last, envious gaze at the quartz and obsidian pieces. “If you don’t bring that with you to school, I will kill you,” Ron warned.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Harry laughed back.

“Well... time to check out the leftovers,” Ron decided before heading downstairs.

“You just ate two hours ago,” Hermione called out incredulously, looking up from the book as Ron descended the staircase.

“Now, now, Hermione,” Harry said as he turned to look at her fondly, patting her left shin, “it has been at least an hour. You know, everyone waits an hour after eating before going swimming. Ron waits an hour after eating... before eating again.”

Hermione shook her head in amusement before looking back at Harry. “I just hope no one else was planning on having any leftovers tomorrow,” she replied, grinning. She then ever-so-quickly glanced down at her left leg where Harry had patted it, before returning to the book.

Harry suddenly felt very guilty. I need to pay more attention to what I’m doing, he chastised himself. He’d done that simply on instinct, without even thinking. That’s a good way to get my face hexed off.

Harry quickly turned away, back to Ginny, whom he found wearing an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. Deciding that now was as good a time as any for a bathroom break, he asked Ginny if she’d reset the board and said that he’d be back in a minute.

After answering the call of nature and washing up, Harry left the bathroom and found Ginny standing against the wall halfway down the hall. As he started walking towards the drawing room (and by default her), she approached him. They met halfway.

“Harry?” she asked quietly, almost in a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

Having been down this road once before with another Weasley, Harry knew how to answer. “Yeah,” he said in a friendly voice.

“Well... um... I was just wondering...” Hearing the nervousness in her voice, Harry was pretty sure he knew what she was about to ask.

“Do... do you... like me?” she finally said after a deep breath. Harry stood there, feeling like a deer frozen in headlights. “Do you... think of me as more than just a friend?”

“Ginny...” Harry stuttered. He knew what to say. He just didn’t know how to say it... the way he wanted to. She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled, as if hoping it would help make him more relaxed. He knew that if Hermione had done that, he’d be so relaxed his knees would probably buckle. But when Ginny did it... it didn’t make things worse, but it didn’t make them any easier.

“Ginny... you’re my best mate’s sister. You are very important to me,” Harry said truthfully. Ginny held her breath for a moment. “But...” he started. Ginny’s face immediately fell.

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry whispered after taking a calming breath of his own. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But I know I’d hurt you even more if I lied, or tried to ignore it, and led you on in the process.”

Harry put a hand on her arm. Ginny’s eyes immediately closed and she smiled wistfully. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated as he gave her arm a comforting squeeze. She brought her other hand up to his and held onto it tightly. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and let go of his hand.

Harry could see her smile was genuine, even though there was pain in her eyes. “Is there anyone you’re interested in right now?” she asked.

Harry hadn’t been expecting that. How did he answer that? He couldn’t just blurt out “Yeah, your best friend.” But he was also pretty sure he couldn’t lie about it either. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to think he didn’t fancy her. But, he also wasn’t sure he wanted her to know that he did fancy her... at least not yet. It had only been about two hours since he himself figured it out. This is bloody confusing!

“Ginny... I... I...” Harry stuttered, trying to figure out what to say.

“No, no, you’re right,” Ginny interrupted. “It isn’t my place to ask.” Harry smiled and nodded; it was a nod of gratitude, not of agreement.

“Well...” Ginny started uncertainly, “I think I’ll go downstairs and help Mum finish up putting away whatever Ron hasn’t eaten,” she said, putting on a labored smile. Harry smiled back.

“Ginny?”

“Yeah?”

“I really did like your present. I was just a little surprised when I saw it. It seemed pretty personal.”

Ginny smiled embarrassedly. “That kind of was the idea,” she admitted, turning slightly pink. She then turned to head to the staircase. At the last second, she turned back.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Ginny said, and then stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, allowing it to linger for several seconds longer than was necessary; since he hoped it meant she was letting go, Harry didn’t object.

Harry returned to the drawing room in somewhat of a daze over what just happened. Ginny had, for all intents and purposes, just asked him out, and he’d told her no. Now that he knew she wasn’t his sister, he had to admit... she was quite pretty... and there was just something about her long red hair he found appealing (and Susan Bones too, now that he thought about it...).

But, just because he admitted a girl was pretty, it didn’t mean he had to fancy her. And as he’d told himself earlier, there were lots of pretty girls in the world... and plenty at Hogwarts too. But none of them caused his breathing to hitch like a certain brown-haired girl did. None of them could turn his insides to goo with a simple smile, like a certain bookworm could.

It was with that exact thought Harry walked back into the drawing room and found a certain brown-haired bookworm sitting on the davenport, looking entirely too comfortable reading his birthday present... well as much as he could see of her, at least. She was now sitting with her knees up, the book resting on them; her face was hidden behind it.

Harry sat down in Ron’s armchair and stared at the still-unreset board.

“So, did Ginny find you?” Hermione asked coolly from behind the book.

“Huh?” Harry asked, recovering from his goo-like state. “Oh yeah, she did. Wait. How did you know she was looking for me?”

Hermione lowered Compendium enough to look over it at him. “After you left, she said she was going to get something to eat.” Hermione explained. Harry wasn’t following. “When she left the room, she turned right, towards the bathroom. The staircase downstairs is to the left, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “Oh yeah,” he said, grinning. He couldn’t see the rest of her face, but Harry thought that her eyes seemed to be missing the sparkle he had become accustomed to seeing in the last few weeks. Oh sure, now I notice that.

“What did she want?” Hermione asked in a very business-like tone, still watching from behind the book.

Harry smiled; he could not help it. It had gone so well. He’d turned her down, and she accepted it... at least she seemed to... only time would tell for sure.

Still smiling, Harry finally answered. “She... erm... she pretty much asked me out.” Hermione blinked once.

“And?” she asked briskly, and then looked back down at the book. Harry smiled again and looked down at the chess board. It had gone a lot better than he’d expected. He looked back up to see that Hermione had tilted the book down slightly and was staring at him intently.

Harry smiled once again. “And... I told her... that I was sorry but I didn’t feel that way about her.”

Hermione quickly went back behind the book. “How did she take it?” she asked. Her voice suddenly seemed a lot brighter than it had since he’d returned from the bathroom.

“About as good as could be expected, I guess,” Harry decided. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Did she—?”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted, “do we really have to discuss this any further? I mean it just feels inconsiderate to talk about her like this.”

Harry could see Hermione’s grip on the book tighten for a moment, then he heard her sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right, Harry. I just got a little carried away there for a moment.” She stretched her legs back out, set the book down in her lap, and looked at him. “Forgive me?”

Harry found himself getting lost in her beautiful eyes... the way they were watching him hopefully, awaiting his reply. “Always,” he answered easily. The slight look of apprehension on her face immediately cleared and was replaced with a brilliant smile. Her whole face seemed to glow, though he figured that was probably just because of his new found feelings.

Harry could feel that giddy, bubbly feeling begin to return. If he wasn’t careful, it would overwhelm him. It wasn’t that he really cared if it overwhelmed him; he just worried about doing or saying something completely mental. He tore his longing gaze away from her and turned it to the chess board in front of him. Smiling, he looked back up.

“Want to play a game?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows and looking back at the board. Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then suddenly snapped the book shut. She set it down and moved to sit in front of the table.

“Prepare to lose, Potter,” she challenged him.

“Bring it on, Granger,” he replied. Hermione started the game by moving her white knight first.

A half hour later, Harry finally admitted defeat; Hermione had his king surrounded in one corner. It was the first time she’d ever beat him. Harry would like to have complained that it wasn’t fair, that he’d been distracted, but that most likely would’ve involved explaining what (or was that who?) had distracted him.

Harry certainly wasn’t ready to admit that in front of everyone yet. During the game, Ron, Luna (Merlin! I didn’t even notice she was gone!), and Ginny all returned from the kitchen. Upon his return and seeing a game in progress, Ron immediately sat down in the chair next to Harry and cheered him on. Ginny and Luna, right behind Ron, went and joined Hermione on the davenport to watch the game.

As promised, Professor Dumbledore returned precisely at five o’clock. After gathering up all of Harry’s presents, he placed them all in a horribly ugly, brown hard-plastic Muggle suitcase that he’d conjured. He shrunk the suitcase to literally wallet-sized, and placed an unbreakable charm on it.

“Just in case of any more landing difficulties,” he explained about the unbreakable charm with a twinkle.

Hermione looked up at Metis and Hedwig, who were napping contentedly on top of one of the bookcases in the room. Pig had not made a reappearance since the earlier... incident; then again, Ron probably shut him up in his room.

“Oh,” Hermione complained. “I feel bad for making them fly all the way here, only to have them fly all the way back home a few hours later. But I did want everyone to meet her.”

Dumbledore turned back from Harry. “Not to worry, Miss Granger. Not to worry,” he said with a smile. “It’s in their nature. Flying is what they do. Well, that and other things too, of course,” he added with a chuckle.

“But, as long as they’re not making heavy deliveries, I’m sure they’d thank you for the chance to get out and stretch their wings,” he said with absolute confidence. “A couple of owl treats, a nice mouse or two, and they’ll both be right as rain.”

Hermione nodded in acceptance and then walked over to the bookcase.

“Metis. Hedwig. Time to go,” she called up to them gently. Neither owl seemed interested in waking up. She reached out and knocked on the side of the case, hoping they’d feel it. Evidently they must have, for the pair of them slowly opened their eyes and stared down at Hermione.

“Time to go home,” she repeated. The two owls went through the motions of waking up, blinking a few more times, clicking their beaks, and flexing their wings. Hedwig was the first to be ready, for she soon hopped up to the edge of the bookcase and flew down to the table upon which they’d been playing chess earlier.

Hedwig made her way over to a dish of water that Harry conjured and took a few drinks before taking flight out the window. Metis followed her out a minute later.

“I forgot about that,” Hermione admitted somewhat embarrassed. “That we can do magic now.” Harry just rolled his eyes at her.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Harry,” she warned, as she proceeded to roll her eyes at him. Harry just smiled and walked over to the Headmaster.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I did have a question for you,” Harry asked.

“Just one moment, Harry,” Dumbledore said, turning back to the scrap of wrapping paper he’d summoned from one of the bins.

“Portus,” Dumbledore said, pointing his wand at the scrap of paper, which glowed momentarily. “Yes now, Harry. What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering about the Statute of Secrecy, sir,” Harry explained. “On how it applies to performing magic in front of Muggles who already know about our world.”

The Headmaster looked over his glasses at Harry for a moment. “If you’re thinking about an unannounced visit to Privet—”

“No sir!” Harry interrupted. He then had the decency to look slightly abashed for interrupting the Headmaster. “You couldn’t drag me back there!” Harry assured him. “Well... maybe you could drag me back, next summer, only because I have to go...” Dumbledore smiled.

“Actually I was thinking about Dan and Emma... erm... Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I mean, sir. Would we get in trouble if we did magic in front of them, sir? After all, they already know about our world. How does the Statute apply there?”

“Ah, a very good question, Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “And I have a very good answer. Since Mr. and Mrs. Granger... Dan and Emma... already have full knowledge of our world, you would not be in violation of the Statute of Secrecy by performing magic in front of them. I would advise against doing it outside the house, however, or even in their back yard, just to be safe.

“If the two of you were to, say, conjure up dinner in the kitchen... or practice your Patronuses in the living room, you would be fine. But if you two decided to use a color-changing charm to skip repainting the house... then we might have a problem,” the Headmaster said with a chuckle.

“But what about at my trial?” Harry asked suddenly, confused. “They said I was in trouble for casting my Patronus in front of Dudley.”

“Harry, we could sit here all day discussing the merits of the charges Cornelius had brought against you last year, and not have much to say at all.” Both Harry and Dumbledore shared a smile.

“So, if there’s nothing else... I think it’s time we got you two on your way. Miss Granger, are you ready?” the Headmaster called over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned quickly to see her walk up to him, smiling as usual. Harry felt his stomach swoop as she walked up to him.

He turned back to Dumbledore. “Say goodbye to Dobby for me, sir, if you would, please.”

“Goodbye, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said suddenly behind Harry, causing both Harry and Hermione to jump in surprise. “Dobby is seeing you at Hogwarts. And Harry’s Her... Herminony... Hernimony... Harry’s girl friend too.”

Hermione suddenly swallowed wrong and started coughing. As Harry tried patting her back to help settle her, Dobby began to look fearful.

“Is Miss hurting? Can Dobby help?” Harry looked back at Hermione to see her shake her head slightly.

“What did you say?” Harry fearfully asked Dobby. Honestly, he quite enjoyed hearing the sound of that, until he realized Hermione and Professor Dumbledore were standing right next to him. Harry looked over at the Headmaster. He seemed to be quite fascinated by the switch for the old fashioned gas lamps in the room, and appeared oblivious to everything else in the room.

“Dobby is sorry, sir, but he is having problems with Miss’s name. So since Miss is a girl and is sir’s friend, Dobby calls her Harry’s girl friend.”

Harry didn’t dare look at Hermione. “Oh...” he said, realizing what exactly the little elf said. “It’s just that that sounds like something else that means something entirely different. You should be careful saying things like that. The same would probably apply to ‘boy friend’ also.”

Dobby looked confused. “But Dobby must show respect for Harry Potter and his friends. Sir freed Dobby. And he cannot saying her name,” Dobby looked like he was about to start crying.

“Dobby,” Hermione interrupted. “If you cannot pronounce my name, you may call me Miss. Is that acceptable to you?”

Dobby’s bat-like ears immediately perked up. “Oh yes, that is most agreeable. Dobby will always be nice to Harry’s Miss. Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Dobby,” Harry and Hermione both said, as the overjoyed house-elf disappeared with a crack.

With Dobby gone, Hermione turned to Harry and smiled slightly and sighed. “Well, better than him calling me Harry’s Grangey,” she said. Professor Dumbledore then suddenly reappeared, holding out the scrap of wrapping paper for them to take.

“On the count of three...” he started, as they took the paper out of his hand.

“One.”

As he stood there, surreptitiously watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye, Harry suddenly realized he never even asked Ron about his O.W.L.s. He wanted to know how his other friend did as well, to see what classes they would or wouldn’t have together.

He groaned to himself. He even forgot to talk to Professor McGonagall about his timetable. They wouldn’t be able to do their school shopping tomorrow. Well, at least he wouldn’t. He vaguely wondered how he could’ve forgotten to do all of that. In his peripheral vision, he could see Hermione standing beside him. Oh yeah. That’s how, he thought, smirking to himself.

“Two.”

Harry closed his eyes in preparation. He was amazed at how easily he could feel Hermione’s presence standing right next to him, even though his eyes were closed. Or maybe it was because his eyes were closed. Either way...

“Three,” Harry heard the Headmaster say as he felt the familiar tugging sensation behind his navel.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: Here you all go!! This is more the second half of a thirty-one page chapter than it is a second, separate chapter. I went back and looked at some of my earlier chapters. Heh heh heh... To think, there was actually a time when I posted ten-page chapters. I borrowed a thing or two from the new movie. Couldn’t resist.

A special thanks to one of my business associates, Erika, who is originally from Britain. She generously took a minute out of one of her phone calls with her family to verify that digital clocks made for the UK (versus those imported from the US) do indeed display a 24-hour clock, instead of that “PM-dot” thing.

And of course, a special thanks to my beta, MapleMountain. No matter how many times I say this, it never feels any less important.

Remember, real life... PG-13...

---

Chapter 17. A Happy Birthday? Indubitably.

Harry and Hermione’s landing back in the Grangers’ living room was no more coordinated than the one six hours earlier... but at least nothing fell on either of them this time. Being the first one standing, Harry was all too happy to help Hermione up.

Once she had done the obligatory “brushing off her clothes” thing (even though her house was always clean), Hermione immediately pulled out her wand.

“So, Harry,” Hermione said excitedly, “ready to undo the Headmaster’s shrinking spell?”

“Eager much?” Harry asked, trying not to laugh as he pulled the miniature suitcase out of his pocket. “We’re home not ten seconds and you’re ready to do magic already.”

“Well... it’s just that we can, now! Oh, come on Harry! Aren’t you excited?” she asked, almost breathless.

“Yeah I am,” he agreed. “It’s just that I’d like to take this upstairs before I cancel the spell,” he explained about the suitcase as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Unless of course you wanted to carry a heavy suitcase upstairs for me?” he asked, smiling as he raised his eyebrow.

Hermione smiled back. “Sure, Harry. I can do that.” She then pointed her wand at his closed hand, inside of which was the suitcase. As soon as he saw her mouth begin to form an ‘F’ sound, he immediately dropped the suitcase (it was unbreakable, after all) and jumped back. He hadn’t expected her to do it while he was still holding it.

Hermione grinned mischievously as her wand followed the suitcase down. Once it landed, she finished what she’d started.

“Finite Incantatem!” The suitcase returned to its original size. “And for my next trick...” she said dramatically as she looked back to the suitcase.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” A swish and flick later, the suitcase was floating in midair. “You wanted me to carry this up for you? I suppose I could manage that...” Keeping her wand pointed at the suitcase and following behind it, she directed it upstairs and into Harry’s room. She then deposited it on his bed.

“Piece of cake, Harry. Anything else I can do for you while I’m here?” she asked perfectly innocently.

Harry was barely able to stop himself before he answered that question in a way that surely would have gotten him in trouble. “Nah... I’ll just unpack.” Hermione then left his room to go find Crookshanks.

Harry made quick work of unpacking his presents. After setting the box containing Dobby’s gift on top of the dresser, all that remained was the box containing the chess set. If he’d been paying more attention to the world around him, and less attention to the present Hermione gave him, Harry might’ve noticed that his stack of school books had grown by one while he was away.

Looking back to the empty, ugly suitcase, a smile grew on Harry’s face. “Evanesco.” The suitcase vanished as he repocketed his wand.

“I love magic,” he said aloud to himself, and then started to head for downstairs. Right as he reached the door, he suddenly remembered Fred and George’s present. He still hadn’t opened it. At least now he wasn’t in a room full of people. Harry went and retrieved the small phial from his desk drawer where he’d put it for safe keeping.

He was about to open it when he suddenly reminded himself that it was from Fred and George. Probably safer to have a witness around, Harry wisely decided. He took the glass container and headed back downstairs.

Harry found Hermione in the kitchen, refilling Crookshanks’ water dish... magically, of course.

“Tsk, tsk,” Harry tutted behind her.

Hermione spun around and looked slightly guilty. “Yes, I know. I just couldn’t resist.”

Harry shook his head in amusement. “Best be careful there. You might get over excited with that water spell and spray Crookshanks. I hear cats aren’t too fond of getting wet.”

“You’re telling me that you haven’t cast a single spell since we got home?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Of course I haven’t,” Harry lied, pathetically. Hermione’s eyebrow rose in knowing disbelief. Harry quickly changed the subject. “So, what’s the plan for this evening?”

“No idea,” Hermione answered honestly. “Mum and Dad just said we’d do something special tonight, but you came back before we could decide what.” Harry grinned inwardly. He knew it! They had been discussing his birthday at the pet store.

“What do you have there?” she suddenly asked, looking down.

“This,” Harry said, holding up the phial and eyeing it suspiciously, “is Fred and George’s birthday present.”

“What is it?”

“No idea,” Harry repeated automatically. “It’s a potion of some sort, I suppose. Fred and George whispered to me that was guaranteed to work. When I unwrapped it, there was this little note on it. See?” He showed her the card.

“Do not open in...” Hermione read aloud, and then looked at the bottle suspiciously as well.

“So anyway, I figured now was as good a time as any to find out what it was.” Harry then grinned at Hermione. “Plus I figured it’d be nice if there was someone around to avenge my dead and broken body should this not turn out well... or at least contact St. Mungo’s if need be.”

“Well, here goes nothing,” Harry said bravely and then held the bottle out at arm’s length. Hermione immediately took several steps back; Harry looked at her with a teasing smile that said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“What?” she asked, then grinned also. “How can I avenge you if I’m dead too?”

Harry turned his attention back to the bottle, and opened it carefully. Nothing happened... yet, at least. After a few moments, he was able to smell something. It was faint at first... so faint he couldn’t tell what it was. He brought it a little closer and took a slightly deeper breath.

Harry laughed. “Smells like chicken.”

“I think that’s ‘tastes like chicken,’ Harry,” Hermione replied with a laugh, moving closer.

“No, seriously. It smells like chicken,” Harry said. “I wonder if it’s a potion to turn me into a chicken. They were threatening to turn me into a chicken at the party.”

“Well...” Hermione mused. She certainly wouldn’t put anything past the Weasley twins. Confusion suddenly appeared on her face as she finally was able to smell it also. “I don’t smell chicken, Harry. So... it’s a potion that smells differently to different people...”

He hadn’t exploded yet, or grown feathers, so he brought it a little closer and smelled again. This time, he smelled... it was the bookstore, from the mall. Hermione moved to stand right next to him; he could hear her smelling it also. Harry smelled a third time... something floral... he turned his head slightly and glanced at Hermione’s hair, and then turned back to look at the phial in shock. What WAS this?

After her third deep breath, Hermione suddenly froze. “Harry,” she whispered, “I think I know what this is.” When he turned to look at her, he was surprised to see a strange expression on her face. It was almost fear, with maybe a little anger thrown in. Harry immediately held the potion back out at arm’s length.

“I think this is a love potion, Harry,” she said in a very quiet voice.

“What?!” Harry shouted, his head whipping back to the phial in his hand.

“If it is, then Fred and George have gone way too far this time,” Hermione said angrily. “Love potions aren’t things that should be trifled with. They shouldn’t even exist, in my opinion. But... obviously...” she said, looking down at the bottle in defeat.

“The real question is, what kind of love potion is it?” Hermione said.

“Why does that matter?” Harry asked. “Isn’t a love potion a love potion?”

“It matters,” she explained patiently, “because there are different... flavors... of love potions. Which one it is will dictate how potentially problematic it is.” Seeing Harry’s lost look, Hermione decided to explain. But first...

“Put the stopper back in that for a minute, would you?” she asked. “Thanks. There are different types of love potions. One type is very specific. It makes the drinker fall in love with a specific person. You just add a bit of the ‘target’ person to it. If you were to put one of Professor McGonagall’s hairs into it, and then gave it to Professor Snape, he could be on the other side of the world and he’d immediately fall in love with her as soon as he drank it.”

Harry shuddered slightly at the thought. Hermione smiled slightly. “Just using unlikely examples for illustrative purposes.”

Harry cringed slightly. “Yeah, well, let’s not get any more creative with the examples, okay?”

“Now, the other two types are more... risky... because they are not specific,” Hermione said, continuing her explanation. “One would make the drinker fall in love with the first person he or she saw. It’s sometimes called the ‘Love at First Sight’ potion. Another type is the opposite. It makes someone irresistible to everyone else of the opposite gender. This one has a very, shall we say, colorful and well documented history. It’s also been known as the Casanova Potion.

“The problem is,” Hermione said after a sigh, “is that they all smell the same, since they’re all derived on the same base, but with different formulations. Technically, they don’t have any smell at all. When a person smells the ‘vapors,’ if you will, they make the person’s brain think they are smelling whatever attracts them.

“For example, just suppose I fancied a... let’s say a Muggle football player. When I smell this, I might, say, smell the grass of the playing field, if-that-was-something-that-reminded-me-of-him, that is,” she added very quickly

Harry looked back to the phial in his hand. Why would Fred and George give me this? he wondered. Was it a joke? Or did they really expect him to use it? And which kind was it? For all he knew, if he drank it, he might suddenly fall in love with Percy (or, knowing Fred and George, it would more likely be Ron).

Harry suddenly realized that everything he smelled, he associated with Hermione... the floral and bookstore smells were easy, but the chicken? Harry had to think for a second. It was that chicken dish she made he was so fond of. Through my stomach, indeed, Harry thought to himself amused. As he began to think about it more, the amusement quickly died.

Now that he knew he fancied her, the idea of some potion causing her to artificially fall in love with him was a very disturbing thought. No matter how much he liked the idea of her returning his feelings, if it happened like that, he’d feel like he was taking advantage of her... of abusing her. THAT he would not stand for. And so quite easily, he decided what to do with the potion.

When he turned to look at Hermione, he saw she’d turned away and walked over to the refrigerator, where she was now absently playing with the dish towel.

“What are you going to do with that, Harry?” she asked quietly, not looking at him.

Harry looked back to the phial. Before he could answer her, something from the party popped back into his mind.

“Yeah, we, um, tested it ourselves,” Fred piped in, glancing awkwardly at his twin. George appeared to shudder slightly at some memory, then he promptly took one step away from Fred.

Harry suddenly began to laugh; Hermione came over to him. “What is it, Harry?” she asked uncertainly.

“There are antidotes to love potions, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” she quickly answered, but then her eyes darkened. “Why?”

Harry could not hold back his smile. “When they gave it to me, Fred whispered to me that they’d tested it on themselves, to make sure it worked. They looked at each other, remembering something they obviously didn’t want to. George then stepped away from Fred.”

Hermione looked at Harry curiously as she tried to understand what he was saying. A look of surprise suddenly appeared on her face, then she began to chuckle.

“I’m doubting they’d test something like this without an antidote already on hand. But, based on their reactions, I’m willing to bet the guinea pig got in a snog or two before the tester could apply it.” Harry began to laugh out loud. “I think they might’ve gotten to know each other a little better than twins ought to,” Harry said, struggling to not grin too broadly.

Once his joviality faded, his uneasiness about the potion returned.

“And as for this... I’m dumping it down the sink,” he replied with some satisfaction.

“You are?” she asked; her voice sounded very hopeful... and relieved.

“Yeah. Love is too special to pervert with some artificial concoction brewed in a laboratory or dungeon somewhere.” Harry strode over to the sink, removed the stopper, and then immediately poured the potion down the drain. Feeling an enormous amount of satisfaction, he allowed himself one last whiff before turning on the tap to wash it all away. As he again smelled that comforting scent of the bookstore, he knew without a doubt why he’d done it.

“This’ll be perfect though,” Harry said with a satisfied expression. “I really hadn’t planned on doing anything to them about that screaming cake. But now, after this...” he said, an evil grin appearing, “I’m sure I could hold their testing escapades over them... maybe even get them out of the love potion business...”

* * *

Dan and Emma returned home an hour later. Emma came in carrying a plain brown paper shopping bag. Dan had what looked like a stack of booklets with him. After setting their stuff down, the two came over to Harry.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Emma said, giving him a small hug.

“Happy birthday,” Dan agreed, shaking Harry’s hand. He then quickly looked over at Hermione, before looking back to Harry. “Did you open all of your presents already?”

“Yeah, it was my best birthday ever!” Harry said enthusiastically. As he thought fondly of his new chess set, he quickly looked back to Dan. “Did you tell her about those chess sets?”

Dan smiled. “So then, I trust one more present would be welcome?” he asked as he pulled a wrapped present out of the shopping bag. He held it up and waved it in front of Harry.

Harry was dumbfounded and had a hard time speaking. “You two didn’t have to get me anything.”

Emma took the present out of Dan’s hand. “You’re right, Harry. We didn’t have to. We wanted to. And if the next two words out of your mouth are anything other than ‘thank’ and ‘you,’ and in that order I might add, we’ll go out right now and buy you another one.” Dan came over and wrapped an arm around his wife.

Never cross a female Granger, Harry jokingly reminded himself.

“Thank you,” he said honestly.

“Well, go on. Open it!” Emma practically scolded him with a smile.

Harry took the present and sat down on the loveseat. He was secretly very happy when Hermione came and sat down next to him. Dan and Emma remained standing in the middle of the living room watching. Harry tore back the wrapping to find a matte black cardboard box. From the angle he was holding it, he could only see three of the six sides. Printed on them were a magnifying glass, a pipe, and a number: 221B.

221B?, Harry thought to himself. Why does that seem familiar? He turned the box around and also found a violin and a deerstalker hat. The last side he saw, which turned out to be the front of the box, had written on it what this was.

The Complete Sherlock Holmes.

Harry laughed to himself. Figures it’d be on the last side I looked.

“Hermione told us that you were interested in becoming an Auror,” Dan explained. “We were pretty sure there wasn’t a spell out there called ‘Solve the Mystery,’ so we figured a little old fashioned detective work might come in handy. It has all four novels and fifty-six short stories.” Harry could see Dan reading the cover of the collection box.

Harry looked back up at Dan and Emma. “Thanks. I really like it,” he said honestly and enthusiastically. He then turned to Hermione.

Harry felt a nearly irresistible urge to hug her for telling them. Scratch that. He felt an irresistible urge to hug her, period. But he knew he couldn’t do that, so he just settled for plain old gratitude. “Thanks,” he said.

“Oh, and while we’re on the subject of birthdays,” Dan said to Hermione, releasing Emma and picking up the booklets he brought in with him. “You know David down the street, right? Well, his wife Eve works at the DVLA, so I asked him to have her bring home some stuff for you. So!” Dan said excitedly, “come September 19, are you interested in getting your provisional driving license?”

Hermione looked slightly surprised, but happy. “Oh! I’d completely forgotten about that!” Her face dropped slightly. “But I’ll be at school then. Oh! I’ll be eligible to take my apparating test then. But I don’t know when the test is. But if get my license, maybe I can apparate home to take it. Oh, but I don’t know how far I can apparate,” she said very quickly.

“Or,” Emma interrupted, staring hard at Dan for a moment, and then smiling at Hermione, “you can wait until you come home for Christmas holiday, and take it then.” Her smile faded slightly. “That is if you come home this year.” Though it may have sounded otherwise, somehow Harry just knew it was a lament on Emma’s part, and not an attempted guilt trip.

He noticed that Hermione seemed torn about the whole issue. She certainly seemed excited about the prospect of learning how to drive, but she seemed sad at being reminded that she had missed so much time with her family. Events in the past few years seemed to be conspiring to take her away from her family.

Harry suddenly remembered that tomorrow he would be attending the reading of the will of one of the last two direct ties to his own family. The Dursleys were family by blood, not by heart. While that might have been good enough for a magical spell, it was not good enough for him. He quickly made a decision that he knew certainly was presumptuous, and might even considered brash or rude.

“She’ll be home for Christmas this year,” Harry promised Dan and Emma. All three Grangers appeared surprised. Hermione looked like she was about to say something, however Harry would have none of it. He held up his hand to stop her.

“No, Hermione. No arguments. Do you remember where we’re going tomorrow? You’ve missed far too much time with your family... usually on my account, in one way or another. I can’t let you do that. Not this year. Not after these last two weeks. Anything short of a full blown war, and you’re coming home for Christmas this year. And if I have to, I’ll tie you down to my Firebolt and fly you here myself, Disillusioned or not.”

A slight smile began to break through his determined visage. “So, make it easy on yourself, Hermione. Tell your parents you’re coming home for Christmas this year.”

Hermione looked at Harry through glistening eyes; her lower lip was trembling slightly. She began to smile, looking as though she found something mildly funny. She slowly turned around to her parents.

“I guess... I’m coming home for Christmas this year,” she finally said. Dan and Emma immediately scooped Hermione up into a big hug, all three of them with tear-filled eyes. Harry took a step back, deciding they needed a moment alone. When Dan saw him do this, he immediately reached out with one arm and grabbed Harry quite roughly (accidentally) by the shoulder, pulling him into the hug.

* * *

Later that evening, the topic of where to go for Harry’s birthday dinner finally came up. Smiling in a somewhat embarrassed manner, and taking great effort to not look at Hermione (thanks to the memory of a certain potion), Harry asked if it would be possible to have a repeat of the dinner from his first night there.

After Dan started making a less-than-subtle coughing noise that sounded amazingly like “Potatoes! Potatoes!” Emma and Hermione finally relented; he noted that it really didn’t take much convincing on their parts. This time however, since it was not a surprise, Hermione encouraged Harry to help her, rather than relegating him the side dishes. Emma convinced Dan to do those.

After dinner, they all headed out of the local Kwik-E-Freez. While he had eaten ice cream plenty of times at Hogwarts and in Diagon Alley, Harry was curious to see what was so wonderful about the dessert that had been single-handedly thwarting Dudley’s strict diet regimen. He quickly realized the answer when he saw the picture on the wall in the store. It was so large and so rich that Harry and Hermione ended up sharing one, as did Dan and Emma.

As they headed back home, Hermione suggested another movie night to finish off the festive evening. When asked for requests, Harry said that he didn’t care, as long as it was funny. As soon as he said it, Dan pulled the car into the first car park, turned around, and headed to the local video rental center.

Returning to the car with a cassette in a plastic protective case (Harry couldn’t see the title), all Dan would say was that it was his favorite comedy. Harry could see Hermione smile. When they got home, Harry went upstairs to check if Hedwig and Metis had returned yet (“Since you’re up there, Harry,” she said, smiling innocently and batting her eyelashes; Harry wouldn’t have been able to resist even if she hadn’t done that). Seeing that she was back, when he went to close Hedwig’s cage door, she squawked at him, evidently not eager to be locked in.

Looks like Professor Dumbledore was right, Harry mused to himself. Now that she’s somewhere where she can come and go freely, unlike at the Dursleys’, she probably doesn’t like being shut in. Hedwig tolerated it at the Dursleys’, but only because she (and Harry) had no choice. From that point on, Harry wouldn’t even bother closing her cage any more.

Now that he could legally do magic, he cast a weather-repelling charm that he’d found once (when he did a little Quidditch-related research on Hermione’s Impervius charm) on his open window so he could leave it open with no concerns about it affecting the Grangers’ air conditioner.

This way, Hedwig could come and go at her convenience, and not wait for Harry to open her cage or the window. Upon finding Metis back in Hermione’s room, Harry decided he’d leave Metis’s cage door open as well; he cast the same charm on Hermione’s window.

When he reached the top of the staircase, Harry could see Hermione sitting in the loveseat, waiting for her parents to start the movie. He watched her for a moment, wondering how he could have not noticed her before. Now that he saw her, and realized what she meant to him, he knew things would be different from here on out. What exactly that entailed, he did not know.

The one thing he knew for certain was that he was unwilling to lose her friendship. He did not want things to end with her like they did with Cho. At the same time however, he knew what he felt for her was so different than what he felt for Cho. Even though he only realized his new found feelings today, he was pretty sure they had been five years plus two weeks in the making, as he himself told... himself (That didn’t come out quite right, Harry thought).

Again, what EXACTLY those feelings were, he did not know, yet, but he knew it was more than just some “Oh, she’s cute” fascination. And for that reason alone, he promised himself it would not take two years to ask Hermione out. But first, he had to figure out what she thought about him...

Harry laughed at himself in annoyance. Would Cho and I have EVER gotten together if it wasn’t for that mistletoe? Maybe it wasn’t entirely a waste after all. At least now I know what NOT to do, he thought, smirking.

As he descended the stairs, Dan and Emma walked in from the kitchen and proceeded to sit down on the sofa and got comfortable together for the movie. Before today, he would’ve thought nothing of this, but now... now it meant he would be forced to sit next to Hermione on the loveseat. Oh darn, he thought to himself, quite happy. One of these days I’ll have to figure out some subtle way to thank her for choosing that seat.

About to sit down, Emma quickly spoke up. “Harry, be a dear and go start the movie.” As he turned to look at Emma, Hermione suddenly chimed in behind him.

“Last one sitting down has to start the movie. That’s the rule.” Hermione was wearing a large grin and looked to be enjoying herself way too much. As he walked to the entertainment center, Harry heard Dan mimic Emma in a playfully hurt voice.

“Yes Harry, be a dear and go start the movie.”

“Awww,” Emma cooed, “you’re not jealous are you, Dan?”

“Insanely!”

Even though his back was to her, Harry imagined he could just hear Hermione rolling her eyes at her parents. At the VCR, Harry realized that the cassette wasn’t there. Looking around, he saw it still sitting on the coffee table. He’d walked right by it. Got to pay a little more attention there, Potter. The world doesn’t revolve around Hermione, you know.

Yes it does, the other voice added.

Yeah... it does, the first voice accepted.

Walking back to the coffee table, Harry looked at Dan and grinned. “Nothing to fear, Dan. Nothing to fear,” he said as he picked up the cassette and walked back to the VCR. “I have eyes for only one, and she, absolutely no offense intended, is not your wife.”

Harry was immensely happy that his back was to everyone, for he immediately clenched his eyes shut and winced as though he’d just told Snape what he could go do with his wand.

I cannot believe I just said that! I cannot believe I just said that! Harry chanted to himself as he fumbled with the cassette, trying to put it into the VCR. Fortunately, he could feel that his face had actually lost color rather than gain it after saying that, so it was much less likely that anyone would notice his current state. The only thing he could think to think was, No, she’s your daughter.

He knew he could not stand there forever staring at the VCR, so he quickly turned around and headed back to his seat. The first thing he saw was Dan smirking at him with his eyebrow raised. Emma, on the other hand, who was snuggled in front of Dan in his arms, did not share his sentiment.

He had a hard time interpreting it, but if anything she looked almost disappointed, or maybe afraid. Maybe she HAD taken it the wrong way? Harry wondered. Maybe later I can ask Hermione if... Oh, bugger! When he saw her, Harry knew that Hermione too was not amused. They did take it the wrong way! I’ll just have to talk to her later about it.

Harry quickly returned to his seat and watched as the movie started. Though Dan certainly enjoyed the movie, and he did too, Harry could just feel some unknown uneasiness hovering in the air between himself, Emma, and Hermione. Much to his desperate relief, a scene partway through the movie eliminated it.

After witnessing the full effects of Ludicrous Speed on the evil Lord Dark Helmet, Harry looked over at Hermione, smiling, and said, “It’s a good thing he was wearing that helmet.”

When, literally half a second later, Colonel Sandurz said, “It’s a good thing you were wearing that helmet,” all four of them broke out in riotous laughter. After that, everyone seemed to enjoy the movie much more. Whatever “it” was, it now seemed forgotten.

* * *

Roundabout ten o’clock, everyone decided they would get ready for bed. All four of them had a potentially long day ahead of them... certainly emotionally, if not chronometrically. Tomorrow, they would be going to Gringotts for the reading of Sirius’s will. If Harry had filled out his timetable like he was supposed to, Professor McGonagall would’ve had their class schedules ready with book lists, so they could also do their school shopping.

However, since he didn’t, she wouldn’t, so they couldn’t. Then again, Harry said to himself, that does mean we’d all have to go out together again, at some point. By “all,” he was really only thinking about two people, even though he knew there’d be four in the entourage. Merlin, I’m pathetic, he laughed to himself.

After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, Harry grabbed his new Sherlock Holmes collection and climbed into bed. He propped his pillow up, leaned against the headboard, and started looking through it, trying to find a story that interested him. He still wasn’t tired yet, so he figured that maybe he could kill some time and see if he liked these stories and if they’d be of any value to him in his goals of becoming an Auror.

Right as he decided upon “The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor,” someone suddenly knocked on Harry’s halfway-open door. He looked up to see Hermione, in her pajamas and bathrobe, standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” Harry said simply, with a smile.

“Hey,” Hermione replied simply, with a smile. She then walked in, casually brushing against the door, causing it to open all the way.

“Did you do something to my window?” she asked, standing in the middle of the room. “When I walked in, I noticed Metis’s cage was wide open. I went to close it, but she didn’t seem to like it too much. So I decided to leave it open. But then I saw that my window was wide open. I went to close it and as I put my hand up to it, I could feel something.

“There was this funny feeling there. It was kind of like a buildup of static electricity, kind of as if there was a forcefield there or something. It didn’t make any sense for it to be there in the middle of an open window.”

“Sorry, no forcefields, but I did cast a weather repelling charm on your window. You could actually feel that?” Harry asked a little surprised, but then he continued. “Hedwig didn’t want to be locked in either. I guess Professor Dumbledore was right about them liking to be able to fly around.”

A grin appeared on Hermione’s face. “You guess he was right?”

“Well, he has been wrong before,” Harry admitted.

“So... did you have fun today?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Yeah,” Harry said simply and with a slight chuckle. “One of the best days ever,” he said honestly. For several reasons, he added to himself. “It ranks right up there with my eleventh birthday, when Hagrid came and took me away from the Dursleys, and also that first day on the train.”

“What was so special about that day?” Hermione asked, curious.

Harry looked at her as though he could not believe his ears. “It was the day I met you and Ron.” He maintained his smile, even as he prayed that she didn’t ask why he said her name first even though he met Ron first. Getting a little paranoid, aren’t we?

Hermione smiled fondly as she climbed onto the corner of Harry’s bed and sat down facing him. “Yeah, I seem to recall coming across rather harshly back then. ‘Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it?’”

Harry looked at Hermione in amazement. He’d forgotten her exact words from way back then, but hearing her say it again, and with the exact same inflections as he remembered, suddenly he could hear her words from almost five years ago as clearly as though she had spoken them yesterday.

This time of course, her voice seemed much richer, fuller than back then... as did the front of her robe, as he suddenly remembered the pink bathrobe she wore first year when she came to tell him and Ron off for going to meet Draco Malfoy for a wizard’s duel. Hey, hey, hey! he scolded himself. Eyes above the neck! Mind out of the gutter!

“Nah... you were just being you... pointing out when we were wrong,” he said fondly, smiling. Truth be told, his very first impression of her hadn’t been exactly like that, but by some amazing coincidence, his memory had become a little more selective very recently.

“Besides, you couldn’t have been that bad. I’m still hanging around you after all these years, aren’t I?” he asked, grinning.

“Lucky me,” Hermione quickly replied with a smile.

Something began to gnaw at Harry’s insides. Watching her smile at him, he began to feel guilty about what he’d said earlier about Emma. They’d seemed to have forgotten about it, but he couldn’t. If there had been any misunderstanding, he wanted to clear it up. He worried that he might be overreacting a little, but he couldn’t help it. Hermione’s opinion of him really mattered to him.

After a few moments, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was just kind of joking with your dad about him being jealous of what your mum said. The way it came out when I said it, after seeing her reaction, and yours, I was afraid that the two of you took it the wrong way. I didn’t mean to imply that there was anything wrong with your mum, or that she was unattractive, or anything like that.”

Harry sat there for a second... Well, that’s half of the truth...

“Oh... is that what you meant? I was afraid you meant something else...” Hermione said, allowing her voice to trail off.

Not wanting to know what she thought he might’ve meant, Harry continued. “I just didn’t want either of you to be mad at me.”

“Oh, Harry. It would have taken more than just some silly little misunderstanding for us to get mad at you. But thanks for telling me,” Hermione said, smiling shyly at him.

“You’re welcome. So,” Harry added quickly, happy that everything was okay, but still eager to change the subject, “you never did tell me about that chess set. It looked like one of those sets from the shopping center.”

“Oh yeah,” Hermione remembered, a slight look of pride appearing on her face. “I asked Mum and Dad to see if there was anything that caught your eye while we went out shopping. I wanted to get you something, you know, a little more personal. I’m sure you’re sick of school stuff, and I certainly didn’t want to get you a book.”

At her words, Harry again felt that wonderfully delicious, yet highly annoying ‘tripping over an anvil’ feeling in his stomach. Remembering what Ginny said about her own present, Harry thought about Hermione, If only she meant THAT...

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a book,” he replied aloud, holding up the book he’d set in his lap earlier. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him; Harry grinned sheepishly. “Okay fine. There’s nothing wrong with a book when someone gives it to you as a gift. But don’t expect me to start checking them out at the library now,” he said smugly.

“Anyway, when Dad and I took our shopping back to the car while you and Mum got the groceries, he took me into the game store. He said you seemed interested in the chess sets. Dad said you seemed to like the mythological and military sets. But there was also another display case with six more sets in them, one that he didn’t think you looked at.

“We looked at those also. There was even one with cars on it! Race cars, buses, and the like. But this one,” Hermione said, suddenly looking around the room, trying to see where he set it, “this one caught my eye,” she said after seeing it on the desk.

“I thought it was very handsome,” Hermione explained. “I looked at the display card. It was it was quartz and obsidian. And then I saw it. The frame was made of holly. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even realize it. I mean, I’ve seen your wand often enough that I recognize your wood by now, and I...”

Hermione immediately turned bright red. Harry looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears. He really hadn’t thought anything of what she’d said... until she got embarrassed by it. It was a perfectly innocent thing to say, unless you started thinking about it.

But now that she’d said it, he couldn’t help but think about it. Maybe it was the thoughts that suddenly entered his mind, or maybe it was just seeing her so embarrassed, but Harry quickly became embarrassed as well.

“Oh my God, Harry. I’m so sorry. That sounded absolutely awful,” she said, covering her face with her hand to hide her embarrassment, and grin.

“Anyway... you were saying about my... the... about the frame of the board,” Harry stuttered, trying to get them moving again.

“Anyway,” Hermione agreed, “I asked the clerk about it. He said it was the last one left over from last Christmas. They had several in stock then that were made of holly. Once Christmas was over however, no one seemed to want it. Holly is a rather uncommon... it is rather uncommon. All the better for me though, since they had it reduced down to £199 from £279.”

“£199?” Harry asked, shocked. “But that’s like...”

“It’s about forty Galleons,” Hermione confirmed.

Harry’s jaw dropped. While he understood the math of Muggle money (1, 5, 10, etc.) much better than Wizarding money (1, 17, 29, etc.), he knew what a Galleon was worth. He knew what a Sickle could buy. “Forty Galleons? But that must have been—”

“Exactly what I wanted to get for you, Harry,” Hermione finished his sentence for him, with a note of finality. “Look. You and I both know that we can both afford to buy whatever we want to. I may not have your inheritance, but my parents do okay, and if I want to buy something special once or twice a year, they certainly don’t mind.

“Besides, I thought it was the thought that counted, Harry. Not how much I spent,” she said, looking very determined.

Oh no, Harry thought to himself. He knew she was setting him up. “Of course it’s the thought that counts. It’s just...”

“Just what?” she asked with a weighted voice, beginning to smile. Now he really knew that he had no way out. Except... there was one possibility...

“It’s just that that doesn’t explain how the pieces move,” Harry finally said, feeling quite relieved.

She smiled as though she knew what he’d done, but continued with her explanation. “Remember that chess board from when we went after the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“How could I forget?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Well, when I wrote to Professor McGonagall that first day with Metis, I asked her if she could teach me how to turn a regular chess set into a wizard’s chess set. When she came over earlier this week, she said that she wasn’t allowed to teach me that. Something about restrictions on spells that cause inanimate objects to come alive and attack other things.

“When I told her it was for your birthday, she seemed a little surprised. But then she reiterated that she couldn’t teach me the spell, though she could perform it herself. So I dug the set out from where I’d hidden it, and then she did the enchantment, and voila!” Hermione finished with a very satisfied grin.

“Well, I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Thank you. I love it. And...” he trailed off, getting lost in her eyes again. “And it’s very nice,” he finished.

Right as Harry was about to ask Hermione what she thought about continuing the DA next term, they heard a soft knock on Harry’s door; it was Emma in her bathrobe.

“Hey you two,” she said warmly. “We have an early morning tomorrow... well, early for Harry, at least,” she added with a smile. “Time for bed.”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione and Harry both said simultaneously, and in the same tone of a child having been scolded; Emma held back a chuckle.

Hermione turned back to Harry. “Good night, Harry. I don’t think we need dress robes tomorrow. Just dress nicely.”

“Okay, thanks. Good night, Hermione,” Harry said. I just love saying her name, he thought to himself. It seemed a little silly, but, oh well.

“Good night,” Harry then said to Emma. She wished him good night in return.

After she closed the door, Harry could hear the two of them talking quietly as they walked down the hall, though he couldn’t make out their words through the door. He hoped Hermione was relaying his apology.

Harry got up, went over and turned out the light. When his finger touched the light switch, he laughed slightly as he remembered that he could now do that with a flick of his wand.

He was glad when he finally climbed into bed. It had certainly been a long day. It started with breakfast in bed. He jokingly told Hermione he loved her. At the time, he thought it was just the bacon talking. While the L-word itself was still a mystery to him, now at least he knew it was certainly more than just the bacon.

And then there was the birthday party. It started very painfully, but quickly got better. There was frosting and presents and snogging too.

Oh yeah... and then there was the little detail of realizing that he fancied his best friend.

Yes, it had been a very long day, and he was ready for it to end. Busy days like that took their toll on a person. As exhausted as his body was, his brain was still racing, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

Hermione had kissed him, and he liked it. Then he kissed her back. At the time, he of course desperately tried to find another explanation for it all, but that was about as likely as Snape dancing a jig. Now at least, he knew what that HAD been all about.

He was so tired that he felt like he should fall asleep immediately, but instead, Harry lay on his bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, hoping that if he stared at the same spot long enough, maybe his eyes would get tired. He refused to look at the clock... that would only make time pass more slowly.

Finally, just as he felt his eyelids getting heavy and he thought he was about to fall asleep, he heard something. At least... he thought he did.

Knock, knock.

He did hear it. It was a very light knocking at his door. At least it sounded like it. He reached under his night stand to grab his wand.

“Lumos,” he whispered, causing a very faint wash of light to appear on the door, at which he was pointing his wand.

“Come in,” he whispered as quietly as he could, just in case he was imagining things. Only someone listening at the door would have been able to hear his voice.

To his relief (since it meant he wasn’t imaging things), the door opened very slowly and quietly. A smile appeared on his face as his wand light illuminated the face of his visitor; it was Hermione.

She quickly walked inside his room, closing the door behind her, and locking it.

Harry looked at his alarm clock: 23:55. “Hermione,” Harry whispered, “is something the matter?” he asked, concerned.

“No, Harry, everything is perfect,” she whispered back as she started to move away from the door. The small, dim spotlight of wand light began to travel down her body as she closed the distance between them. Harry suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.

Hermione was wearing some kind of nightgown or negligee; it was insidiously thin and sheer. It left nothing to the imagination... well almost nothing. A floral pattern on the fabric obscured some of the details. In the end, he really saw no more than when he kicked down the door when she was changing. But still, it left no doubt what was, or more accurately wasn’t, underneath.

Though his breathing had stopped, he could feel his heart begin to race.

“What are you doing?” he asked weakly as she stopped in front of his bed.

“Giving you your last present, Harry. There’s still time left,” she said as she looked at the clock also.

“What is it?” he asked lamely; he didn’t see her bring anything into the room with her.

She leaned down and put her head next to his. “Me,” she purred into his ear.

Stunned by her answer, his hand slackened and he accidentally dropped his wand next to him on the bed. Hermione immediately climbed on to the bed, straddling Harry’s chest. It took all of Harry’s strength to keep his eyes on her eyes.

Thank GOD the sheets are between us, Harry thought to himself. Almost as if reading his mind, Hermione picked up his wand and waved it over him. The sheets vanished. There was now nothing separating them except his new boxers from Dobby, and her negligee, which really wasn’t much of anything, as far as garments went. Hermione then tossed his wand over her shoulder. It landed somewhere on the floor. The still-lit wand beam hit the wall, causing a surreal glow to enshroud the room.

Hermione then leaned down and began to kiss Harry with fevered abandon. His higher cognitive functions having abandoned him as soon as he realized there was nothing under her negligee, Harry could do nothing but return in kind. It was a battle of wills, of tongues, a struggle to see who could literally pull the breath out of the other, of how long each could survive without coming up for air. Harry could feel his excitement and desire growing, emotionally and physically.

Harry released Hermione’s mouth and gasped suddenly as she began to tickle his ear with her left hand. He could feel her smile in amusement as she began to kiss him again. Her right hand... somehow he seemed to lose track of it.

A few minutes later, Hermione finally broke contact, sitting back upright. For some reason, Harry felt compelled to look at the clock; Hermione did too: 23:58.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Hermione whispered to him. He then suddenly became VERY aware of where her right hand was. As Hermione sat on his chest, staring intensely down at him, he could feel her other hand slowing working its way in a southerly direction.

When he felt her fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, she stopped, and then smiled at him as she leaned back down again.

“I’m really sorry about what happened when we landed at Grimmauld Place,” she whispered into his ear. Hermione then again locked her mouth onto his as he felt her fingers start to lift the waistband of his boxers.

Harry immediately bolted up in his bed, gasping for air. He was sweaty and his heart was racing. He looked around the room. It was dark; Hermione wasn’t there.

“Lumos,” Harry whispered. A soft light suddenly appeared under his night stand. His wand was still there. It was all a dream. A very intense dream, he realized as he felt a very restricting feeling in his briefs and pajama bottoms.

Just to be safe, he retrieved his wand and pointed it at the dresser. The box containing Dobby’s gift was still there. He looked at the clock: 3:26.

As he began to catch his breath, he realized that he was still very uncomfortable. Well, at least now I know the numbing charm has worn off, Harry thought to himself, almost in pain. It had been several months since he’d last... fantasized. With everything that had happened in the last couple months of school, he really hadn’t been in the mood.

But now that it was frustratingly obvious that that part of his brain was working again (okay, so it wasn’t JUST his brain... he was sixteen, after all), he knew he had to do something. He certainly couldn’t spend the rest of the summer walking around like this.

Harry thought about it for a few seconds. He could do magic. He could cast a silencing charm. He could close his eyes and (considering the intensity of his current state) a minute or two later, he’d be free of all his tension and frustration.

Harry looked around the room, looking at the door and walls, considering his options. As he was about to cast a silencing charm, he suddenly heard both voices in his mind stop himself.

No, we can’t do this, one said.

It’s not right, the other agreed.

Hermione’s not just some faceless, meaningless, physical fantasy girl.

She’s not some quick wank to get you through a lonely night.

Harry groaned quietly as another stab of frustration coursed through him, his body crying out for release from its testosterone-induced torture.

Okay, fine, his reasonable, logical side decided. Pick someone else, anyone else. This is killing us. I guarantee you, it’ll only take a minute. At this rate, we might not even need to think about someone...

No, his emotional, instinctual side stood resolutely. We can’t do that... not here, not in the house... in the bed... that they’ve generously offered.

Another wave racked him. Even his emotional side was not entirely immune to the unrelenting hormones his body was enduring.

Okay fine, maybe later... when we get out of the house... we can sneak away... find a bathroom somewhere... BUT NOT A MOMENT BEFORE! And this isn’t going to be a regular occurrence! We’re not going to turn into the dormmate-who-shall-not-be-named. I wonder if he realizes that there’s little point in using a silencing charm if everyone hears you say the incantation, and therefore KNOWS what you’re doing!

Harry looked at the clock again. It was way too early in the morning to be taking a cold shower. First thing in the morning, he promised himself.

Harry extinguished the light on his wand and then put it back under his night stand. He lay back down in his bed and rolled over onto his side. He hated sleeping on his side; his arm always fell asleep and would become numb.

But there was no way he’d be able to sleep on his stomach... not tonight. And he certainly didn’t want to sleep on his back. Since it was warm out, his bed was dressed with only a set of thin sheets and a lightweight blanket. Should a plane crash in the backyard and they all ran in to retrieve him, there’d be no question as to what he was having to currently put up with.

Harry stared intently at the wall; behind it he knew Hermione was sleeping only a few feet away. Immediately, an image of her sleeping in her bed in an insidiously thin negligee came to his mind. He tried unsuccessfully to clear it from his mind. “Oh, I am in SOOO much trouble now,” he whispered to himself as he tried to go back to sleep.

---

A/N: Holy Hormones, Batman! What just happened? Ordinarily, I wouldn’t tell you exactly what I have up my sleeve, but I figured this time I would. I just wanted to assure you that this isn’t a prelude to the story increasing in rating. It’s just a teenage boy struggling with teenage “issues.” This dream is meaningless... Well, not meaningless. What it is, is merely a vehicle for Harry to help understand what exactly he feels for Hermione, in THAT respect. After all, I’m certainly not ready for Dan and Harry to have “the talk,” so he needs to figure SOME of this out on his own.

It’s obvious to him that she excites him, but how does he feel about that? He realizes that he DOES NOT want to use her like that, to merely satisfy his body’s physical needs. She means more to him than that... than to just be a “quick wank.”

Oh yeah... Who is the unmentionable dormmate? Does it matter? :-) Actually, I haven’t decided... but it isn’t Ron. I figured Ron would know better, what with five older brothers and all.

Oh, and finally... (saving the best for last) Check out an AWESOME photo-manip made by Evernight based on a scene in this chapter!

http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=780

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: First, I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year! I hope everyone made good use of the leap second. I hope you all enjoyed the holidays. If you give and receive presents, I hope you all got something you liked. You know you’ve “officially” grown up when you’re happy to get new shoes as a present.

Several of you astutely observed in your reviews that too much has happened “today” for me to not tell you what is going on in Hermione’s as well as Dan and Emma’s minds. So, for all of you who saw this coming... Congrats! Here you go! We won’t even hear from Harry this chapter. I figured he needed a break after where we left him hanging last chapter. Besides, this is another one of those “half chapters” that I post when I realize that the chapter I started writing turns into something a whole lot longer.

This is pretty much one of the last “setup” chapters, where most of the last pieces to the puzzle are put into place. From Chapter 19 on out, for the most part, we’re pretty much on cruise control. Most everything has already been put into play, so we’re now just navigating the course.

Finally, I just wanted to say thank you once again to everyone who has ever left a review. Thanks of course are given to my trusty beta, MapleMountain. Wow, this is a really long A/N. But hey, it’s worth it.

Remember, real life... PG-13... My intent is not to titillate but to make this as real as real life gets... within the bounds I have set for myself in this story.

---

Chapter 18. Like a Bolt Out of the Blue...

Harry stared intently at the wall; behind it he knew Hermione was sleeping only a few feet away. Immediately, an image of her sleeping in her bed in an insidiously thin negligee came to his mind. He tried unsuccessfully to clear it from his mind. “Oh, I am in SOOO much trouble now,” he whispered to himself as he tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione’s POV, a little over five hours ago...

“Well, I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Thank you. I love it. And...” Harry’s voice trailed off. Hermione watched as his eyes seemed to glaze over for a second. Trying to find something eloquent to say, no doubt, she thought to herself.

“And it’s very nice,” Harry finally said. Oh, Hermione sighed to herself happily, exactly Harry.

Harry looked as though he was about to say something else when Hermione heard a soft knock on his door. She turned around and looked; it was her mum ready for bed.

Hermione groaned inwardly. Just ten more minutes! she begged silently. She’d been so happy. They weren’t doing anything special... they were just sitting there... talking.

Hermione quickly changed her mind. They were doing something special: they were just sitting there... talking. No school, no homework. It was just him and her, talking about their day. She was amazed at how nice that felt... to just sit and talk. She could easily get used to that. Not that they didn’t sit and talk at school... it’s just that... well... she knew what she meant.

“Hey you two,” her mother said in a friendly voice. “We have an early morning tomorrow... well, early for Harry, at least. Time for bed.” Hermione was glad she was still looking at her mum. Somehow she didn’t think Harry would appreciate it if he saw her smiling at that comment about it being early for him.

“Yes, Mum,” she replied; she heard Harry say the exact same words at the same time. She sighed again silently to herself. Oh, how she could get used to hearing him say THAT too.

Hermione turned back to Harry. “Good night, Harry. I don’t think we need dress robes tomorrow. Just dress nicely.”

Harry looked slightly relieved. He probably didn’t know how he was supposed to dress for such an occasion.

“Okay, thanks. Good night, Hermione,” Harry said, and then wished her mother good night as well.

“Good night, Harry,” Emma replied in return.

Hermione reluctantly climbed off Harry’s bed and followed her mother out the door. After closing it, Emma wrapped her arm lovingly around her only child as they slowly walked down the hall.

“So, tell me the truth. How did today go?” Emma asked with a smile.

Hermione thought for a second. It would have been much too complicated to say exactly how today went, so she settled for an overall opinion, now that the day was over.

“Great,” she answered simply. And she meant it too... now that the day was over.

“That’s good,” Emma replied happily. “I was a little worried there for a while that it might’ve ended badly.”

Hermione, feigning annoyance, quickly replied. “Actually, it did end badly, when you came and knocked on the door and interrupted us just now.” She then winked at her mother and grinned. Emma pulled her arm tightly around Hermione in sort of a half-hug.

“I was somewhat curious about what he said as he started the movie. But I take it you’re not worried about it,” Emma asked as they reached their bedrooms at the end of the hall. Hermione looked over her mother’s shoulder to see where her father was; she didn’t see him. She was pretty sure her father had some idea how she felt about Harry. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to hear, she just didn’t want to have to tell the story twice if he was there.

“Actually, I did notice what he’d said. I was worried about it for a while. I was afraid he let slip that he fancied someone. I knew there was no way he could’ve ever meant me, so I—”

Emma’s POV...

Whatever Hermione did, felt, or thought, Emma did not get a chance find out for she immediately led her daughter into her room, closed the door, and sat her down on her bed. She then pulled the chair from her desk, set it beside the bed, and sat down as well.

Emma stared at her daughter for a moment. It had been... well, she didn’t know exactly how long it had been since the last time she had to do this. All she knew was that it was a very long time.

In what was immediately recognizable as her “I am not amused” voice, Emma asked sternly, “What exactly do you mean by that, Hermione Jane?”

Emma watched as her daughter blinked. They both knew that that moniker was reserved exclusively for when Hermione was about to get a lecture... and not a “brush your teeth before bed” lecture either.

“What?” Hermione asked, clearly surprised at the direction this conversation had turned.

“What do you mean you knew there was no way he could’ve meant you?”

“Harry doesn’t fancy me,” Hermione said quickly and simply, as if nothing else needed saying.

“Did he tell you that?” Emma asked sharply. Her tone was directed at her daughter, not their house guest. She knew there was no way Hermione would’ve been able to hide it if Harry had said that to her face.

“Of course not,” Hermione replied, looking almost offended that her mother would’ve even accused Harry of such a thing. Emma could tell that Hermione was uncomfortable under her stare. The stare would remain for as long as she had to wait for an explanation.

“It’s just that he doesn’t. I would know if he did,” Hermione said quietly.

“Does Harry know how you feel about him?” Emma quickly asked.

“No,” Hermione replied. The confusion in her voice betrayed the fact that she was still unsure of where this was going.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve done everything I could to hide it from him.”

“Why?”

“Because he was going out with Cho Chang. And even before they got together, he’d still fancied her for at least a year before that.”

“Why haven’t you told him now? You said they broke up a few months ago.”

“Because he doesn’t need that right now... some girl throwing herself at him,” Hermione replied, exasperated.

“Fine. That’s why you haven’t told him yet. I can accept that,” Emma said placatingly, even though she really wasn’t at all fine with that answer. “But why do you know that there was no way he could’ve ever meant you?”

“That’s not what I said,” Hermione replied defensively.

“‘I was afraid he let slip that he fancied someone. I knew there was no way he could’ve ever meant me,’” Emma quoted. She knew her daughter wasn’t thrilled that she’d repeated her exact words back to her. Emma’s ability to remember exactly almost anything she ever heard came in quite handy at times. It was her phonographic memory, as she liked to call it.

Caught, Hermione sat quiet for a moment then sighed. Seeing that she didn’t seem to be in a mood to put up a fight, Emma decided to press on.

“Is there anyone at school who, in your opinion, knows you better that Harry does?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Not really. Ginny’s a close second... but we talk about different things.”

“Does Ginny know how you feel?” Hermione shook her head emphatically, but then stopped for a second. “At least I don’t think she does. I’ve certainly never said anything to her about it.”

“So, if the two of them don’t know everything about you, isn’t it possible that you don’t know everything about Harry?” Emma challenged.

Hermione sat there for a moment with her mouth open, ready to speak. Emma could see that she wanted to say “no” but wasn’t able get the word out. “It’s possible,” Hermione finally admitted.

Finally! Emma thought to herself. “Good. Now, and I hope you’re paying attention... until you actually ask him how he feels about you, I FORBID you from ever telling yourself that it isn’t possible that he could ever feel that way about you. Do you understand me?”

Hermione sat there for a moment, clearly at a loss for what to say. She finally nodded meekly.

Emma reached out and put her hand on her daughter’s. “You know that we’ve never forbidden you from doing anything, unless we were absolutely convinced it was for your own good. And even then, we always explained exactly why you weren’t allowed to do that.

“But I won’t explain it this time,” Emma told her. “I’m sure you already know why I am forbidding this. But if you don’t, you’re just going to have to figure it out for yourself. And if you can’t figure it out, then maybe you don’t deserve to be with such a wonderful young man as Harry.”

It was breaking Emma’s heart to have to say this to her daughter, but she knew that it had to be done. For all of her intelligence, once Hermione got an idea stuck in her brain, it often took a monumental effort to get it out. The only way that usually ever happened was if she was able to prove it to herself, whatever it was.

If she was motivated enough, Hermione could usually do it by herself. But sometimes, she had to be tricked into proving it to herself by someone else. Fortunately, both Emma and Dan were two of the few people in the world capable of doing that.

“Good! I’m glad we got that settled. I’m sorry if I came on a little harsh. I just couldn’t believe my ears to hear you sound so certain of something like that when I know he hasn’t told you that. So, are we okay now?”

Hermione finally nodded.

“Good,” Emma said in relief. “Now that we’ve been there and back, what did he mean? You said that you were afraid, so that implies that you no longer are afraid... which suggests he told you what he meant... which might help explain how I ruined your day by interrupting you,” Emma said with a knowing smile.

“He did tell me, in fact. Actually, he just kinda blurted it out, saying that he was afraid we misinterpreted what he said,” Hermione explained. “He said that he just didn’t want us to think he meant there was anything wrong with you or that he thought you were unattractive, or anything like that.”

“Oh... okay,” Emma said evenly. She could understand why Harry might think they’d misinterpreted his words. But there was just something about that whole thing that just didn’t fit. Maybe Dan could explain it. It was nice having Dan around for such things. It was like having her own personal copy of the super secret, highly classified guide, Stupid Things Males Say, and Why They Say Them.

Of course, there were other reasons Emma also enjoyed having Dan around (and vice-versa), but she knew Hermione didn’t want to hear about those.

Emma cast a quick glance at Hermione’s clock; it was nearly twenty after ten. She still had a little while longer before she wanted to go to bed. It had been so long since she’d been able to just talk with her daughter, alone. In fact, other than their heart-to-heart on Harry’s first day there, she really couldn’t remember the last time that they had.

Emma stood up from the chair, climbed onto the end of Hermione’s bed, and got comfortable. “So! Tell me about today!” Emma asked with an excited look. A surprised but pleased look appeared on Hermione’s face. She grabbed her pillow, got seated under the covers, and then put her pillow behind her back as she leaned against the headboard.

Emma waited patiently as Hermione thought for a few seconds, smiling happily. “This morning, Crookshanks kept trying to eat Harry’s breakfast. You know how he can get when there’s bacon around.”

“Probably the same as most males get, I would wager,” Emma interjected with a grin.

“You know, I said it was a great day, and it was,” Hermione explained. “But it was quite the roller coaster ride to get there. The party ended up being really great. When we got to... the party, everyone who could make it was there.”

Now that the fact Harry was staying with them was some sort of “magical secret,” Emma finally, truly understood what her daughter meant the year before when she tried to explain that she was incapable of saying where she was going.

Hermione started to turn slightly pink. “When we all gave Harry his presents... Ginny had talked the three of us, me, her, and Luna, into giving him a birthday snog.”

Talked us into? Emma thought to herself. A slight smirk appeared on her face. The color on her daughter’s face intensified.

“Okay, fine! So I eagerly volunteered. But I hid it well. And it was Ginny’s idea in the first place,” Hermione defended. “Anyway, when I kissed him, I could feel myself get carried away. For a few scary minutes, I worried that he had realized that I was practically snogging him as if my life depended on it.

“But he never said anything, so I figured that it was just my own feelings for him getting in the way... you know, my mind playing tricks on me because I wanted him to snog me back. I got to snog Harry Potter, and in front of everyone too.” Emma smiled; Hermione seemed very pleased.

“Later, it took another downward turn but then bounced right back,” Hermione resumed. “Off and on all day, Ginny seemed a little... I don’t know. I’d been watching her discreetly whenever she was alone with him... I couldn’t help it. But then when they were playing chess, Harry left for a minute. She sat there for a few seconds, and then suddenly a very determined look appeared on her face.

“When she stood up, she told me she was going to get something to eat. When she left the room, she turned the opposite way and followed Harry. My heart sank. Somehow I just knew she was going to ask him out. I yelled at myself, wondering why I couldn’t just go and do the same thing.

“They were whispering... I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then I saw Ginny walk past the door and head downstairs. I could hear him returning. I hid behind the book I was reading. I just couldn’t let him see the look on my face. When he came back, he had the strangest smile on his face. I was so afraid he’d said yes. He’d told me earlier that he didn’t fancy her... but maybe he’d changed his mind.”

Emma sat there patiently. Hermione had said it was a great day, so this must’ve turned out better than it was sounding.

“He told her no. I guess he was smiling because she seemed to take it better than he expected.” Hermione smiled broadly, and then put her head down as she brushed her hand across her face and began to chuckle slightly.

“Oh, Harry, bless his heart... in the course of one day, he managed to kill three birds with one stone. Now, I’ve never said this to anyone,” Hermione warned, staring intently at Emma, “but if I had to pick three people I most worried about throwing a wrench into things, it would be Ron, Ginny, and Luna.”

“Ron is obvious, since I’ve known he’s fancied me for quite a while. I was afraid it might complicate things if they were to both fancy me. There was never any question as to who I’d choose, but I worried how it might affect their friendship. Ginny’s obvious too, since she’s fancied Harry since before she even met him,” Hermione said with a hint of annoyance.

“Luna was the dark horse, however. As much as the two of us don’t see eye-to-eye on... most everything, I could just sense that there was something about her that Harry might someday find appealing. Most of the rest of the girls that he knows are too... giggly, I think, for his liking.

Maybe it’s because she sees the real Ron... I don’t know... Maybe I was worried that if she lost interest in Ron, she could just sweep in out of nowhere. If she sees the real Ron, she’d certainly see the real Harry. I think he’d like someone who saw just plain old Harry, not the Boy Who Lived.”

And which way do you see him? Emma said to herself. She debated whether she should actually ask her, even though she already knew the answer.

“But, anyway, in the course of just a couple of hours, Harry seemed to take care of all three of them,” Hermione continued. “He said no to Ginny, and he got Ron and Luna talking to each other. We both thought that Luna might fancy Ron, but he certainly didn’t seem too terribly impressed with her. I have absolutely no idea what Harry said to him, but the next thing I know, he’s asking me and Ginny to come over so that Ron could go over and talk to Luna. I still can’t believe it. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens with them.”

Hermione looked embarrassed again. “You ever been just sitting there and suddenly you swallow wrong for no apparent reason, causing you to start coughing?” Emma nodded. Hermione buried her face in her hands again for a few seconds. “I did that today. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it wasn’t for ‘no reason’ either.

“Do you remember me telling you about Dobby?” Hermione asked.

“Is he the elf who Harry set free?” Emma knew that Hermione believed that the elves she talked about should be treated as equals. And while she could find no reason not to, it still sounded strange to her to call an elf a “who” instead of a “that.” Then again, simply talking about elves was still new to her as well.

“Dobby has a hard time pronouncing my name, so he called me Harry’s girl friend... his female friend. Maybe I breathed wrong or swallowed some air or something. I don’t know, but I about choked to death right there,” Hermione said with a slight laugh.

“How did Harry react to that?” Emma asked, curious.

“Oh, he just started patting and rubbing my back, trying to help settle my coughing,” Hermione answered very happily.

Emma smirked. “No, I mean about what Dobby said. Talk about a one-track mind!” she teased.

“Oh. Yeah. He just told Dobby to be careful about saying things like that, since girl friend sounds like girlfriend. Dobby ended up calling me Harry’s Miss.” Hermione grinned a little. “It was better than Harry’s Grangey. He calls Ron Harry’s Wheezy.”

Emma nodded in acceptance, though there was just something... about something... that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Then we came home,” Hermione continued. “We discovered that Fred and George had given him a love potion,” she said darkly. That certainly caught Emma off guard. She knew there were strange, dangerous things in the magical world. The idea of a love potion however, seemed to be a very dangerous one in her opinion.

“For the briefest of moments, I was scared that he might actually use it. He asked me if there were antidotes for them. I feel so guilty now for even doubting him... but I was just so scared. When I smelled it, I knew the potion was for real. How many guys out there would turn down free love in a bottle?”

Emma quickly interrupted. “Real love? A lot more than you might expect. Meaningless physical love? Well, let’s just say that number goes down a little...”

“But, as it turned out,” Hermione resumed, “he wanted to know for another reason.” She smiled briefly. Emma assumed there was another story behind that, but since Hermione didn’t volunteer it, it probably wasn’t worth telling.

“Do you know what he did? He dumped it down the sink. He said that love was too special to pervert with some potion. Oh, I could’ve just snogged him senseless right then and there.” Hermione chuckled again slightly.

“And then I was afraid he said he fancied someone. And then he said that he was afraid we’d misinterpreted what he meant. And then we just sat there and talked for a while,” Hermione said, a very content look upon her face. “And then you came in and interrupted that!” she finished, reverting back to her playfully annoyed voice.

“So yes, lots of ups and downs, but all in all, a very good day,” Hermione finished. Hearing everything that happened today, Emma still felt that there still was something that just wasn’t adding up about what Harry had said before the movie. But as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t understand what. She knew that she would probably have to have Dan translate for her.

But in the meantime, she didn’t want to bother Hermione with it just yet. Emma glanced at the clock again: half-past.

“Well dear, we should probably be getting to bed soon. We do have an early day tomorrow. We’ll want to leave no later than eight o’clock. The morning rush most likely will have cleared by then, but we don’t want to take any chances being late. What should we wear?” Emma asked.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it in the morning,” Hermione said with a glimmer of a smile. Emma knew her daughter had something in mind, but considering the nearly endless depths of that mind, she knew there was no point in trying to guess what. She’d find out when Hermione showed her.

Emma climbed off the bed and went around to the head of the bed. She leaned down and kissed Hermione’s forehead. “I’m happy Harry had a good birthday. And I’m happy you had a good day too. Good night, dear. I love you.”

“Good night, Mum. I love you too.” As Hermione got settled under her covers, Emma headed towards the door. She turned out the light and left, closing the door behind her.

As she walked back into their room, Emma saw Dan come out of their master bathroom in his nightclothes.

“Problem?” Dan asked good-naturedly.

“Just had to have a little talk with Hermione Jane,” Emma replied.

“Hermione Jane, huh? What did she do?” Dan asked, his curiosity piqued.

Emma quickly turned around to double check that Hermione’s door was still closed; she then went back to the doorway and looked down the hall to make sure Harry’s was as well.

Turning back to Dan, she sighed. Although she had been quite happy to hear about her daughter’s day, her earlier frustration was still present. “Oh, she just seems intent on convincing herself that there’s no possibility that Harry might ever have feelings for her... even though she’s never actually talked to him about it.”

A small smile appeared on Dan’s face. “Is this about his little slip of the tongue earlier?” Emma nodded. “Why doesn’t she just ask him? If he really does fancy someone, wouldn’t it be easier on her in the long run to find out now?”

A slightly lost look appeared on Emma’s face. “But that’s the weird thing about it. Harry did talk to her about what he said. But she said he didn’t say anything about fancying someone.”

Dan laughed briefly. “Emma, trust me. I was his age once. Heck, I was even a first year university student once too,” Dan said with an embarrassed smile. “He has his eye on someone. We don’t say things like that unless our brains are so addled with the thought of someone specific that we don’t think about what we’re saying. I guarantee you: that was his mouth working faster than his brain.”

Must be chapter two of the guide, Emma thought to herself in amusement. “Are you sure?” she asked, still unconvinced.

“I’m sure. He fancies someone. I’d call it a man’s intuition, but since I’ve been told on multiple occasions that men do not have intuition,” he said, teasing her, “let’s just call it a manly gut instinct. Or... how about... testosterone-based ESP.”

After grinning broadly, Dan looked at Emma and smiled in a sappy sort of way. “Don’t you remember me doing that all that week before I finally asked you out... saying completely mental things?”

Emma smiled fondly in remembrance. “All too well,” she said happily. Her lost look then returned.

“But why would he lie to her about it?” she asked. “Harry doesn’t seem the type to lie to her about anything.”

“Well...” Dan mused, “it’s probably unfair to say that he’s lying. He’s probably just not volunteering any extra information. What exactly did he say?”

“She said that he told her he was sorry about what he said. He said he was afraid we thought he meant that I was unattractive or something like that. I did think he let slip that he fancied someone else, and I’m sure I showed my disappointment. It might’ve looked like I was upset or offended, so I can understand why he might think that. But... there’s just something...” Emma trailed off, unable to express exactly what about all of this just felt odd. She took off her bathrobe and started to get ready for bed.

As Dan hung her bathrobe on the closet door and put his clothes in the hamper, he laughed again. “Yeah, he’s definitely hiding something. Everything he said makes sense about him worrying about you being offended. You’ll notice though that it has absolutely nothing to do with why he said ‘I have eyes for only one’ in the first place.”

Emma stood in front of her mirror, looking at Dan through it as she continued to think. Hermione had told her that Harry had effectively removed Ginny and Luna from the playing field. She addressed Dan’s reflection. “But why would Harry try to hide from her who he...?”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock as a very interesting possibility suddenly occurred to her. It must have occurred to Dan at the same time as well for he immediately froze. He then turned slowly to look at her through the mirror, his eyebrows raised in poorly hidden surprise.

For several seconds, neither Dan nor Emma was able to speak as they both considered this new possibility. The wheels in Emma’s mind spun as she considered what this might mean, not only to herself and Dan, but also to Hermione. If it was true, it would explain everything that had been bothering her about all this. She quickly turned around to face Dan.

Before Emma was able to say anything, Dan, who was able to read her much better that she would prefer to admit, accurately derailed her train of thought before it could start to run away.

“No,” Dan warned, though he was smiling.

“But she...” Emma started.

“No,” Dan finished.

“And he...” Emma continued.

“No,” Dan concluded.

“And they...” Emma persisted.

“No,” Dan insisted.

“Dan,” Emma whined. She knew he had a hard time refusing her when she whined. He always said he found it too cute. As such, she had to use it sparingly.

“Emma Watson Granger: No!” Dan stood firm. He went over and closed the door, turning off the ceiling light. The lamps on their bedside tables were still on.

Emma stuck her lower lip out in a pout, something she knew he also found adorable. But alas, it was to no avail this time.

“Emma, A: We don’t know anything for sure. And B: NO! Honey, look. You remember how we got together, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said with a smile, distracted by happy memories. “But the way we met is nothing like how they met.”

“Exactly!” Dan exclaimed. “Whereas I was sitting in my 8:00AM Calculus class, trying not to fall asleep, and suddenly the most ravishing creature I’d ever seen walked in and sat down next to me...”

“It was the only seat left in the room,” she reminded him with a smile.

“They, on the other hand, have known each other since they were eleven,” Dan continued his comparison. “They’ve practically grown up together. They’re best friends. You and I became best friends after we started dating. We’re talking about two people who are already best friends and then start dating. You’re right: their situation is nothing like ours was.

“I knew nothing about you. That’s why I asked you out so quickly. I wanted to get to know you. They already know everything about each other. Well... obviously not everything,” Dan added with a smirk. “He obviously doesn’t how she feels... and if we’re right about him... she doesn’t know how he feels.

“They’re probably worried about losing their friendship,” Dan suggested. “If I read between the lines correctly in one of her letters, Harry’s last relationship didn’t end very well.”

“But they’ve been friends for so long. I really can’t imagine them losing that simply by asking,” Emma said.

“But they don’t know that,” Dan replied. “As far as I know, this completely hypothetical situation we’re discussing would be her first serious relationship. And it would be his second... if you could even call it that, since his first one sounded rather... flimsy... from what I read. Then again, that could’ve just been Hermione’s opinion of it...

“Regardless though, they don’t have much, if any, experience,” Dan pointed out. “All they can see are their fears of what might go wrong.”

“My point exactly!” Emma interjected. “If we just told them how the other person felt...”

“And what if we’re wrong about Harry?” Dan interrupted.

“You know we’re not!” Emma countered.

Dan would neither confirm nor deny that charge. “But what if we are? Are you willing to take that risk? If we told Harry how she felt, and it turned out he didn’t fancy her, she’d never forgive us for betraying her secret.

“And what might Harry think? That we’re trying to set him up with her? That might really drive a wedge between them.”

Emma appeared to lose most of her fight, but was still not ready to throw the towel in just yet.

“Emma, dear,” Dan said lovingly, “Harry still has a month left here... at least I think he does. The headmaster never did specify a timetable for his departure. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, he still has another month here. Don’t you think we at least owe it to them to give them the chance to figure it out for themselves?”

Emma was almost convinced. But what if they just...

“I’ll make you a deal,” Dan said, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s give them the month. I’ll keep an eye on Harry... discreetly of course. It’s a lot easier to know what to look for when you’ve done it yourself,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“So, come September 1, if we’re sure that Harry does have feelings for her, and they haven’t made any visible progress, when we send them through the barrier at King’s Cross, we’ll give them a figurative shove as well. But we say nothing and do nothing until then. At least nothing obvious,” he added quickly. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Emma finally relented after a few moments. “What do you mean ‘nothing obvious?’”

“Well...” Dan said slyly, “you know... things that there’s no possible reason we could be faulted for doing. I suddenly realize that I much prefer sitting on the couch with you,” Dan said, wagging his eyebrows. “You know... rather than on the loveseat.” Dan chuckled a little. “Though, I think Hermione figured that one out today.

“And you know... we haven’t gone to the cinema for a while,” Dan continued. “The four of us should go out and see a movie or two this month. And we really should get two large boxes of popcorn, instead of four small ones. Now, if we sent them through the Tunnel of Love together, that might qualify as ‘obvious.’”

Emma looked at Dan suspiciously. “When did you get so devious?” she asked with a look of wonder.

“Trust me. When we put our minds to it, you’d be amazed at how complicated men can make things... when we put our minds to it. It’s the Rube Goldberg gene. Most men have it.”

Emma smiled at her husband affectionately. As soon as she did, a wicked gleam appeared in Dan’s eye.

“What kind of middle name is Watson anyway? Where on earth did you get a name like that?” he teased.

Emma smirked. Dan was up to one of his little games again. She certainly didn’t mind them, for they often led to other games that she also enjoyed.

“Now Dan,” she teased back. “You know full well that Watson was my grandmother’s maiden name. Just like how Jane is Hermione’s grandmother’s maiden name. And hopefully, years from now... many, many years from now, Hermione’s daughter’s middle name will be that of her grandmother,” she said with a wistful smile.

“I can just imagine it now: Perdita Puckle...” While Emma prevented the premature pronouncement of her preferred pairing for her precious progeny, the pending plosive peal was perfectly perceptible. Dan pondered his permanent partner pensively.

“Emma...” he started.

“I didn’t say it!” she defended.

“No, but you were thinking it,” he correctly ascertained.

“Well... you must’ve been thinking it too if you saw that so quickly...” she countered. Dan did not respond immediately. As she realized that Dan too must have at least considered the possibility, she felt a sudden shift in her mood. Feelings that had been settled a little over seventeen years ago began to resurface. She knew why they were now coming back, but it did not make it any easier.

“Well... maybe she’ll pick a name other than Perdita,” Dan said with a slight chuckle as he fondly remembered something that happened many years ago.

One day, when Hermione was much younger (old enough to comprehend the books she read, but not old enough to have yet been explained the facts of life), she was told the source of her name. Once Emma quickly retrieved the appropriate book from one of their many bookshelves, Hermione immediately sat down to read about her namesake. After she’d read the story several times, Hermione went up and proudly announced to her parents, “When I’m Mummy’s age, I’m going to go out and buy a daughter and name her Perdita too.”

Hearing Dan say the name only helped intensify what Emma was feeling. “Do you really think she’d pick anything other than that?” she asked solemnly. Dan still hadn’t seen the shift in her demeanor.

Dan turned and looked at the wall in the direction of Harry’s room. He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Honestly? I don’t know anymore. She’s no longer the same person to whom that first Hogwarts letter was delivered. And I don’t regret it either.”

Emma was losing control. She knew where she was in her monthly cycle. Her hormones were all out of whack and for these few days, she was susceptible to sudden changes in her mood. And oh, how her mood did swing.

Still standing in front of her mirror, now clad in her nightgown, she put her hands down on her dresser and bowed her head. When she let out an emotionally-pained sigh, Dan immediately came over and held her. After twenty-six years, twenty-two of them in marriage, he too knew where she was in her cycle, even without any physical or emotional signs. It was, after all, rather predictable... except once, a little over seventeen years ago...

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you something?” he asked tenderly.

“I want another child, Dan,” Emma said weakly.

It was obvious Dan was caught off guard by the sudden yearning. It was also obvious that he was sympathetic to her desire. Both of them already knew the answer, however. While they hadn’t actually tried to have a second child in the last sixteen years, they also hadn’t done anything to prevent it from happening. If it happened, they would welcome it.

“You know that’s not possible,” he said as gently as he could, for it was not easy for him to say either.

“I want a son-in-law,” she suddenly said, clarifying her previous desire.

“Em...” Dan whispered.

Emma knew what he was about to say. Deep down, she knew it too: she was getting ahead of herself... years ahead of herself. But she couldn’t help it. This had been twenty-two years in the making. It had only come into focus a few minutes ago.

Emma turned and looked deep into her husband’s eyes. “Do you believe in fate, Dan? In destiny?” she asked. She’d never asked this exact question before, but since they had discussed related topics many times over the years, she was already certain of his answer.

Dan blinked a few times in surprise at her question. He stood there for a few second, considering her.

“Generally, I believe in what I can see,” he replied, exactly as she expected. What he said next though caught even her by surprise. “However, I refuse to believe that you and Hermione came into my life purely by chance. So... yeah, I guess I do... for the important things.”

Emma smiled slightly and pulled his head down, giving him a quick kiss. After releasing him, she continued to stare deep into his eyes.

“Do you want to know what I see, Dan? I see twenty-six years of seemingly random events suddenly lining up, pointing to something. I see everything that has seemed to go wrong in our lives, be it big or small, suddenly be the set up for something more.”

“You pined for Michelle for two years in high school and first term at university, and yet you let her slip through your fingers. Someone else asked her out a month before the end of first term, and you didn’t even try. Why?” Emma asked rhetorically; she knew Dan did not know why either. “Never in my life had I ever overslept for a class, and yet first day of second term, I did. I walked into that Calc class twenty minutes late and found only one seat left.

“Both of us thought we hated Shakespeare,” Emma continued. “How could a Capulet compare to Captain Kirk? And yet when we grudgingly took that literature class third year to fulfill our graduation requirement, we found out how wrong we were. We even named our daughter after one of the characters.”

Emma put her head down on Dan’s shoulder and stared off to the side of the room. Her eyes landed on the family portrait they had taken the summer previous, before they sent their daughter off to wherever she had to go. “And when we got married... we wanted a family. We tried for five years.”

Emma lifted her head back up and looked into Dan’s eyes again. “Five years, Dan. The doctors told us again and again they couldn’t find any reason why we couldn’t. It was simply as if we weren’t meant to have a child... then,” she added in a whisper.

“Even when we considered adopting, it always fell through for some reason... the biological parents’ situation changed... our paperwork got lost.” Eighteen years earlier, she said those words with anguish and vehemence. Now it was with some amount of reverie. She put her head back down on Dan’s shoulder.

“And then, on our anniversary, seventeen years ago... It was the same as our first four... we spent the day together... we went to a movie...” Emma tightened her arms around Dan’s neck, “we made love.

“We both knew something was different that night. It just felt... magical. Not that you haven’t always had the magic touch,” Emma added with a slight grin to herself, “but you know what I mean...” she trailed off as she continued to stare at the portrait that was the proof of what happened that night.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Dan agreed. “I felt it too... It seems a very fitting word... magical.” It was a word that most people used when they couldn’t think of a better way to describe something. But after that fateful day six years ago when Professor McGonagall arrived at their doorstep with a most unusual letter, they knew then that it truly was the only word that was appropriate.

“And even once she was here, for the first ten years, as happy as we were, we knew there was something missing. She was so bright... and she always got top marks... but it was hard to watch her struggle in school.” Emma felt a few tears fall from her eyes.

“And then our world suddenly got a whole lot bigger,” she concluded.

“And then she met Harry,” Dan added. Emma looked back at Dan. More tears fell. The first few were in sadness. These were in happiness.

“Harry,” Emma repeated. “Harry, who had his family taken away from him, who was forced to live with people who didn’t love him. By legacy, he should be a spoiled, rotten brat. By upbringing, he should be a hateful, bigoted, broken-down shell with serious mental problems.

“But instead, he’s one of the most caring, selfless, decent human beings I’ve ever met. We really only met him a few weeks ago, but I’ve felt as though we’ve known him for years. Ever since that first letter she sent home.”

Emma tightened her grip on Dan again. “She’s falling in love with him, Dan. I watch her, and I can see it,” she said as tears continued to fall freely. “Hermione, the brightest witch in a generation, as her Head of House wrote to us once. Harry, the only person to ever survive the unsurvivable. The young man who has some lost prophecy written about him. A prophecy, a real prophecy,” she said, almost in awe.

“The young man who, by Hermione’s own words, has the potential to be the most powerful wizard in all of history. The young man who has completely bewitched her, merely for who he is, not what his name is.”

“I can see it in him too,” Dan added. “He may not be consciously aware of his feelings, but it’s obvious he cares for her a great deal. She’s always been there for him. And most importantly, he knows that. He knows what she means to him... even if he doesn’t know what she means to him.”

“I see them, Dan,” Emma continued, the tears slowing. “I watch them. Before a few minutes ago, I was content to just stand on the sides. But now... now that there’s the possibility of this all falling into place, I want to help them. I want to be there for them. I want them to have a chance of having what we have.”

“Emma,” Dan said quietly as he tightened his own hug. “If this is all true,” he said, pausing for a moment as he considered his next words. Somehow Emma knew he was saying “if” merely for the record. Unconsciously, she held her breath in anticipation of what he might say.

“If this is all true,” he resumed, “then I don’t think they’ll have any chance of having what we have. They’re going to have so much more.” Emma began to breathe again as Dan looked deep into her eyes. She could see a tear begin to form in his eye.

“Emma Watson Puckle. I love you with every fiber in my being. You are my best friend, my better half, the mother of my child,” he said with a shaky voice and a smile that always melted her heart. “But if it were possible for two people to love each other more than I love you, it would be our daughter and that bespectacled young man down the hall... when their time comes...” he finished and then gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Emma watched as Dan smiled at her again. “Do you believe in fate, Emma? In destiny?” he asked her.

“I believe in my daughter. And Harry. And them,” she answered confidently.

“Then don’t you think we owe them, and fate, a chance to discover each other on their own?” Dan asked.

Emma looked up at Dan and nodded. “But we still get to go to the cinema, right?”

Dan started laughing as he wiped away the tear that refused to fall. “Yes, we can still go to the cinema.” Emma looked pleadingly at him again. “And we’ll get two large boxes of popcorn.”

Now that she had finally gotten that off of her chest, Emma suddenly felt a whole lot lighter. Those same out-of-whack hormones that had taken all of her secret feelings and manifested them in that little breakdown suddenly began to turn her current happy feeling into something more.

She turned to Dan again with a predatory look in her eye, not unlike that of a lioness about to pounce on her prey. “Am I really the most ravishing creature you’ve ever seen?” she teased, starting another game. Her games led to the same place Dan’s did... which, incidentally was where she was now slowly backing him towards. There was something else she needed to get off her chest: her nightgown.

Over the past twenty-six years, Dan had regularly shown his unflagging desire for his wife. She simply liked to put him on the spot every once in a while and make him put into words that which he showed so well without.

Emma could see Dan recognize the look in her eyes and saw when he felt his calves bump against their bed. He studied her for a moment. “You, my dear, are like a fine wine. You only get better with age.”

Emma sighed to herself contentedly. It was by no means original, but she knew, and standing so close to him, could feel that he meant it sincerely. She saw him look over her shoulder, just to be doubly sure their door was closed.

“And I also have to remember to let you breathe,” he added huskily.

“Care to make a wager on who has to come up for air first?” she asked.

“Same stakes as always?” Dan asked.

Emma nodded. “Next shower, winner gets to wash the other person’s back. Loser has to wash the other person’s back.”

“Excellent!” Dan said as he pushed Emma back a step or two. Emma was very grateful he did this. They’d learned many years ago the hard way that if their feet were too close together when what was about to start started, they would actually trip over each other.

She was also glad he’d already turned off the ceiling light. She also knew neither of them would have much energy left later. Fortunately, their bedside table lamps were touch-sensitive.

As Dan smiled one last time at her, she took a deep breath, tackled him, and started snogging him senseless.

* * *

Hermione’s POV, back where (and when) we last left her...

Hermione thought about everything that had happened today as her mother climbed off her bed and then came and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m happy Harry had a good birthday. And I’m happy you had a good day too. Good night, dear. I love you.”

“Good night, Mum. I love you too.” Hermione was glad when she finally got settled into bed. It certainly had been a long day. After her mother switched off the light closed the door behind her, she stared up at the ceiling and resumed her cataloging of the day.

It started with her making breakfast for Harry. She wanted to surprise him with a special treat today. While she cooked, she listened to her favorite song. No matter how many times she listened to it, she never tired of it. She must have listened to it forty to fifty times over the past couple years. She had to listen to it while she could, for she was not able to take her CD player to school. Well, she could, it just wouldn’t work.

After she brought him his breakfast (and divested him of her cat) he jokingly told her that he loved her. She knew it was just the bacon talking, but she didn’t care. Just hearing those words come out of his mouth... his perfect, snoggable mouth... caused her heart to flutter. She was certain she blushed at that as well.

And then, like an idiot, she had to go and bring up Cho Chang again. She couldn’t help it. She just did not like that Ravenclaw. She knew Harry didn’t fancy her anymore, but she’d brought her up several times over the past couple weeks, almost as if she wanted to hear him say something bad about her.

He never did, directly, of course, but this last time, he looked almost as if he wanted to hear her say something bad about Cho. She wouldn’t, directly, of course, but it did make her feel a little better for some reason.

Right before they left, he went and told her how this was more of a home to him than the Dursleys’ ever was. While it literally brought a tear to her eye, she had to remember to not let him disparage his relatives too much.

As part of his failed attempt to convince Hermione to allow to remain Harry at the Dursleys’, the Headmaster had explained that Harry need only consider their house as a home for him. Dumbledore knew that Harry considered the wizarding world, specifically the castle, to be his real home. But as long as Privet Drive was considered by him to be a home, at least for brief periods, and as long as Petunia allowed him to stay, it was enough to keep Lily’s protections in place.

Yes, it had been a very long day, and she was ready for it to end. Busy days like that took their toll on a person. All of her thoughts about Harry, particularly her recollection of what she considered to be proof that he really wasn’t that bad at kissing (as he’d once wondered), had begun to reignite in her a desire that she’d done her best to ignore ever since Harry arrived there.

She’d long gotten over her guilt about fantasizing about Harry. They were, after all, only fantasies. What’s more, she now knew that they were no longer meaningless fantasies. As soon as he arrived, however, she stopped... indulging them. With him literally sleeping only feet away from her, she wasn’t quite that comfortable.

That said however, she certainly didn’t object when Harry visited her in her dreams... which happened more often than she would care to admit, even to herself. As the longing slowly grew, she really hoped Harry would visit her again tonight...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: First things first. I’m so sorry this has taken so long to get posted. I could give you any number of excuses, all of which valid, but I won’t. Needless to say, real life happens, and you just have to deal with it sometimes.

So, I decided the least I could do would be to give you all another double update: this chapter today, and another one in a couple days.

Just a very quick reminder where we are. We are now FINALLY into August 1... only hours after Harry has realized his feelings. I know it’s been an eternity for us (even worse for me), but again, it’s only been about fifteen hours for Harry. But they’ve been the most important few hours of his life up to this point. Once we get to August 2, the rest of the month will pass very quickly, in only a couple chapters (compared to the six that his birthday took...)

Thank you again, MapleMountain, my most vocal reminder (“So... when do I get the next chapter?”) for working your magic as always. I should be glad you’re several states away from me. Any closer, and you’d probably be pounding on my door, “encouraging” me to hurry up.

Remember, real life... PG-13... And on that note, please know that the rest of the story will not be as focused on “growing up” as these last few have. It’s just been a very busy day for Harry. He’s had a lot of things to sort out. Things might pop up here and there, but it won’t be as focused as we have lately.

And finally (yes finally), Dan is quoting something from a TV show that he’s seen. I haven’t mentioned the show by name yet, but I think I’ve established that he’d watch it. Ten points to anyone who can spot it. If you don’t recognize the name of the Executor, then you probably won’t get it. But hey, it’s just for fun, so no worries... :-)

---

Chapter 19. Everything’s Going to Change Now, Isn’t It?

She’d long gotten over her guilt about fantasizing about Harry. They were, after all, only fantasies. What’s more, she now knew that they were no longer meaningless fantasies. As soon as he arrived, however, she stopped... indulging them. With him literally sleeping only feet away from her, she wasn’t quite that comfortable.

That said however, she certainly didn’t object when Harry visited her in her dreams... which happened more often than she would care to admit, even to herself. As the longing slowly grew, she really hoped Harry would visit her again tonight...

* * *

Harry’s POV, back where (and when) we last left him, 3:26...

Harry stared intently at the wall; behind it he knew Hermione was sleeping only a few feet away. Immediately, an image of her sleeping in her bed in an insidiously thin negligee came to his mind. He tried unsuccessfully to clear it from his mind. “Oh, I am in SOOO much trouble now,” he whispered to himself as he tried to go back to sleep.

He was so tired that he felt like he should fall asleep immediately, but instead, Harry lay on his bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, hoping that if he stared at the same spot long enough, maybe his eyes would get tired. He refused to look at the clock... that would only make time pass more slowly.

Finally, just as he felt his eyelids getting heavy and he thought he was about to fall asleep, he heard something. At least... he thought he did.

Knock, knock.

As Harry’s mind treated him to a repeat of the dream again, he had no memory of going through it the first time. As such, it felt just as real this time as it did the first. The main difference however was that this time, since his body was still... affected from the first dream, it had a head start on this second one. Thus, when this dream finished to completion, so too did Harry.

Harry’s eyes shot open, very awake, the instant he realized what was happening. They then quickly clenched shut tight as waves of the single most intense feeling he’d ever experienced (excluding the Cruciatus Curse of course) radiated out through his body. It had NEVER felt like that before.

As Harry slowly descended down from his apex, his breathing began to return to normal and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Looking up, the ceiling sparkled with thousands of tiny pinpricks of lights. Evidently his eyes were none too happy with the mistreatment by their own eyelids.

Harry vaguely became aware that he was tightly grasping onto something in his hands. Intentionally avoiding looking in a certain direction, he raised his head slightly and focused his attention on his right hand. He clearly remembered holding a wand in his dream only a few moments ago. He looked and found instead that the only things in his hands were the bed sheets and mattress cover beneath. He’d managed to pull up everything but the mattress itself.

Willing himself to release the grip on his defenseless sheets, Harry set his head back down, closed his eyes again, and took in a few steadying breaths. As he did, he found himself considering what had just happened. That had never happened before, at least not like that. He’d always required his own... assistance before now. But there was no mistaking what had just happened. This was certainly going to change things, for him at least...

Before he was able to get too far into his introspection, Harry heard something. At least... he thought he did.

Knock, knock, knock.

Now truly awake, Harry had full recollection of his first two dreams. A small part of him laughed at the injustice of it all. In the past twenty-four hours, Hermione had gone from just his best friend to the girl he now knew he fancied... the girl whom he now knew was the most beautiful in the world... the girl who’d been able to make him do something, while he was unconscious no less, that he’d only ever been able to do previously with a silencing charm and some deliberation. And to top it all off, now there was someone knocking on his door.

Unlike in his previous dreams however, this time it was a regular knock, not a quiet one. Harry quickly looked around to consider his options. While he finally felt free of his earlier mental and physical frustration, he was still in a compromising state. He didn’t know anything of the theories about how a full bladder placed pressure on the prostate causing a stimulatory effect, but he had recognized a pattern over the years that a full bladder in the morning would often cause the same condition.

With no time for anything else, Harry quickly sat up in his bed and pulled as much of the sheets as he could into his lap to hide himself, just as he had done the previous morning when Hermione brought him breakfast.

“Yes?” Harry answered the knock. The door opened quietly. He wasn’t sure if he was glad at who he saw enter his room. It was Dan, looking fresh out of the shower.

“Harry,” Dan greeted him cautiously. “I was walking by and I thought I heard you moan. Are you all right?” he asked as he approached. “You look a little peaky.”

Peaked is more like it, Harry thought to himself. He brushed his hand over his face. It was still a little sticky from sweat.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a dream,” he said rather vaguely.

“Nightmares again?” Dan asked in concern.

It took everything Harry had to not laugh. “Not exactly,” he said before he realized it. Embarrassed and still feeling exposed (though he was perfectly covered), he unconsciously grabbed another handful of blanket and drew it towards his lap.

Though Dan did not look away from Harry’s face, he was still able to see the movement and the vicinity in which it was located.

“Ah,” he said simply in recognition. He looked around the room for a moment in awkwardness. “If, uh, you wanted to make a quick escape to the bathroom for a shower, now would be a good time. Hermione is chasing Crookshanks around the backyard right now and Emma is still in her bath. The hallway should be safe from prying eyes.”

Harry suddenly felt eternally grateful to Hermione’s father. He seemed to understand the situation and hadn’t killed him yet. That certainly was a plus.

“So,” Dan said with a laugh, “who is she?”

If an answer hadn’t come to him so quickly, Harry might’ve panicked at Dan’s question.

“The girl of my dreams,” he answered easily and with a hint of defeat (that Dan knew it was about a girl).

“Smooth one,” Dan replied quickly with a smirk. Harry began to wonder if Dan was actually going to ask him who she really was.

“Don’t worry. I’d never ask you who she was. We’re all entitled to our secrets. Besides, it’s not like I even know her, right?” Dan asked innocently as he looked at Harry intently.

Harry quickly looked away for a moment. Since he was turned away, he did not see the momentary look of triumph on Dan’s face. Some idiotic part of his mind wanted to scream out Hermione’s name at Dan’s question. He wanted him to know how special his daughter really was, completely ignoring what happened in his dreams. He knew that if he continued to look at Dan, he’d just blurt it out.

Dan turned to walk back to the doorway. As he stepped out into the hall, he stopped for a moment and looked both ways down the hall and down the stairs. He then turned around and walked a few steps back into Harry’s room.

“Harry, you do know that Hermione’s told us a lot about you, right?” he asked.

Harry remembered Emma saying something to that effect when they picked him up from Privet Drive. He nodded.

Dan looked a little awkward at what he was about to say. “At several points, I thought to myself how hard it has to’ve been for you to not have your father or your godfather there for you... you know... to answer any questions you might have... about growing up.” Dan looked embarrassed.

“Look, I’m not trying to take anyone’s place, nor am I asking you to say anything you don’t want to,” Dan said with a certain amount of uneasiness. “And I’m quite sure it’s not my place to have ‘the talk’ with you. But... I am willing to answer any simple questions you might have.”

Dan rubbed the back of his neck as he continued to explain. “I just remember what it was like when I was your age. My father believed that those weren’t the kinds of things you talked about. I had to ask some of my friends about... certain things. Not only was that embarrassing, but... talk about the blind leading the blind,” he said with an embarrassed laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he resumed, much to Harry’s relief. “I just wanted you to know that you had another option, besides your classmates. I’d hate to think that they were your only source of information, especially considering they’re probably just as scared and confused as you are... about growing up. They at least have their parents they can talk to.”

Harry wondered for a moment if he should be offended at being called scared and confused. And don’t even get him started on how Dan had actually brought up the fact that he didn’t have his parents there for him. But then he realized though that he was scared and confused. He didn’t have anyone to talk to about that.

Who could he talk to? Remus? Maybe... but he was his professor once; that might be a little weird. Ron? Fred and George? They’d all probably start laughing at the mere mention of anything sexual, no matter how serious Harry tried to be. Poor Neville’d probably faint. And he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what his other two dorm mates thought about those topics. Who’d that leave? Draco?

Everything had changed so quickly in the last twenty-four hours. He was quite familiar with the particular event he’d woken up to, but... it had never before happened like that. It had never been that intense. And it had never been associated with Hermione. Who was he going to talk to? It was just so much to take in all at once.

But more than anything else, there was one thing that...

As Dan turned to leave the room again, Harry spoke quietly. “Is it normal?” he asked timidly as he stared intently at the end of his bed. “Is it normal to have a dream... about someone... and...” he trailed off, unintentionally glancing down for a fraction of a second, then looking back. He was desperate to hear the answer, and yet afraid to at the same time.

Harry watched as Dan studied him intently for a few moments. Finally he seemed to make some sort of decision. He didn’t actually smile, rather his expression merely lightened in understanding and sympathy.

“Yes, Harry, it is normal. Sometimes our dreams help us understand what we want or need. Sometimes they help us understand what we don’t want.” A small smile then appeared. “And sometimes they don’t make any sense and don’t help us at all.

“That said, I suspect that if it has you this... concerned, then you do know what it might mean. Sometimes our unconscious mind can tell us more than our conscious mind, especially if we’re unsure of or afraid of the answer.”

Harry looked down at his feet still under the sheets and nodded slightly, for his own benefit, really.

“Just remember, Harry... everything, all this,” Dan said, waving his hand at the world around him, “in the end, it’s all just a bunch of signals that get processed up here.” He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “When the dream feels real enough, your brain will send out the same signals as if it were real, and your body... will react accordingly.

“If you’re sure about your dreams,” he continued, “but you feel bad that you are having them...” Dan smiled in a guilty manner when Harry looked back up at him. “Hey, trust me. I was your age once. Been there. Done that.

“Remember,” Dan continued, “a man can’t be held responsible for what his mind does when he’s asleep. If you really do ‘have eyes for only one,’” he said, raising an eyebrow to indicate that he too spoke guy and had not missed what the women did, “then as long as your eyes and your dreams are on the same one, then I wouldn’t worry too much about it.

“Just remember though,” Dan added quickly, becoming serious but not threatening, “dreams are only dreams. You might not be held accountable for your dreams, but you are still responsible for your actions.” He smiled in a way that Harry found rather reassuring. Dan seemed to understand what had happened and he didn’t seem at all angry.

It seemed obvious to Harry that Dan did not suspect who he’d dreamt about. While part of him was very glad for this, since it meant he would not die today (at least at the hand of an angry father), another part of him was slightly... depressed? If Dan did not even seem to consider the possibility that he might fancy Hermione, how did that bode for his chances?

Did Dan consider his daughter to be way out of his league? Truth be told, a small part of Harry worried that exact thing. How could such a beautiful person like Hermione (forget looks for a moment) ever possibly be interested in someone like me?

Or, even worse, maybe Dan knew something about how his daughter felt about Harry? Maybe he isn’t worried because he knows that she isn’t interested in me? Maybe he knows that she already fancies someone?

Harry had gotten the impression from her that she wasn’t interested in Ron. Who else could it be? Maybe she’s still writing to Viktor?

Harry suddenly felt a seething fire of jealously roar to life in his chest. Bloody Durmstrang took HER to the ball, attacked Cedric in the maze...

“Now, I’ll leave you, and your empty hallway, to your shower.” Dan said, interrupting Harry’s internal tirade and dousing his flames slightly (though they continued to smolder). He then turned and left, heading down the stairs. The whole episode hadn’t even lasted more than a couple seconds. Harry shook his head slightly. Get a grip, Potter! She’s hasn’t even mentioned him once since Christmas. Don’t overreact!

After taking several calming breaths, he reached under his night stand, grabbed his wand, and flicked it towards his door, closing it. Dashing around his room, he quickly grabbed Dobby’s gift, some clean clothes, his bathroom kit, and finally Ginny’s gift. Now was as good a time as any to try out both of his new presents.

When Harry opened his door, he double checked to make sure there was no one in the hall, just as he had his first morning there, and every morning since then. Even though he was holding his clothes protectively over his midsection, he still didn’t want to take any chances of anyone seeing him in his present morning-state.

After a revitalizing shower (first very cool to calm him, then very warm to relax him), Harry quickly decided he might need to do a little revising on his cleaning charms. Trying to vanish the evidence of the somniatory incident, he suddenly found himself with one fewer pairs of briefs. It was a good thing he had picked up some new ones when they went shopping.

After brushing his teeth and shaving, Harry looked at the box containing Ginny’s gift. The bottle of Dr. Koolskin’s Aftershave was very practical. Dragging a sharp razor blade across one’s face on a daily basis was not always the most comfortable thing in the world. He had to admit, that was probably the only thing he envied of his uncle’s: his electric razor... not that he’d ever used one, but it did look to be more comfortable.

Harry opened the aftershave and applied some to his now slightly irritated skin. A relieved smile appeared on his face as the cobalt blue concoction worked its magic (though that probably went without saying). He was surprised however to notice that it didn’t have any smell. Then again, it came bundled with a bottle of cologne, so maybe it wasn’t supposed to have any smell.

Harry now examined the bottle containing the bright emerald green liquid.

He turned the bottle over to read the back label to find out exactly what was so “him” about it.

Congratulations on buying ‘Exactly YOU Cologne!’ You will be joining the select few experiencing the latest in Wizarding style.

Inspired by Amortentia, this unique and patent-pending formulation smells different to each person who smells it. THIS IS NOT A LOVE POTION, SO DON’T GET ANY IDEAS! NO REFUNDS IF YOU WANTED THIS FOR A LOVE POTION!

Just a few drops applied on the sides of your face and this groundbreaking advancement in Wizard grooming will take effect. Once applied, each person who detects this amazing product will immediately smell whatever positive olfactory attribute they best associate with you.

Harry laughed to himself as the text began to scroll since there was more there than the label could display.

Whether it be that bouquet of flowers you always buy for your special someone, or the smell of butterbeer for your drinking mates (yes, it works on guys too... Hey! It’s not a love potion, so don’t worry about it!), everyone who gets near you will smell EXACTLY YOU... whatever THEY think that is!

WARNING: Known side effect: People who dislike you but secretly envy something about you may be upset by this product. It tends to remind them of what you have that they don’t. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

REMEMBER: This revolutionary fragrance was only inspired by Amortentia. It is NOT a love potion. It won’t make that girl you’ve been secretly fancying suddenly fall in love with you. But you will at least smell good to her. So don’t complain when it doesn’t happen. And don’t come looking for a refund either.

Harry started chucking once he reached the end of the label. “I wonder if they got a visit from someone’s solicitor,” he said quietly to himself.

Opening the top, he took a tentative first smell. He didn’t smell anything. Of course, he hadn’t put it on yet. Applying a few drops to his hands, Harry then rubbed them on the sides of his face and his neck. He still didn’t smell anything. Then again he rarely noticed his own scent, unless he was really dirty, in which case that certainly wouldn’t be a “positive olfactory attribute.”

Harry returned to his room, adding the aftershave and cologne to his bathroom kit and putting them away. Glancing at the clock, he took note of the time: 7:30. Turning back to the door, his eye caught on Hedwig’s cage... her empty cage. His heart jumped into his throat for a second in panic until he remembered that he’d allowed her to come and go as she pleased.

Arriving in the kitchen, Harry found Dan finishing breakfast while Hermione sat at the table reading her morning Daily Prophet.

“Still nothing?” he asked. Hermione shook her head, not looking up. “Not that I’m complaining about the lack of activity, but sometimes I just feel like I’d almost prefer if something did happen... something small. Otherwise it just feels too quiet, you know?”

Hermione set down her paper and looked at him as he sat down across from her. She smiled at him in a sad sort of way. And just like that, with that smile (though sad), all thoughts of Viktor were finally extinguished. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she agreed solemnly. “But if our only two choices are no news or all-out war, then no news is good news, I suppose.”

Harry returned her sad smile and nodded in agreement. Dan began to bring over plates of breakfast. Emma came downstairs a few minutes later and joined them.

After breakfast, as they put their dishes in the dishwasher, Emma turned to Hermione. “You look well rested this morning, dear.”

“Yeah,” Hermione replied. “Well... you know, a, uh, good night’s sleep can do wonders sometimes. I actually woke up rather early, around six. I really wasn’t in a mood to go back to sleep, so I just lay there for a while, you know, nice and warm under the covers.

“By the way, Harry,” Hermione said, emphasizing his name as she elbowed him slightly, “remind me to be mad at you later. I about had a heart attack this morning when I saw Metis was gone. But then I remembered about your little window trick.”

“Well, at least this time you didn’t scream and cause someone to break down your door,” Harry teased. He heard Dan cough slightly to hide a laugh. Hermione glared at the two of them, but somehow he knew she wasn’t too angry with them.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Harry told her. “You already got your revenge. I had a similar reaction when I came back and saw Hedwig was gone too. I’m sure she’s loving it. I always have to keep her locked up at the Dursleys’.”

A few moments later, Dan looked up at the clock; it was nearly eight o’clock. “Well gang, I suppose we best be off. Everybody ready? Does everyone have their wand?” Dan teased.

If anyone had looked at Hermione at that very moment, they would have seen her biting her lower lip, fighting valiantly to hide her embarrassed smile as she recalled exactly why she woke up early that morning. Fortunately for her however, Dan and Emma were too busy teasing Harry; Harry was too busy trying to look offended at being teased.

“Hey now! It’s been weeks since then!” he replied defensively.

“Do you have your Gringotts letter?” Hermione, now recovered, asked knowingly as she pulled hers out of her jeans pocket.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed briefly. “I was just on my way up to get it,” he said unconvincingly. “Why do we need it anyway?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied simply. “But how would you feel if we got there and they suddenly asked you for it for some reason?”

Harry smiled slightly. He couldn’t find any fault with that bit of reasoning. Then again, that wasn’t at all really surprising, considering the source. While he was up in his room retrieving his letter, he took a moment to put an owl treat in Hedwig’s cage for when she returned.

He then turned his attention to Neville’s Venus Flytrap which was sitting near his stack of school books. He would need to feed it soon. Since he assumed that he would be able to give it to Neville at the party yesterday, he hadn’t bothered to look at the feeding instructions that came with it.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry heard Dan and Emma’s voices raised in surprise. “HERMIONE JANE! What did you just do?!” He walked quickly into the kitchen where he found a flabbergasted-looking Dan and Emma in very nice wizarding robes, looking at their garments in shock. A grinning Hermione was dressed similarly.

As he walked in slightly confused, Hermione turned to him. “We never did get around to telling them that we were now allowed to do magic outside of school, did we?”

“No, you most certainly did not,” Emma replied, looking relieved. “And here I was scared to death that a bunch of Ministry people would suddenly swoop in here and put you on trial too for that little stunt just now.”

“Sorry about that, Emma,” Harry intervened, much to Hermione’s relief. “We just found out yesterday that we’ve been exempted from the underage ban. Guess the topic never came up.”

“Well that’s good to know, now,” Emma said, staring pointedly at Hermione, who smiled embarrassedly.

Turning away from her mother, Hermione then studied Harry for a moment. “Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked.

Harry looked down at himself. He was dressed in his school uniform again. She said to dress nicely... This was the nicest thing he had, other than his dress robes. All of the clothes he picked up when they went shopping were casual, everyday wear. She told him not to wear dress robes. He hadn’t worn them in a year and a half. Not since the Yule Ball. And Hermione in that blue dress... Periwinkle...

Looking back up, he was about to say that it was what he was going to wear when he saw Dan behind her, staring at him with his eyes wide and shaking his head emphatically. Emma saw him do this and slapped his chest lightly, smiling all the while. Glad they find this funny, Harry thought to himself.

“Erm, no?” Harry said uncertainly. Hermione then pulled out her wand and transfigured his jumper into robes to match theirs; the shirt and tie remained.

Dan and Emma tried to hide their smiles at him having to be dressed as well. “Everyone ready?” Dan asked.

Once outside, the four of them headed down the walk towards the car. Harry felt the car door close behind him in his chest as much as he heard it in his ears. He could feel something heavy begin to weigh down upon him. This was it. There was no funeral; there would be none. Essentially, this was Harry’s last goodbye to Sirius: the reading of his will.

After a few moments in the car, all three Grangers took in an extra breath at about the same time, as though they’d suddenly smelled something and were trying to figure out what it was. Harry could understand why they hadn’t noticed it during breakfast. He himself rarely noticed anything else over the smell of bacon.

None of them said anything about his cologne, but Harry could see looks of recognition appear on both Hermione’s and Dan’s faces (Emma was directly in front of him, so he couldn’t see her). As he thought about what the label said, he realized they were just smelling whatever they associated with him, so that was probably why they didn’t say anything: they just smelled him (but in a good way).

The drive was very quiet, albeit short. They ended up driving only about a mile to the nearby Underground stop, the East Putney Station. The Leaky Cauldron was on the opposite side of London as Wandsworth. Though it was after the morning rush, driving all the way through the city (or completely around it) would take a long time. And good luck trying to find a place to park once they got there.

At different times on the train ride into London, all three Grangers noticed the shift in Harry’s mood. Hermione, who was sitting next to him, and Dan and Emma on the opposite side of the train all looked at him with concern at one point or another. Each silently asked with a look if he was okay. Each time, he replied with a nod.

He wasn’t really okay, but he was holding on. So in a way, the nod was true enough. Finally, the four of them arrived at the Underground station nearest The Leaky Cauldron. After a brief walk, they saw the big book shop they all knew so well. It was the one right next to the record shop. Or so it appeared that way to the Muggles walking by.

But Harry knew better. As soon as he was close enough to get a good look at it, the tiny, grubby looking pub suddenly appeared. The four of them stood there for a moment, looking at it.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked at her watch. “Eight-forty,” she replied.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. He grabbed hold of the door handle and opened it. None of the passersby on the street paid any attention to the four people wearing overly warm clothing as they disappeared from the street outside.

As Harry’s eyes adjusted to the dark pub, he was immediately greeted by several witches and wizards, all eagerly shaking his hand. With Voldemort’s return now common knowledge, people were scared. There’d been no attacks yet, but still...

No one who was not in the Department of Mysteries a month and a half ago knew the full details of what happened that night, other than what Fudge chose to tell them. Despite that, the sudden arrival of the Boy Who Lived into their small world brought them some semblance of hope.

Harry slowly worked his way through the patrons and the attention towards the back of the pub. It was surprisingly full for 8:40 in the morning; then again, they were serving breakfast to all of the people who had taken rooms. Perhaps it was because they were unknown faces in normal wizarding attire, but no one paid any attention to Dan and Emma, who were the last in the door. Those who knew enough of Harry from the Prophet over the years also cast glances at Hermione as she followed him.

A couple of witches cast disapproving glares at her. As she was literally only a step behind him, Harry could see them as well. One in particular caught his attention. In the middle of the crowd was a middle-aged woman he did not recognize. When he looked at her, she reminded him a great deal of his Aunt Petunia, not in appearance but in attitude. She had the look of a person who made other people’s business her own.

Remembering that the last time Hermione’s name was in the paper it was in regards to her toying with his affections in fourth year with Viktor, Harry again began to feel very protective of her. He knew that, if properly provoked, Hermione could probably easily hex half the bar into oblivion (and he would gladly take the other half for provoking her). Despite that, he still felt protective of her. He knew that she probably didn’t need his protection; he just wanted to stop the unwarranted glares in the first place.

Harry slowed, stepping slightly to the side, allowing Hermione to come up along next to him as they continued to walk. He then placed his hand on her back in the guise of directing her around a chair. As he did so, he looked directly at the woman and glared with such intensity to cause her to blanch and return to her breakfast.

To everyone else however, who’d been focusing their attention on the legend standing only a few feet from them and not on his companions, it merely looked like the Boy Who Lived had directed a friend around an obstacle as he looked off towards one corner of the room.

Finally, they reached the back of the bar and walked out into the courtyard behind it. Harry stared at the wall that separated them from Diagon Alley. After a moment, he pulled out his wand and walked up to it. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to be strong. He had to do this for Sirius. He opened his eyes and then tapped a certain brick three times, a brick he now recognized without having to count so many over and so many up.

The four of them watched as the bricks began to rearrange themselves, forming an archway that opened up onto a street behind it. When the bricks stopped moving, Harry and Hermione stepped through onto Diagon Alley, with Dan and Emma right behind them.

The party of four slowly strolled up the street, working their way towards Gringotts Bank. It was a quiet morning: too early for a majority of shoppers, and too late for people who had to work to be out and about. Each of them looked in the windows of the shops as they walked by. There would be time for that later.

All too soon, they found themselves before the front doors of Gringotts. As he stood there looking at them, Harry discovered that these burnished bronze doors stood between him and what he now suddenly realized he was actually looking forward to.

Until this very moment, in the back of his mind, the reading of Sirius’s will was nothing more than a business transaction... the exchanging of money and property. The coldness of that, combined with the fact that it was the proof that Sirius was dead made it something to which he’d not been looking forward.

But now that he was here, waiting to be let into the still-closed bank, he realized that if Sirius had gone to the effort of divvying up his property, then maybe, just maybe he also took a minute to leave a message of some kind for him. It was, Harry knew, the kind of message that would have been intended to literally be the last thing Sirius would ever say to him. Now that he thought about it like that, he was actually beginning to feel slightly hopeful about this. Rather than a final farewell, it was now another chance to (figuratively) talk to his godfather.

Standing in front of the doors, he felt someone come up and stand next to, and slightly behind him. The person was too far back to even be visible in his peripheral vision, though he really didn’t need to be able to see her to know who it was.

“What time is it?” Harry asked her again.

“Three minutes later than the last time you asked me that,” Hermione replied. Harry could somehow hear that she was smiling as she said it. She was trying to lighten the mood a little. Though he was certain he was feeling well enough to not need the mood lightened, he was still extremely grateful that she seemed to care enough to even try.

Hermione took another tiny step forward, coming up directly beside him. As she did, Harry could feel the fabric of his robes rustle slightly as the fabric of her robes brushed against his. Although there was no actually physical contact, Harry felt comforted merely by her presence.

A minute or two later, he turned to see where Dan and Emma had gone. He found them a few yards behind him, happily admiring some of the architectural details of the very old building. While he wasn’t really surprised that they might do something like that, he had the strangest suspicion that something about it wasn’t right.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Harry felt as though they’d been studying him, and not the building. Deciding that if they were, it was because of their concern for how he was feeling, he shook the feeling off and returned to staring at the front door.

About five minutes later, Harry was beginning to wonder how this was going to work. The letter said to be there at nine o’clock in the morning, but the bank didn’t open for business until ten. He was about to ask Hermione about this when suddenly...

“MATE!” Ron shouted out, about a foot behind him; both Harry and Hermione jumped in surprise. The two of them turned around to find a small army of gray robes, all topped with red hair, standing with Dan and Emma. They all appeared highly amused.

Though they hadn’t been doing anything, Harry and Hermione both took a slight step away from each other simultaneously, unbeknownst to the other until it was too late. What should have been a very subtle movement by one now looked rather obvious when combined. Harry hoped that if anyone did notice this, they would assume it was simply the last movement from turning around.

“Ron, Ginny,” Harry started as he saw that all of the Weasleys were there. “Are you all here for Sirius?” he asked. He figured that if they were, there was no point in actually mentioning the will.

“Yeah,” Ron answered solemnly after he stopped grinning from startling him. “Mum and Dad got a letter a while ago saying that we were all supposed to be here.”

After a couple minutes of idle chit chat (Harry couldn’t help but notice Ginny watching Hermione intently as she and he talked to Ron about their O.W.L.s), a large group of people suddenly apparated into the street behind them.

It was a group of six Aurors led by Kingsley Shacklebolt, all looking as though they were scanning the area. Once they seemed satisfied with whatever they were doing, Kingsley tapped a watch on his wrist with his wand. A moment later, five more people apparated in: Lupin, Tonks, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and none other than the Minister of Magic herself, Amelia Bones.

“Why am I always the one on the receiving end of these bloody things?” Tonks cried out in complaint immediately as she rubbed her wrist, wincing.

“Because they were your idea,” Lupin, McGonagall, and Amelia Bones all replied in unison. Evidently this was not the first time they’d had this discussion. Tonks immediately sought to separate herself from her traveling companions.

“Ron! Ginny! Harry! Hermione! Anyone!” she greeted them desperately, “Save me from my heartless associates!”

“Hello, Tonks,” they all replied, returning the smile she was now giving them.

“What’re we all standing around for?” she asked as she walked towards the front door, nearly tripping over one of the cobblestones in the street.

“Gringotts is still closed,” Ron replied.

“Did anyone knock on the door?” Tonks asked. “They told us to be here at nine, after all.”

Everyone else looked at each other with comments like “Never thought of that,” and “Didn’t get that far.” Tonks knocked on the door. A few moments later, a disgruntled looking goblin opened the door. Harry recognized him as Griphook.

“Is there a problem?” Griphook asked disdainfully. “We don’t open for another hour.”

“We’re here to see Darmok,” Tonks said in a tone full of authority. Harry tried not to laugh at the surprise he felt. He was so used to seeing her with pink hair and tripping over things that he sometimes forgot she was an Auror. She certainly must’ve been able to present herself properly when the time was required.

“Ah... the Black Estate,” Griphook replied with pleasure, as though he’d been waiting for them. Now that he knew that they were supposed to be here this early, his demeanor changed immediately. “Come right in, come right in.”

Walking through the silver doors upon which the warning to “those who take, but do not earn” was engraved, Harry thought about how when every time he walked through these doors, he was reminded of the first time he came here with Hagrid, when they retrieved the Philosopher’s Stone. How long ago that now seemed.

As they walked through the marble bank lobby, Amelia Bones came up along side of Harry. “Mister Potter,” she greeted him warmly. “A pleasure to meet you again. Almost been a year now, hasn’t it?” she asked with a hint of a smile.

“Yes, it has,” Harry replied. “And I must say that it’s much more agreeable to see you outside of a courtroom,” he said, returning her smile. As the large group approached a conference room at the back of the large hall, Harry began to wonder something.

“Minister, please forgive me for asking, and no offense intended, but why are you here?” he asked with as friendly a voice as he could speak.

“Oh, no offense taken, Mister Potter. May I call you Harry?” she asked suddenly as they reached the door to the conference room and waited; Harry nodded. “Honestly Harry, I don’t know. I received an owl addressed to Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, requesting his presence today. Since it was addressed to him as Minister and not him personally, I am here in his place.”

Madam Bones chuckled slightly. “Somehow I suspect that our dear Mister Black had a few choice last words for my predecessor.” Harry began to look slightly anxious about what Sirius might have had to say to Fudge and how Madam Bones would have to endure that.

She must have noticed his apprehension for she quickly spoke up. “Not to worry, Harry. Though I am now Minister in Cornelius’s place, I still know that it was addressed to him. I promise I won’t take anything your godfather had to say too personally.

“Who knows? I might even get an honest opinion of Cornelius for once.” Seeing Harry’s confused look, she continued. “You’d be surprised. Even now that he’s gone, people are still often wary of criticizing him. Not because they care that he finds out, but rather that they don’t want to be seen as complainers.

“After all, if they’re willing to complain about Cornelius now that he’s gone, maybe people will think they’ll complain about me too, or about their department heads, et cetera. Do you understand what I mean?” she asked. Harry shook his head unsurely.

“Tell me Harry, what do you think of your Potions Master?” Madam Bones asked unexpectedly.

“Snape?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Professor Snape,” she corrected him.

“Oh, yes, Professor Snape. Well... he’s... erm... he’s very knowledgeable about potions,” he spluttered, feeling very on the spot.

“I see,” Madam Bones replied. “And is he an effective teacher in your opinion?”

Oh, Harry knew the answer to that question all too easily. But for some reason, he found himself having a hard time saying it to the Minister of Magic. He could complain for hours about Professor Snape to his classmates, but now he found it rather difficult.

“I see,” she repeated after a few moments of silence. She then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “So you don’t think he’s a slimy, greasy-haired git?” Harry blinked in shock at what he just heard the Minister of Magic say.

“I do have a niece at Hogwarts, you know,” she explained. “I hear all about him from her. But amazingly enough, none of her friends have ever told me that when I asked... even before I was Minister. They all seemed to struggle, like you, to try to find something nice to say about him, rather than just answering honestly. Did you know that he’s very punctual?” she asked with a smile. “So yes, I am actually looking forward to whatever Sirius has to say.”

A few minutes later, at precisely nine o’clock, the door of the conference room opened. Behind it stood a rather tall goblin (by their standards) dressed in a very formal business suit; most Gringotts goblins wore the standard uniform of scarlet and gold.

“Good morning,” Darmok, Executor of the Black Estate, greeted them. “Please, step inside.” The assorted conversations that had been going on while they waited immediately died down as everyone started to file in. Everyone, that is, except for one person.

Once inside, Harry turned slightly and noticed that Professor Dumbledore had not joined them. He returned to the doorway.

“Aren’t you coming in, sir?” Harry asked.

“No,” the Headmaster replied simply. “I was merely accompanying the Minister here after my latest visit.”

“But... this is for Sirius,” Harry said in a rather lost voice, almost feeling wounded.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I cannot attend. I was not invited,” Dumbledore explained with a hint of sadness. The look on Harry’s face was obviously one of shock and confusion. He opened his mouth twice to try to speak, but nothing came out.

“Harry, Sirius and I did not see eye to eye on a great many number of things last year. It is not entirely unexpected therefore that he might not have wanted me here today.” An almost fond smile appeared on the older wizard’s face. “I like to think that this is his way of having the final word from our last ‘discussion.’”

While part of Harry did understand Sirius’s feelings and part of him did not, none of him knew why the Headmaster looked as though he was almost happy about it.

“The last time Sirius and I talked, he said some things. While I heard his words, I quite possibly did not listen to what he was saying. Call it another old man’s mistake. That was the first week of June. Needless to say, I became somewhat busy after that, and did not have another chance to speak with him... ever again.”

Harry was too focused on the Headmaster to see or hear the sound of several people arguing on the other side of the lobby by the front doors.

“I left things at a place where, today, I would rather I hadn’t. Even now, the Marauder is able to teach me a thing or two. So... no, Harry, I am not upset to be left out of this meeting. I have no need for more possessions... as I’m sure you can well attest.”

Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Harry, his eyes sparkling and twinkling as happily as he could ever remember seeing them. Seeing his Headmaster in such good spirits about this helped wash away some of his own discomfort about the situation.

“If this is his last request of me, then I am happy to honor it,” Dumbledore finished. He then set his hand on Harry’s shoulder, gave it a couple pats, then turned and headed back into the lobby, still obscuring the view of what was going on out there.

As Harry turned around to where everyone else was seated waiting for him, the earlier commotion finally reached the conference room.

“... demand to be let in! I am of direct relation to him!” a tall, slim, blonde woman insisted, barging into the conference room.

“Narcissa Malfoy,” Madam Bones greeted the new arrival courteously but coolly. “A pleasure to see you again, today. And Mister Malfoy. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” she added as Draco arrogantly came striding in behind his mother. Upon his arrival, he immediately began glaring at Harry.

“Minister?” Narcissa replied, clearly surprised. She also did not appear to be entirely thrilled at seeing her here. Then again, Mrs. Lucius Malfoy usually looked like that, so who was to say? “What’re you doing here?”

Madam Bones cast Harry, who was standing between the two women, the most fleeting of glances before speaking. “My business is my own, so I don’t ordinarily answer such questions. However, to be honest, I don’t know. The attendance of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was requested, so... here I am.”

For some reason, the mention of Fudge’s name seemed to make Narcissa a little happier. Harry wondered if possibly she hoped to get something out of this if Fudge was supposed to have been involved.

“What brings you here on this fine day?” Madam Bones asked. Harry was quite certain he already knew the answer.

“One of my relatives has died,” Narcissa replied, sounding very sincere; Harry was impressed. “I am here to assist with any of the final arrangements, in any way needed.”

Harry SO wanted to say something just then. Now would’ve been a very ideal time for one of those two-word responses he’d once considered a couple of weeks ago. However, seeing as how the Minister had been handling the situation very nicely so far, he decided to see what she did first.

To Harry’s surprise, Madam Bones actually smiled as she turned to go to her seat. But there was something about her smile that told him that this was not over just yet. He glanced over to Narcissa and Draco to see both of them wearing their usual arrogant, smug expressions. Draco sneered at him, glanced briefly towards where Harry assumed Hermione was, and then silently mouthed the words “scarhead” and “mudblood.”

Deciding it not wise to start a fight in front of the Minister of Magic, Harry turned around to find a seat.

The conference room was very informal in arrangement. Amazingly enough, it seemed ideal for this type of meeting. A large business table was in the front of the room, upon which sat a few sheets of parchment and a small stack of envelopes. Built into the table was a small speaking podium, obviously designed for someone of goblin stature.

In front of the table were a number of squashy sofas, each of which would comfortably seat two or three people. Also coincidently enough, the sofas seemed to be arranged to match the occupants.

A small grouping of four sofas on the far side of the room sat all of the Weasleys. Another four on Harry’s side sat Hermione, Dan and Emma, Tonks and Lupin, and Professor McGonagall. And in the middle of the room were three for Madam Bones and her Auror escorts. Seeing an empty seat next to Hermione (and her subtly glancing at it as she looked at him), Harry sat down next to her.

“Mr. Darmok,” Madam Bones called, indicating he may begin.

“Thank you all for coming here this morning,” Darmok started. “But before we begin... What was your name again, madam?” he asked, looking towards the two Malfoys.

“Narcissa Malfoy,” she stated professionally. The goblin continued to stare at her. “Mrs. Lucius Malfoy,” she said, very proudly.

“Ah, thank you,” Darmok replied as he started looking at a sheet of parchment. “I’m sorry, but according to my records, you have no business here.”

“WHAT?!” Narcissa shouted out indignantly. “Sirius Black was my cousin! How can you say that I have no business here?!” At Darmok’s raised eyebrow, she quickly lowered her tone of voice, though it was evident that she was still enraged.

“Quite simply, madam.” Darmok replied very professionally. “Your name is not on the list of bequeathments,” he explained as if he personally didn’t care whether she was there or not. All he seemed interested in was who was on the list and who wasn’t. Harry wondered slightly how she knew about this meeting if she wasn’t invited. Then again, small details such as actually being invited didn’t seem be of much importance to families like the Malfoys.

“There MUST be some mistake!” Narcissa argued, beginning to lose her composure.

“I doubt it,” Darmok replied. “However... What is your ancestry?”

“The House of Black,” Narcissa replied confidently.

“What is your lineage?”

“Pureblood,” she said with relish. Both she and Draco then cast an obvious look of contempt at both Harry and Hermione.

“When you married Mr. Lucius Malfoy, did you take the traditional pureblood marriage oath?”

“Of course,” Narcissa replied proudly. Just then, Harry felt Hermione nudge him subtly with her elbow as she sat next to him. He smiled slightly; he too realized where this was leading.

The Executor of the Black Estate certainly did not disappoint. “Thank you,” Darmok replied professionally. “Since you have not been invited by the Estate, you have no business here in this private transaction. By your confirmation of pureblood marriage oath, a binding magical and legal contract, you no longer have any claim to the family name Black. You therefore have no legal stature to contest the validity of this Will.”

Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco, looked fit to be tied. “WHAT?! How DARE—”

“If you would like to debate this further,” Darmok interrupted her, “you may discuss it with them.” He then pointed behind Narcissa. Everyone who’d been watching the tall goblin with rapture simultaneously turned to see where he was pointing.

In the doorway now stood two very unfriendly looking goblins. Both Narcissa and Draco seemed to freeze for a moment when they saw them. These goblins did not wear uniforms of scarlet and gold like the others. Instead, they wore black and white; they were surprisingly reminiscent of the uniforms of the Metropolitan Police. All that was missing was the iconic checkerboard cap.

The battleaxes these two carried however, suggested that they did not respond to telephone calls to 999, nor did they issue citations for running red lights. After silently staring at the sharp implements for a few moments, Narcissa seemed to regain her head of steam. She turned back to Darmok and opened her mouth to start again.

Darmok cut her off before she could speak. “Now, I must ask you to leave. You are disrupting banking business.”

Those must have been the magic words, for both Narcissa’s and Draco’s faces immediately drained of color... an impressive, though unflattering sight for people as pale as they normally were. Now they looked at the goblins in black and white in genuine fear. Neither spoke another word and immediately turned to leave, giving the security goblins a wide berth as they passed; the goblins followed the Malfoys out, closing the door behind them.

“My apologies,” Darmok offered to the group.

“Not at all. It was our pleasure, I assure you,” one of the two twins immediately piped up. Everyone began to snicker slightly.

“Very well. Your presence has been requested here today for the reading of the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black. A Will can be made in many ways. Mister Black has elected to write a letter to all of you that I am to read. Then, the actual bequeathments will be made in the form of private letters that he wrote to each party listed. If there are no questions, we will begin.”

Seeing none, Darmok picked up a solitary envelope that was sitting next to a larger stack of envelopes. He ran his finger over the envelope several times, presumably to verify authenticity, in a fashion not unlike when Griphook opened vault seven hundred thirteen almost five years ago. Seemingly satisfied, he opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside.

“Dated 29 February, 1996.”

Why am I not surprised Sirius would do this on the leap day? Harry mused to himself. Oh, and he hasn’t updated it since then...

“My dear family and friends,

“I wish that I could say this letter finds you well, but I have this dogging suspicion that if you are reading this, then I am dead. That certainly has to have put a damper on things.

“I have much to say to each of you here today. If I’d been able to get out a little more these last couple years, I might’ve been able to do this with a little more pizzazz. However, since I’ve been cooped up here, you know where, doing who knows what, I had to settle for writing letters.

“To be honest, now that I’m finished with them all, I must confess that I rather like it this way. I think I prefer to be able to leave you all with a letter... something more than a few gold coins and a useless recording of my voice or some Pensieve echo of a memory.

“Each of you will be getting your own letter where I will be able to say the things that I really wanted to. I don’t want to be repetitive, so I’ll keep this letter as short as possible.

“But, before we get into it, there is one little detail I felt I needed to add. I have the feeling that some of you, (stare pointedly at each person in the room)...” Darmok said, then paused for a second, staring at the letter. “Oh, my apologies. That was a note for me,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I have the feeling that some of you,” he resumed, pausing for a second to stare pointedly at each person in the room. At this point, Harry could not help himself. He put his head down, covered his face with his hand, and began to shake slightly. When Hermione leaned forward slightly about to ask if he was alright, she noticed that he was not fighting back tears, but rather laughter.

“... might try to sit there and say that you refuse to accept whatever I’ve left for you, that you’d rather have me back than some trinket.” Harry’s stifled laughter had subsided by now, though he still hadn’t lifted his head yet.

“But, we all know that isn’t how the world works. Since I refuse to allow any unclaimed inheritances to go to my dear Minister Fudge, I have decided that if any of you should decline to accept your gift, that it be split evenly between my dear cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix. I hope that’s motivation enough to stop the ‘I don’t want any money,’ objections.

“So! Down the business at hand.

“I, Sirius Padfoot Black (Padfoot not my legal name), of...” Darmok said, then stared at the letter again and sighed. Harry suddenly burst out laughing. Everyone in the room turned to look at him. Now that the ice had been broken, several other people allowed themselves to start laughing at the difficulties Sirius was putting his executor through.

“I’m... so s-sorry... ev-everyone,” Harry choked out between laughs. It was just that whole ‘stare pointedly at everyone’ thing a minute ago. It just made me want to laugh. I’m sorry. And then when Sirius did it again with his name... I just couldn’t help it.”

Once he and everyone else was settled, Harry looked up to Darmok, who was obviously waiting for them to finish.

“Again, I’m sorry, Mister Darmok. Please continue.” The goblin nodded, slightly in gratitude, slightly in annoyance.

“I, Sirius Black, of competent mind, do hereby bequest upon my friends and family the so-named items contained in the attached, sealed letters.

“Please, all of you, though I am no longer with you in body, know that I will always be with you in heart and spirit. I look forward to the day when you will join me. But remember, as Remus can attest, it takes me forever to pack and unpack my school trunk, so, please, don’t be in any rush to join me here. I’m not in any hurry. And besides, it isn’t as if I’m getting any older.” A couple of snickers could be heard in the otherwise quiet room.

“I love you all.

“Padfoot,” Darmok finished, set the letter down, and then grabbed the stack of envelopes and set them on his podium. He then began speaking from memory as if he had given this speech many times before.

“Here you will find your individual letters. You will find there is a place for each person to sign at the bottom of the letter. For transactions of property, your signature constitutes a legal contract to take ownership of said property. Any person not Of Age receiving property must have a parent or legal guardian signature as well.”

Harry suddenly became worried. Did that mean he would need to have the Dursleys there? But then he remembered that the letter said their presence was requested, but not required.

“For transactions of money only, your signature confirms that you have accepted and received the sum. It will also automatically complete the transfer to your account. No parent or guardian signature is required for monetary transactions. Persons who have individual bequests but do not have their own vault should see the Executor, me, before signing.”

Darmok then began going through the envelopes, calling names and handing out the letters as they came up.

“Minister of Magic. Minerva McGonagall. Hermione Granger. Gred, Forge, and family. Tripsy.” Upon hearing that name, Harry looked around to see if he’d somehow missed someone in the room who he didn’t recognize. A slightly red-faced Tonks came up and took the letter.

“Moony.” On her way back to her seat, ‘Tripsy’ smacked Lupin in arm when she saw the grin on his face as he walked up to get his letter.

Harry’s letter was the last one called. “Prongs, Jr.,” Darmok read.

Everyone was waiting for him. Since he was designated as the primary beneficiary, no one could open their letters until he opened his.

Sitting back down on the sofa, Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he opened his eyes, he looked down at the envelope, broke the wax seal, then opened it and pulled out the letter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: OK! I know I said a “couple days.” I had every intention of it being a couple days... but a couple parts slowed me down. But... it’s done NOW! YAY!!!

As for my note from last chapter... Dan quoted Captain Picard from the episode “Attached” of Star Trek: The Next Generation. In that episode, his and Dr. Crusher’s minds were linked by an alien device. Before it was removed, she tells him that “thanks to the implant, I got to ‘hear’ some very interesting dreams of yours.” After an awkward moment, he replies in good humor, “a man can’t be held responsible for what his mind does when he’s asleep.”

Like I said... just for fun... but if I’m going to blatantly borrow, I want to say so. :-)

And of course, THANK YOU to my beta, MapleMountain.

---

Chapter 20. Where There’s a Will...

Harry sat for several minutes, staring at the still-folded letter, listening to the sound of everyone else unfolding theirs. He just couldn’t read it yet. He wanted this to be over with as quickly as possible, and at the same time, he also wanted it to take as long as possible.

As the minutes slowly passed by, he heard several people walk up to the table sign their letters, and then return to their seats. Though he didn’t look to see who they were, hearing from where in the room they walked, he knew it was the Minister, Professor McGonagall, Remus, and Tonks. He soon heard a gasp from the opposite side of the room, and then came the disbelieving voice of Molly.

“No...”

That much? Harry wondered as he looked over to the other side of the room where all of the Weasleys were standing around Fred and George. He was quite certain that the more money Sirius left them, the more likely they would have been to refuse it, if it wasn’t for his “little detail.” He also thought it fitting that the Marauder would put Fred and George in charge this time.

Harry also threw a quick glance towards Madam Bones. He was relieved to see her smiling as she re-read the letter. He wanted to turn around to see Professor McGonagall, Tonks, and Lupin, but he felt that would have a little too obvious, not to mention intrusive. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Hermione’s reaction.

A few minutes later, Harry heard Hermione fold her letter back up and set it in her lap. After a few moments, she turned in her seat to face him. He looked back up and turned to look at her as well. Her eyes glistening slightly, she took his hand and then whispered to him, “I promise.”

Harry stared at her with a slightly confused look on his face. “You promise what?” he whispered back.

“Didn’t you read your letter?” she asked incredulously. He shook his head guiltily. Hermione rolled her eyes and then gave him a look that clearly meant, “READ your letter!”

Harry nodded and began to open it. As he did, Hermione went up to Darmok to inquire about opening an account and getting her own vault. Harry began to read.

Dear Harry,

There are so many things that I want to say to you. First, let me just say that I plan on rewriting this letter every so often, just to try to keep it up to date. This is the fifth time I’ve written it since you and your friend rescued me. I know it may seem a little morbid, but considering there’s a war brewing and that I’m still a wanted man, unfortunately it’s the only way I can make sure my last words to you are the ones that I want to say now.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to be there for you for all those years I was locked away. I know that it was out of my control, but it doesn’t make it any easier. What’s done is done, and we can’t change it.

I’m also sorry that I won’t be there for you in the future. I would’ve loved to have been there for you to have you ask me all about girls and Quidditch (and girls).

I would’ve loved to have been there standing with you as you asked that one special girl to spend the rest of your life with you. I was lucky to be able to do that for your father. It was the second happiest day of my life. The happiest of course was the day you were born to my best friends, and they told me they wanted me to be your godfather.

Please, just know that although I won’t be able there standing beside you, I will still be there with you. Oh, Merlin. Didn’t I just say something about not being repetitive?

Harry let out a slight chuckle.

Harry, please tell me that someone laughed at something in my letter. I tried to put a couple little somethings in there. I figured that everyone would’ve had enough of being sad at my funeral, so I hoped that a laugh or two might help lighten everyone’s spirits.

These past few months have changed my outlook slightly, so I must admit that this latest letter is unlike any of the previous four that I’ve written. Obviously, if you’re reading this, then I haven’t rewritten it yet, so everything in here should be recent enough that it makes sense.

In my earlier letters, I left you with all kinds of advice on how to live your life. I even put in a few “amusing” stories to share with Remus. But not this time.

This time, there is only one thing I want to ask of you: LIVE!

Live your life. And I don’t mean “don’t get yourself killed by Voldemort.” I mean, LIVE your life!

Being locked away here these past few months, I’ve realized that there’s no point in being alive if you don’t LIVE that life.

And so, I want you to promise me something: I want you to LIVE every day that you are alive. It now means more to me to know that you will enjoy and think more about your life ahead of you than relive whatever stupid pranks your father and I pulled on poor Snivellus and bemoan the fact that I’m gone.

That also means trying a little harder than I did in my last two years of school. You never know when some obscure charm OR POTION might save you someday.

Snivellus “accidentally” put me in the Hospital Wing for four days in seventh year. He knew I’d been sliding my way through Defense. He pulled that spell straight out of the assigned reading... reading that I hadn’t done. People will use your own weaknesses against you. Don’t give them the chance! (Oh, and don’t worry... Snivellus had his own accident a month later.)

If I died in battle, then you need to know that it is important for you to LIVE your life because there is a war coming. The time will soon come when you find yourself in the middle of that war. When it does come, you may not have any more after it, so I hope that the time you did have was well spent.

If I died by getting hit by the Knight Bus, then you need to know that it is important for you to LIVE your life because there are never any guarantees in life. Tomorrow may never come. If it doesn’t, I hope that the time you did have was well spent.

If I died at the hands of an angry father... well... do as I say and not as I do. Just make sure you get to know the girl’s father a little better before hand.

Harry chuckled again, considering he thought something along those lines a couple hours ago.

Oh, come on! You had to have laughed at THAT!

The chuckle turned into a laugh.

And finally... if by some tiny chance, Severus had anything to do with my death, I want you to promise me this: do NOTHING! Your life is too important to me to have you spend the rest of it in Azkaban because you decided to seek revenge. Please, hear me out.

I promise you this: a person can not play both sides for very long before he finally loses his footing and slips. Sooner or later, Snape will slip up and he will die, at the hand of either Dumbledore or Voldemort.

If by some miracle he makes it through the war unscathed, I firmly believe in the saying that the best revenge is living well. I DON’T CARE what happens to Snivellus if I know you are LIVING well. Enjoy your life. Get married. Have a couple kids. All while Snivellus rots away in his dungeon alone.

So, Harry, here’s the hard part. I want you to promise that you will do everything in your power to LIVE your life.

I want you to tell your friend Hermione that you promise to do as I’ve asked. You won’t need to tell her what you are promising. All that matters is that you promise. I’ve told her to expect your promise. I’ve also asked her to promise something to me as well.

Why Hermione? Well, let me just say that I’m speaking from personal experience on this one. James, Remus, and I all found it much harder to lie to Lily than to each other. We could rarely pull the wool over her eyes... Well, except for your father, but that was only because it was her jumper and then... well, somehow I don’t think you want to hear about that.

Harry let out a small groan. Now he really knew why Hermione was complaining about Dan and Emma snogging when they were in the mall eating lunch that day. It was one thing to think about his aunt and uncle snogging. Harry had to close his eyes for a second to brace himself against that thought.

It was another thing entirely to have Sirius cause him to consider the possibility that his father would actually take off his mother’s clothes... and then they might even... have sex... with each other, no less! Harry shuddered at the thought.

So, Harry, time to pay up. Promise me that you’ll do everything you can to LIVE your life. What’s the point in defeating Voldemort if you wallow away your years because I’m not there? Promise me!

And now, finally, let’s get to the business: business.

I, Sirius Black, do hereby bequest to Harry James Potter the entirety of the Black Estate, minus all other bequests as itemized on the attached schedule.

Harry, I am leaving you everything that remains after I hand out a few parting gifts. More than the money, which is not an insignificant figure I might add, there are two things I wanted to address specifically: Grimmauld Place and my motorbike.

They are both yours. I am willing them to Remus temporarily to be put into a trust until you turn seventeen. If I tried to give them to you directly, today (whenever today is...), then we’d need your uncle here to sign for it, and I’m sure neither of us would want that. The motorbike should be safely stored away. Hagrid should know where. Heck, I wouldn’t even have put it past him to take it out on occasion!

You will notice that a small mark will appear next to each of the listings as everyone signs their documents. Please do not sign yours until everyone else has finished. It makes things easier in the long run.

I do not want a single Knut to go to the Ministry as part of an unclaimed inheritance. You may think my insistence odd, but I found it highly coincidental that Fudge would quietly push through a banking reform measure only days after I escaped from Azkaban. He knew that I hadn’t had the time or ability to write a will while I was in Azkaban. All that money sitting in my vault was obviously too great a temptation for him. Was it any wonder he issued orders to kill me on sight?

Imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning in one of my early hiding spots to find a letter from Gringotts explaining the change in banking law. On that note Harry, I strongly encourage you to write a will yourself.

You’re going to be a very wealthy man by the end of the day, so you’re going to want to make sure it’s safe when you leave this world. There are plenty of Fudges and Malfoys out there, so make sure your money goes where you want it to. And don’t fuss too much about exactly how to divide it. You can always change your mind later. And if you do it by owl (or tropical bird) like I did, it’s really easy. So no excuses!

Remember that life here is but a blink of an eye compared that to which waits for us beyond, regardless of whether you live to be twenty or two hundred twenty. I think Dumbledore once called it the “next great adventure.” While you’re HERE, make the most of this adventure.

And make sure you kick Voldemort’s arse for me!

P.S. By the way, I lied about refused gifts going to my other two cousins. Anything refused will go to you. Actually, I did have this set up like that once. But now that this thing with Percy Weasley has come up, I had to take that out since I knew there was a good chance he would not be here today. If he’s here today, great. If he’s not, oh well, it’s his loss. I just REALLY didn’t want all that money going to my other cousins. As long as you claim your “balance of Estate,” Fudge won’t get anything.

Love forever,

Sirius

Included with the letter was a summary schedule that listed all of the actual disbursements.

Gringotts Bank

Black Estate

Article A: One property, attached house, and non-itemized contents contained therein: 12 Grimmauld Place. (77,515 Galleons)

Article B: One magical motorized vehicle. (2,602 Galleons)

Article C: Sealed box containing non-itemized jewelry, Gringotts Vault 711. (500 Galleons [deposited/value declared by A.P.W.B.D.])

Article D: Moneys, Gringotts Vault 711. (1,367,973 Galleons)

Total Value of Estate (as of 1 August, 1996): 1,448,590 Galleons.

Disbursements:

[ ] Granger, Hermione: 50,000 Galleons.

[X] Hagrid, Rubeus: 10,000 Galleons. (Contacted, To be Signed by Owl, Allocated)

[X] Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (c/o MM): 100,000 Galleons. (Student Scholarships)

[X] Lupin, Remus: 100,000 Galleons; Articles A, B, & C, to be placed in Trust until Harry James Potter’s seventeenth birthday.

[X] Ministry of Magic (c/o AB): 10 Galleons.

[X] Order of the Phoenix (c/o MM): 10,000 Galleons. (Business Use Only)

[X] Tonks, Nymphadora: 75,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Arthur & Molly: 75,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Bill: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Charlie: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Fred: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, George: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Ginny: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Percy: 10,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley, Ron: 25,000 Galleons.

[ ] Weasley Wizard Wheezes: 5,000 Galleons. (Business Use Only)

===

[ ] Potter, Harry: Balance of Estate (currently 1,072,963 Galleons)

Harry watched for a few minutes as marks slowly appeared by the rest of the names on the list and his balance recalculated (not that he really cared about the amount; it was just interesting to watch).

Before they could sign, each of the Weasley children had to go and get their own vaults; Arthur and Molly were the last ones to sign, excluding Harry. By now, Hermione had returned to her seat; he could feel her watching him, waiting for him sign his name and make his promise. The time had come. He looked at the list one last time. Every name had a mark by it, except his; he was now down to (only) 857,963 Galleons.

As he looked at the list, he suddenly realized that there was something strange about his balance. Setting Sirius’s letter aside for a moment, he held the summary schedule out to Hermione.

“Does this make sense?” he whispered to her as quietly as he could; he hoped Darmok wouldn’t hear. The last thing he wanted was to make the goblins think he was accusing them of something.

Hermione started looking down the list of bequests. He trusted her not to say anything about what everyone else got. Since she’d never seemed to care how much money he had, he didn’t care if she saw how much he got either.

“Look at my balance,” Harry indicated, since it seemed she was still trying to figure out what he was concerned about.

“The value of the estate ends in a zero. All of the bequests end in zeros, so should my balance end in a zero also? It ends with a three. So doesn’t that mean there are at least seven Galleons missing?” he finished, keeping his voice as quiet as possible.

“Oh, I see,” Hermione said, now that she knew what she was looking for.

She looked over the numbers for a few moments. “No, here it is, Harry,” she said finally, pointing at the sheet. “Technically, the property, motorbike, and jewelry are going to Remus to be put into trust until you are seventeen. See? They’ve deducted those three items from your balance. Looks like all of that is entirely cash. That way, you don’t have to have your uncle’s signature,” Hermione explained.

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said gratefully. Maybe he needed to revise his earlier feelings about money: he understood it when it was a couple Galleons in his pocket, not when it was nearly a million and a half on paper.

If everything made sense to Hermione, then Harry trusted that everything was in order. He knew he had two things left to do; he did the easy one first and walked up to the table. Grabbing the inked quill, he signed his name on the letter.

As soon as the ink dried a few moments later, all of the signed portions of the letters, including his, refolded, and then stacked themselves up in front of Darmok. Taking the stack, he bid everyone a good day, told them they were welcome to remain in the conference room until the bank opened in half an hour, and then quietly left.

Wanting to delay the second thing he had to do, Harry decided to walk around the room for a bit and talk for a while. He knew Hermione would not let him leave the room without making his promise.

Remembering her smile, Harry first headed over to Madam Bones to ask her what she was going to do with her ten Galleons. As he walked up to her, the same smile as before appeared on her face.

“Well, I must confess, Harry, your godfather certainly did not disappoint me. I shall have to take a closer look at a couple things when I get back. Do you know, he even left the Ministry ten Galleons for us to go buy a compass and a map to help us find our own...? Well, I don’t think you need me to finish that sentence.”

She looked at Sirius’s letter one more time, and then led Harry to a quiet corner of the room. “Now, please forgive me for being so bold, but there is something that I must impress upon you. We will never be able to prove what Cornelius’s motivations were for pushing through his little foray into financial fine print.

“That said, considering the times we are in, I feel that, temporarily, this may be for the best. I would feel better knowing that unclaimed finances are floating around the Ministry, rather than into the hands of Death Eaters. Money rarely stays idle for long, especially when it’s unclaimed.

“If there is one thing government is good for, it’s bureaucracy,” she said with a hint of a smile. “We may not be able to stop all Death Eater financing, but at least we can tie up unclaimed money in so much red tape that it’s as good as useless to them. Now, to my point. While I like the idea of keeping money out of You-Know-Who’s hands, I’d much rather it go to wherever it was supposed to in the first place. Please, Harry, make arrangements should that time ever come to keep your money in the right hands.”

Harry nodded slightly, still not liking the idea of having to do something like that any more than he did when Sirius told him.

Madam Bones nodded. “Good man,” she praised him, and then led him back towards everyone else. Once she had rejoined her Auror escorts and indicated to them that she was ready to leave, she turned to Harry again.

“Care to make a wager, Mr. Potter, as to whether Mrs. Malfoy will be outside the bank, waiting for me?” Harry looked at her curiously. “She stopped by my office first thing this morning. She said it was vital that I attend her husband’s hearing today at Azkaban. No, it’s not that kind of hearing,” she assured him at seeing the worried look on his face.

“He requested a meeting this afternoon, claiming he had valuable information he was willing to offer freely as a sign of good faith, and with the hope that certain accommodations... at least be considered.” Madam Bones’ level of belief in Lucius’s sincerity was readily evident.

“Actually, I’m quite glad I came here this morning. It gave me a ready excuse to avoid the journey out to Azkaban. I’d already rescheduled one of my normal morning meetings to this afternoon, at the same time as his hearing. Had I refused for no reason, she might have tried to make an issue of it. You know as well as I the likelihood of Lucius betraying... Voldemort...” she said, wincing. Apparently, the Headmaster was trying to get her to use his name as well.

“We know he’s not likely to betray his master for a cell with a better view and a more comfortable bed. Fortunately my successor, Rufus, is going out there today anyway to supervise the processing of eight new prisoners. I asked him to pay Lucius a visit and notify me if he seemed genuine. Needless to say, I don’t expect to hear from him today,” she finished with a knowing smile.

“If that is all, Harry, I will bid you good day then. I do have a small amount of paperwork awaiting my return.” Halfway to the door, she snapped her fingers and suddenly turned around.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry. I forgot about your awards this morning. I could have brought them with me and given them to all of you today,” Madam Bones explained, looking regretful.

“No worries, Minister,” Harry replied shaking his head as he smiled. “I’ve never been one to accept praise eagerly.”

“Maybe,” Amelia replied thoughtfully, “but sometimes it’s more important that praise be given than it is for it to be accepted. Unfortunately, for me to give that praise, you’re going to have to accept it.” Harry thought about what she said then nodded finally.

“Good. Just stop by the Ministry when you have some free time and we’ll have you properly cited. Alas, this is more of desk job than my previous, so I don’t get out much anymore. If I happen to be in a meeting when you stop by, just leave a note with my assistant, wander around for a while, and they’ll call you when I’m free. You shouldn’t have to wait too long. I try to keep meetings as short as they’re productive,” she explained.

Harry had to think about that one for a few moments. By the time he figured out what she meant, the Minister and her escorts were already out the door. Turning back to the group, he noticed his Head of House approaching him with several pieces of parchment.

“Mr. Potter, I still have not received your completed timetable,” she greeted him, cutting right to the chase.

“I know, Professor. I forgot,” Harry admitted.

“Not an auspicious beginning for a new prefect,” she admonished him.

“No, Professor,” he agreed. Part of him actually felt relieved by this. While the smiling, friendly Head of House routine was nice during her earlier visit and his party, this was the professor he was used to.

“You do realize that the amount of homework assigned will not lessen just because you were late in selecting your classes?” she asked.

“Yes, Professor,” he replied.

Professor McGonagall stood for a moment, scrutinizing him until he felt sufficiently guilty.

“Very well,” she replied, then handed him the top piece of parchment of the stack she’d been carrying. It was a duplicate of his timetable. The way she remained standing in front of him, looking at him, clearly indicated that he was to complete it before he left. After nodding, he went and sat down at the table while she went to talk with the Weasleys, presumably about Ron’s O.W.L.s and classes.

Harry stared at his timetable for several minutes, hoping it would magically fill itself in. All N.E.W.T. level classes were double classes. So, assuming he took the required classes to become an Auror, that meant double periods of Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and of course, Potions. Joy!

The only problem was that he was still left with several openings. Harry considered his options. He was none too thrilled with the idea of more Care of Magical Creatures. One year of Blast-Ended Skrewts was more than enough, thank you very much. And besides, what Harry enjoyed most about the class was Hagrid, certainly not his latest “Isn’ it beau’iful?” find. There’d be plenty of time to spend with Hagrid outside of class, wouldn’t there?

As other thoughts of fourth year swirled around his mind, he suddenly realized he could take Herbology. His “E” was enough to qualify him for that class. Remembering his run-in with gillyweed that year, the fact that he hadn’t known anything about it was enough to cause him to write it down. One down, Harry thought to himself.

The thought that popped into his mind next surprised even himself. What about Divination?

Now that there was a real prophecy hanging over his head, Harry decided he ought not to be so dismissive of the subject. Besides, with Firenze expected to be sharing the teaching responsibilities with Professor Trelawney (much to the delight of many of the female students), he supposed that it could only be an improvement over his first three years of the subject. He smiled as he suddenly had a vision of Ron’s tea leaves spelling out die, Ron, die, as Ron had once joked.

The only problem with that however was his abysmal O.W.L. score. No N.E.W.T. class would accept a “P.” If he really wanted to take Divination, he’d have to retake the O.W.L. class. His only consolation for that possibility was that if he did, he at least would not be in a class with a bunch of fifth years. O.W.L. classes for sixth and seventh year students were separate from the fifth year O.W.L. classes.

“It’s quite simple really. Think of it like this,” Harry remembered Hermione explaining about class selections that day their O.W.L.s arrived. “Getting your fifth year O.W.L. is like graduating from Muggle high school. It’s the big push for everyone to do. N.E.W.T.s, on the other hand, are like a university major subject: it’s in relation to what you expect your career to be.

“An O.W.L. class in your sixth or seventh year is like a university minor subject. It’s thought of as supplementing or rounding out your N.E.W.T.s. Not entirely accurate mind you, but a close enough analogy.

“For one thing, an O.W.L.’s an O.W.L. regardless of what year you get it. The only difference is that since so much emphasis is placed on ‘getting your fifth year O.W.L.s,’ they keep those classes fifth-year only. Since there are fewer students in six-seven O.W.L.s, they allow sixth years and seventh years to take them together... though... I suppose that’s obvious.” Harry smiled as he remembered the little embarrassed smile on her face as she admitted the redundancy in her explanation.

And now that he thought about it, he was quite sure Professor McGonagall had said the exact same thing sometime at the end of last year when she discussed their impending O.W.L. exams and the procedures for the beginning of sixth year. For some reason though, it didn’t make sense until Hermione explained it. Probably ‘cause I was actually paying attention to Hermione, Harry thought to himself.

So... did he want to take Divination again? More trips into the forest-classroom, listening to Firenze downplaying his own predictions? More reading tea leaves and making dream charts? NO! Harry quickly decided as soon as “dream charts” entered his mind, even though he usually made them up anyway. He was none too eager to think about his dreams at the moment.

Now that that had returned to the forefront of his mind, another possibility suddenly occurred to him. It was a complete unknown to him, but the way it had been described, it couldn’t have been that bad. Could it? While it had many applications, only a few of which involved divining the future, it certainly seemed better than staring at a crystal ball. Besides, if it got to be too much, he was certain he’d be able to find a tutor.

And so, with that and a small (okay, fine, LARGE) amount of trepidation, Harry re-inked the quill and wrote down his selection: O.W.L. Arithmancy. Whatever ended up happening, he was certain his feelings about it would not be ambivalent: he would love it or hate it. He’d find out in a month.

Since the Arithmancy class was O.W.L. level, it was also a double period; this left him with one free period first thing in the morning (YES! Harry thought to himself) and one free period immediately after lunch. There was no point (he saw) in taking Muggle Studies. He didn’t want to take N.E.W.T. Care of Magical Creatures, and he was excluded from the N.E.W.T. Astronomy, History of Magic, and Divination classes.

So, short of retaking one of those O.W.L. classes, which he didn’t want to do unless forced (to fill the free periods) he realized that there wasn’t much else he could take. Once Professor McGonagall had finished with Ron, Harry nodded to her, asking her to come over; he handed her his timetable.

“I think this is everything I can take, Professor,” Harry said, trying to steer her away from retaking some of his classes.

Professor McGonagall examined his schedule. “Arithmancy?” she asked with a doubtful look on her face.

Trying to think of a prophecy and not a tutor, Harry replied, “Well, it was that or Divination.” McGonagall’s opinion of Divination was evident as soon as he said the word. “You do know about the prophecy, don’t you?” he added quietly.

“I know there is, or was, a prophecy, yes,” she replied, her voice equally low. Her expression then... became less stern. “I must confess... I am pleased to see you taking an active role in dealing with this newest... piece to your puzzle. While I am dubious of Divination, I do know prophecies are real, so if this helps you at all, then so be it.”

His Head of House continued to examine his schedule. “Well, considering your O.W.L. results, about the only other thing you could’ve taken was Care of Magical Creatures, but that is at the same time as Arithmancy.”

Oh yeah! Harry remembered. He doubted Professor McGonagall would give him a Time Turner... not that he wanted one.

“And I see little point in you taking Muggle Studies,” she continued. “Yes, I think this is about everything you can take this year.

“Since you now have prefect duties this year, I trust you will consider taking advantage of your free periods for your homework,” she said, looking at him pointedly.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied. He would... consider it.

“Very well, Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall put the last two pieces of parchment she was still carrying on top of his timetable, then tapped the whole stack with her wand. He could see the bottom sheet glow green where his newly selected classes filled themselves into his timetable. Once the glow died, she handed him all three sheets. The top two turned out to be his Hogwarts letter and book list and homework assignments.

“Good day, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall wished him, and then left the conference room. Harry slowly turned and headed over to where Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were. The remaining Weasleys had joined Lupin and Tonks with Dan and Emma on the other side of the room.

No one really seemed to want to talk about Sirius, though it was obvious he was on all of their minds. They ended up talking mostly about Fred and George’s shop, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. That topic, however, was to soon dry up since it seemed pointless to talk about their latest creations without being able to show them, especially with their shop only right up the street.

Finally, right before the conversation ended, Ron pulled out his newly obtained vault key and started fiddling with it absently. “I wonder how much it would cost to buy Honeydukes...” he mused aloud.

“Thinking of going into business already?” Fred asked his younger brother, actually looking half-impressed.

“Are you kidding?” Ron asked, stunned. “No, for all their candy, of course! Haven’t you been paying attention all these years?”

“You’re not seriously going to take the money Sirius left you and use it to stuff your face and buy a new Firebolt, are you?” Hermione asked him disbelievingly.

Ron started chuckling. “Seriously, the money Sirius left me,” he mimicked back. “What’s the point of having all this money if you’re not going to spend it? A Firebolt?! Didn’t think about that!” Ron stood for a moment and thought about it with a dreamy look on his face.

“Oh come on, Hermione! Don’t tell me you’re not going to go out and buy about a million books with yours! Oh yeah, how much did you get, anyway?” he asked eagerly.

“What I got is none of your business, Ronald!”

Ron leaned towards Harry and spoke in a whisper that was loud enough for the six of them to hear. “Guess she only got ten thousand too.”

For the briefest of moments, Harry thought that Hermione looked as though she was about to tell Ron exactly how much Sirius left to her. He knew Ron would love that.

“Believe it or not, but I won’t be going out and buying ‘about a million books,’” she said acidly. “I might buy one or two, however.” Ron laughed in victory.

“And then,” she continued, doing her best to ignore the laugh, “I’ll repay my father for Harry’s present and—”

“Your dad bought Harry’s present?” Ron interrupted in shock.

“Of course he did,” Hermione retorted. “When we were at the store, I didn’t have enough money with me, so he paid for it, then. And now, I’m repaying him. It was my present, after all. And then, the rest stays in my vault until I need it.”

“Well... I need some Chocolate Frogs,” Ron replied resolutely.

“Money like this doesn’t come along everyday, you know. Spend your money however you want, Ron. It’s yours.”

Ron’s earlier look of victory was fast fading. Harry had the impression that Ron no longer felt that he came out on top of that little exchange. Then again, how often did he?

“Well,” Ron said lamely, his mood now thoroughly dampened, “now that we have our book lists, I suppose we ought to go buy our books. At least get that over with. Though, just because we buy our books, doesn’t mean we need to do our homework, does it?” he asked Harry with a wink as his spirits picked back up again.

“Oh, honestly Ronald,” Hermione interjected exasperatedly. “It wouldn’t kill you, you know, to get your homework done early for a change. That way, once you’re done, you’ll have the rest of the holiday free to do whatever you want... with no thought of homework until school starts.”

Secretly, Harry had to agree with Hermione’s reasoning. He still disliked homework as much as ever, but having actually gotten it done early, for once, the idea of a free holiday with... all three Grangers... was very appealing. He doubted Ron would believe him, but at least he didn’t have to find out.

“Oh, honestly Hermione,” Ron mimicked back, sounding annoyed at the mere mention of homework with an entire month of holiday remaining, “it probably wouldn’t kill me, but why take that chance?” he asked rather smugly. “No offense, but just because Harry is trapped there, it doesn’t mean I am too. I’m sure I’ll manage perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“‘Trapped?’ ‘Trapped?’ Is that what you think?” Harry could see Hermione’s ire quickly step up several levels. She looked quite upset, even by her standards. “Just because YOU—”

“Okay, okay!” Harry interrupted, stepping between them. “Boy, look at the time,” he said as he grabbed Hermione by the arms and quickly led her away from Ron. “I think we ought to be heading down to the vaults so we can buy our books and then visit Fred and George’s shop. Mr. and Mrs. Granger?” Harry called to get their attention, “I think I still owe you some money from earlier.”

Dan and Emma, seeing Harry dragging Hermione away from Ron, immediately cottoned on. “Ah, yes, of course, Harry,” Dan replied. “Nice to talk to you again Arthur,” he said very quickly as he and Emma walked hurriedly towards the door. “If we run into you in the bookstore, remind me to tell you about answering machines.” And as quickly as that, Harry and the Grangers were gone.

Back in the conference room, Ginny turned to Ron and smacked him on the arm as the remaining Weasleys and Tonks and Lupin came over.

“Brilliant, Ronald!” Ginny chastised him. “I don’t know how you ever expect her to fancy you if you keep doing stupid things like that!”

Ron’s ears turned slightly red. “I don’t know where you get ideas like that,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh, come on, ickle Ronniekins,” Fred goaded him. “It isn’t like subtlety is one of your strong suits.”

“Okay fine,” Ron admitted, “maybe, at one point, I thought I fancied her, but not anymore. Besides, I think I prefer good looking blondes,” he said with an odd smile and a slightly far away look.

“Ooooo,” Fred and George both teased as Bill playfully punched him on the arm.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” Ron asked as he rubbed his arm. “I wasn’t talking about Fleur,” he said defensively.

“Yeah right,” Ginny retorted. Suddenly, she, Fred, and George all quickly looked at each other. Just as she was about to open her mouth, Ginny instead cast a wicked smile at her twin brothers. All three silently agreed to not say anything for now, saving it for a more... opportune moment. Ron, of course, noticed none of this.

* * *

As he continued to lead Hermione through the lobby of the bank over to the tellers, Harry wondered slightly why that little “discussion” had escalated so quickly. Feeling it not the best time to ask her, he decided to allow his curiosity to remain unsatisfied for the moment. Before walking up to one of the tellers, he turned to Dan.

“How much do I owe you for clothes and food and stuff?” he asked.

“Well, as for food, you’re our guest, so that’s covered. As for ‘clothes and stuff,’ here you go.” Dan retrieved from his wallet three sales receipts from the department store and home improvement store. “I knew you’d insist on paying every penny, so I kept these for you.”

Harry blinked when he saw the receipts for his clothes, shoes, and Neville’s birthday present: together, they were nearly £150. He knew he could easily afford it; he was just surprised it was so much. Then again, six shirts, four pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts (which he still hadn’t worn yet), one eight-pack of socks, two three-packs of underwear, two pairs of shoes, and one Venus Flytrap tended to add up rather quickly.

“Do you mind if I round this up to an even one-fifty?” Harry asked Dan. “It makes the conversion a little easier.” Dan shook his head to indicate he didn’t mind. “Do you want to come see the vaults? It’s quite a ride,” he offered eagerly.

“No, I think they’d prefer to stay here,” Hermione answered for her parents. Harry looked at her questioningly. She lowered her voice. “Dad tends to get motion sick sometimes.” Not low enough, obviously.

“I heard that!” Dan replied. Emma grinned and turned to her husband.

“Do you want to go down?” she asked him knowingly.

Dan acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “I have decided that we shall remain here,” he said proudly and confidently.

“Uh huh,” Hermione replied. She and Harry then walked over to one of the goblins to get a cart to take the ride down. Hermione knew all about the carts, but had never before ridden in one. She must have felt the breakneck speeds a little too much like flying for she held tightly onto Harry’s arm the entire way down to her new vault. Halfway there, she evidently tired of muttering how much she didn’t like it, for she stopped and actually opened her eyes.

On the way down, Harry caught sight of the level at which they’d stopped a few years earlier. Mrs. Weasley had to empty out the family vault to pay for five children in school during second year. It was on one of the upper levels (and there was never an easy way to say it) where the smaller vaults were. They’d certainly need to be moved to a lower level this year.

During the past few weeks, Harry had come to realize that money was not a big issue for Hermione or her parents. They did have to work for their money, but they did “do okay,” as she put it. And being dentists, their livelihoods were secure.

That said, when the goblin attendant opened the door to Hermione’s new vault, number five hundred three, the sight of fifty thousand gold Galleons before her caught her by surprise slightly. Taking out her money bag, she grabbed enough to repay her father, cover her school supplies, and leave her with some pocket money for the rest of the holiday.

As the two of them climbed back into the cart, Hermione again clamped onto Harry’s arm. After breathing in deeply through her nose twice, she turned to the goblin operating the cart. “Let’s go,” she said, and gave Harry a weak smile.

“Just think of it like a roller coaster,” he suggested. She nodded and the cart started to move. By the end of the short ride, she too was screaming in excitement with Harry at the hairpin turns.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” he asked as they climbed out and walked up to vault six hundred eighty-seven. He took out his key and looked at it for a moment.

“Key please,” the goblin asked; Harry gave it to him (he never did get this goblin’s name).

After five full years of school, Harry was used to seeing stacks and stacks of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts piled in his vault. There was always enough in there that the piles hardly ever seemed to shrink. But when the door opened this time, even he was stunned.

It was obvious that his vault had been reorganized, either by goblin or magic (or goblin magic). His original inheritance from his parents—the mounds of gold, columns of silver, and heaps of bronze—was now all neatly stacked up on the right side of his vault. Almost all of the Sickles and Knuts had been converted into Galleons to free up space. The reason space was needed was on the other side of the vault.

The balance of the Black Estate had been moved into Harry’s vault, on the left side. While he’d never before counted his money, nor ever made any other attempt to quantify it, it was now patently obvious that the amount his parents left him was only slightly less than what Sirius did.

Piled high in neat stacks against the left wall were 857,963 gold Galleons. Harry walked up to the pile with his mouth open in unhidden shock. The coins were so perfectly stacked that he was actually afraid to touch them lest he knock them over. He walked around the three sides, just to make sure it was real.

The stacks of Galleons stood out more than two and-a-half feet deep from the wall, and were more than nine feet wide and almost six feet tall. Conveniently, the inheritance from his parents was the exact same size, except about six inches shorter.

At the very back of the vault between the two piles of coins stood a small wooden table. Sitting on the table was a beautiful wooden box and another letter, addressed to him. Recognizing the loopy handwriting immediately, he looked back to the box. He suddenly remembered something from the schedule on the will.

Article C: Sealed box containing non-itemized jewelry, Gringotts Vault 711. (500 Galleons [deposited/value declared by A.P.W.B.D.])

Harry returned his attention to the letter and opened it.

Dear Harry,

The night they learned they were marked for death, James and Lily asked that I do something very important for them: they asked that I keep this box, your mother’s jewelry box, safe.

They put in there several items that they desperately wanted you to have should the worst actually occur. It is a good thing they did. I am sorry to say that by the time I got out there, many of your family’s valuable items had already disappeared, presumably thanks to “souvenir” seekers. Suffice it to say, I am confident that the items your parents felt irreplaceable were kept safe. Everything else is excess.

When I went out there that fateful night, it took a while, but I finally found the box in your room. They’d hidden it in the dresser drawer containing all of your freshly laundered nappies, of all places.

I am writing this letter to you now during your fourth year to tell you about this box. I intended to add this letter to the contents of the box, however I confess that I have been unable to open it to do so. As such, I am certain it will be just fine on top of the box.

I have been in contact with Sirius. He has generously volunteered to take it into his possession so that he may give it to you when he feels the time is right. He has authorized me to have it deposited in his vault for safe keeping.

For nearly the past thirteen years, this box has sit upon a shelf in my private quarters, a reminder to me of the good friends I lost that night. So, tomorrow, it is with a slightly heavy heart that I head down to Gringotts and say goodbye to your parents one last time.

I do not know what you will find in here, though I do have some suspicions. Just know that your parents wanted you to have everything contained within. If I am right, I also know that they would have been honored if you ever chose to use anything that you find in here.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry set the letter down and looked at the box more closely. The sides and top were adorned with ornate decorations of sculpted wood. On the top of the box was a circular area in the design of the carvings. Engraved in that space were an intertwined “JP” and “LP.”

He could not see any seam where a lid or door might be. Knowing that things were not always as they appeared, he took hold of it and simply attempted to open it as if there was a lid. Nothing happened.

While on the one hand he was disappointed that he could not open it (for now), he was also slightly heartened since it suggested the contents were still secure inside. He looked at the letter one last time.

I am confident that the items your parents felt irreplaceable were kept safe. Everything else is excess.

He did feel a little better. Turning around, he found Hermione directly behind him, with her back to him. She was standing in front of his original stack of money, holding two Galleons, one in each hand. Lifting them up and down alternately, it looked as if she was trying to see if one was heavier than the other.

“What’re you doing?” Harry asked, amused and curious.

“Oh! I was just wondering... I mean, if all these Galleons were actually made of gold instead of just gold-colored metal... how much would it all weigh?”

Harry immediately began to laugh. “Oh Hermione! Have I ever told you how much I... how you never cease to amaze me? Here we are, standing in front of what, by all rights, is an immense fortune, and all you want to know much it would weigh if it was actually made of gold!”

Because he was laughing, Hermione had a slight smile on her face, but her expression was still guarded as if she wasn’t sure exactly how he meant it.

“Please, don’t ever change!” he finally said after a few more laughs. Walking past her, still clutching Dumbledore’s letter, he returned his attention to the nearly perfect rectangular pile of Galleons that was Sirius’s estate... now his. He just stared at the stack in disbelief: a foot and a half feet deep, four feet wide and six feet tall. He really didn’t care how many were there... but Holy Merlin! That was a lot of Galleons. And there was another stack almost as big directly behind him!

I wonder how much these’d all be worth if they WERE made of gold? he thought, now that Hermione had planted the idea in his mind. Though he didn’t know any specifics, he did know that the value of gold was such that if a Galleon coin was made of solid gold, it would be worth a whole lot more than five pounds. There’s no way the goblins would miss that little detail.

His pecuniary pondering was cut short by a gasp behind him.

“Oh... Harry... They’re beautiful!” Hermione whispered in awe. He quickly turned around to see Hermione standing in front of his mother’s jewelry box; she was blocking his view. Taking several great strides, he came to her side as rapidly as possible. Now standing next to her, he could see what was so beautiful.

His mother’s jewelry box was open. His mind in a jumble and not working at optimum performance, he reached over and shut the lid without even looking inside.

“What did you do?” he asked in shock. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize that they might have sounded harsher than he meant them. Hermione’s eyes suddenly widened in fear and regret.

“Oh, Harry. I’m SO sorry,” she said, wringing her hands in anxiety. “I didn’t realize what it was. Please... I wasn’t trying to snoop...”

Seeing how upset she was, Harry immediately took hold of her hands to calm her. “No, no, no, no,” he said very quickly, trying to explain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it literally. What did you do? I couldn’t open it when I was looking at it.”

Hermione seemed to calm down immediately; Harry let go of her hands. “When you stepped away from it, I was wondering what you were looking at. I just walked up to it and touched the box to see what it was. The lid suddenly appeared and... I opened it,” she admitted in guilt.

“I wasn’t really thinking about whether I should or not. It was just sort of a reflex, you know? A lid suddenly appears on a sealed box. You just have to open it. I guess I just figured that you would have said something if I wasn’t supposed to look at it. I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologized again.

“It’s okay,” he replied, trying to smile. “Hey... at least now it’s open and I can see what’s in there,” he said, looking at the box with a fair amount of excitement.

“What... is it?” Hermione asked tentatively, as she slowly reached toward the box again.

“My mother’s jewelry box,” Harry replied simply. Hermione immediately retracted her arm.

“I can’t... I shouldn’t,” she answered when he looked at her inquisitively. “It’s your mum’s.... you should open it.” He reached for the box... the lid was still there. Something was bothering him though.

“How come you were able to open it, but I couldn’t?” he asked her.

“You said it was your mother’s, right?” she asked uncertainly. “It’s a woman’s jewelry box. Since it was sealed, maybe you have to have a female to open it, to unseal it.” Hermione didn’t seem too confident about her theory; in fact she seemed rather uneasy about the whole thing.

Since it was the most reasonable answer he could hope to get, Harry accepted it, not wanting to question it any further. Taking hold of the lid, he lifted; it opened. He drew the box closer so he could he see it better.

Now, Harry would be the first to admit (if asked) that he knew hardly anything about jewelry. But, Hermione was right: the contents of the box were beautiful.

Resting on the top were two necklaces of different styles. One appeared to be made of silver and had a small emerald pendant on it. Knowing how many times he’d been told he had his mother’s eyes, he recognized the exact shade of green immediately: it was the same color as his eyes also. The other necklace was gold with a ruby pendant. Gryffindor colors, Harry suspected, or a ruby to compliment her hair.

Beneath the necklaces (the box contained stacking layers of lined boxes) were several pairs of earrings. Beneath them, in the bottom box, were two small velvet-covered boxes, one about twice the size of the other. Harry’s breathing stopped for a moment. He’d seen boxes like this on television advertisements enough times to know what was in them.

As he slowly reached for the box, he noticed that it was absolutely silent in the vault; Hermione was holding her breath too. Once he stared at the black velvet box sufficiently long enough, and feeling the need to breathe again, he finally opened it.

The glow of gold and sparkle of diamond greeted him. It was his mother’s engagement ring. A simple, but beautiful gold band with a single flawless diamond. In the larger box were two gold wedding bands.

Harry quickly began to feel awkward standing in front of the jewelry box. Looking at wedding rings with Hermione was just a little too much for him to take just yet. Sure, he wasn’t looking for a ring, but still... the whole situation just felt a little too... weighted.

He closed both ring boxes, and put them back in their shelf. As he did, he noticed that the shelf wasn’t sitting level, even though it was the bottom one. It was as if it was sitting on something. Lifting up the bottom shelf, he found a small envelope with his name on it in handwriting he did not recognize.

When he opened the sealed Muggle envelope, he found two brief notes inside along with a second sealed envelope.

Harry,

When we learned that we were running out of time, we wanted to make absolutely sure certain things were kept safe. If you are reading this, then I am relieved to know that they have. Obviously by now, you’ve already seen everything else in here. It our sincerest hope that if you ever find a use for anything in this box that you do so. It would make us so proud of you, our only son.

Love, Dad

My dearest son,

Your father deftly handled the contents of my jewelry box, so I wanted to tell you about this envelope. When Professor Dumbledore brought us the news, one of the things we did was send all of our family photographs to our friends, to keep them safe. All except for these. These are the few that we did not. Your father and I (with a smile) felt that you might not appreciate it if we sent these out. So we decided to leave them in here for you. It is our hope that they bring you a smile or two when you need it most.

Love forever,

Mum

Inside the second envelope he found two wizarding photographs. The first one was of what he assumed to be himself crawling on the floor, in a circle around his father and Sirius, chasing after a Golden Snitch (at very slow speed). Sirius and James were sitting on the floor, watching him. Sirius appeared to be in riotous laughter; James was not quite as amused.

The reason for their expressions was easy to determine: baby-Harry was wearing a infant girl’s dress... hopefully some joke on Sirius’s part. The loop of the photograph lasted long enough that he was able to make it in a complete circle around the two in the middle. While at first James appeared annoyed, by the time Harry made it all the way around, he was laughing also. It also appeared that whoever was taking the picture (Lily probably) started laughing as well, for the picture began to shake slightly.

The second photograph was of a slightly older Harry, naked as the day he was born, being given a bath by Lily. As shampoo suds clung to his head, he appeared to be giggling as Lily would slap the water in front of him, splashing him. Harry would then try to do the same back. As sixteen year-old Harry watched, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

Hermione’s voice decided for him. “What are they, Harry?”

He quickly stuffed the pictures back in the envelope. “Nothing,” he said lamely, his face turning slightly red. Hermione just looked at him.

“Okay, fine. They’re pictures. Baby pictures... of me,” he said. Hermione’s face softened as if it was the cutest thing she’d ever heard.

“Embarrassing baby pictures,” he clarified, hoping she’d get the hint that he didn’t intend on showing them to her.

“Oh,” she said, looking slightly amused. “I have some of those too. Bath time, or dinner time?” she asked knowingly.

“Bath time,” he gritted out. Hermione smirked.

“Mine are of my first run in with chocolate cake,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “I think they said I was two. I think there’s some law that says parents have to take embarrassing baby pictures.

“And there’s a couple of me in the bath too,” she admitted. “They’d tried so long to have a child when I finally came along that they decided to photograph everything. Everything.

“FORGET IT, HARRY!” Hermione said when she saw the look on his face. “You’re not seeing them... unless you show me yours.” Harry shook his head. “Didn’t think so,” she responded triumphantly. “Besides, I don’t even know where they are anymore.

“Mum and Dad hid them so that I wouldn’t ‘accidentally lose’ them,” she explained and then let out a little laugh. “They told me after second year that if ever I brought a boy home to them, that I be sure I really fancied him, since they would drag out all the baby photos and proceed to embarrass me to death.”

Harry put on a very innocent smile then pointed to himself. “Brought home as a boyfriend, Harry. As a boyfriend,” she said exasperatedly, thought she was still smiling.

“I know, I know. I was just kidding,” he replied. “Had to try.”

“You know, as much as I’m sure you’d love to carry those pictures around with you,” Hermione started, “you should probably leave them here. Technically, they’re not yours until you turn seventeen. I doubt we’d be chased out of here by a giant boulder like in Raiders of the Lost Ark if you did remove them, but still...” she said, trailing off.

“Raiders of the lost arc?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “Oh, Harry. I guess we have some more movie nights coming up for you.”

Harry replaced the two notes and photographs into the larger envelope, then put it back on the bottom of the box. He then replaced all of the boxes of jewelry, and closed the lid. As he did, he ran his hand across the sculpted lid. He had to do a double take when he looked at the engraving. Where it once was engraved with his parents’ initials, it was now engraved with “HJP.”

Sighing at the sight of his initials, and deciding he’d had enough of jewelry and magical boxes for one day, Harry returned to his original pile of money, grabbed enough to cover all of his expected expenses, then walked out of his vault with Hermione right behind him.

The ride back up to the lobby was not a fast as the ride down, but it was still enjoyable. On the way up, as they approached the level they’d stopped at earlier, Harry could see torch light flickering ahead. Sitting on the tracks in front of them was another goblin cart. When they neared it, the second cart merely jumped off the track and onto a small ledge on the opposite side as the vaults.

Looking towards the vaults, he saw eight open vaults, all side-by-side. When they finally reached them, he could see the entire Weasley family huddled around the first one; Arthur and Molly were standing inside the vault talking. The effect of the doorway directing the sound straight out, combined with the fact that they were moving allowed Harry to only hear a brief snippet of what was being said as they passed by.

“... this money, Ronald...” Molly lectured. It was enough to get a general idea of the conversation.

Once back in the lobby, Harry and Hermione looked to see where Dan and Emma were. They found them on one of the marble benches, trying to look as though they were actually comfortable sitting on the slab of calcium carbonate. They eagerly got up to join the two teenagers.

“Ready to go?” Emma asked.

“Almost,” Harry replied, looking over to the row of teller windows. The bank would open in about ten minutes; he wanted to get his Galleons exchanged as soon as possible. Since it was the first of the month, and a Friday no less, he expected the bank would be very busy today.

Walking up to the counter where a goblin had arrived for his shift early, Harry handed him fifty Galleons to convert to pound notes. That would be enough to cover his clothes and leave him with about one hundred pounds for the rest of the summer, in case he wanted to buy anything out in the Muggle world before they went back to school.

Since Galleon-pound exchange rates varied like any other currencies, the goblin returned with £253.12 (Gringotts kept the half penny). Hermione had to wait for Harry to finish his transaction before converting her Galleons as well. Upon seeing customers in the bank early, none of the other goblins appeared eager to approach their counters until ten o’clock actually arrived.

A few minutes later, the entourage of four was walking up the street, ready to do their shopping. Immediately upon turning a corner, they saw Lupin and Tonks sitting at an outside table in front of a restaurant, enjoying a late breakfast (or early lunch).

“Professor. Tonks,” Harry called them. Tonks and Lupin turned to see who’d called their names.

“Wotcher Harry, Hermione!” Tonks greeted them.

“Hello, Miss Granger. Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Remus greeted them as well, then turned his attention squarely to Harry.

“Harry, Harry, Harry. How many times must I tell you? I’m no longer your professor. Please, it’s just Remus.”

“Yes, Remus,” Harry replied reluctantly. “How are you doing?”

Harry’s former professor looked at him for a moment. “Better now. Earlier, not so.” His eyes then glanced towards his left slightly without turning his head. “But I’ve had some help. I’m getting through it... we’re getting through it.” Tonks, on Remus’s left (now that he was turned facing Harry), nodded solemnly in agreement.

Harry turned his attention to Tonks and began to grin. “Tripsy?” he asked. Tonks began to turn red again; he knew it had nothing to do with her Metamorphmagus abilities. She cast a warning glare at Remus when he began to smile.

“That was Sirius’s nickname for me. He liked to give everyone nicknames. Where do you think Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs came from, Mr. Prongs, Jr.?” Harry shook his head. He also noticed that she’d managed to omit the fourth Marauder (and he didn’t care, either).

“Normally, he only used them for people he liked, but I guess he gave nicknames to his other cousins before they went their separate ways. I heard lots of... what did Professor Dumbledore call them... colorful metaphors? Anyway, I always heard lots of colorful metaphors attached to their names... Trixie and Cissy.”

Tonks, Lupin, and Harry looked at Emma when she suppressed a laugh. “‘Colorful metaphors.’ It’s from a movie,” she tried unsuccessfully to explain.

“I’ve never been to a movie,” Tonks said with a hint of regret. “I understand they’re quite popular with Muggles. Are they any good?” she asked Dan.

“Some of them are very good. Some of them... enhhh,” he said, making a face that indicated that some of them weren’t that good.

“I went to a couple movies years ago,” Lupin added suddenly, surprising everyone. “Back in the summer after sixth year, Lily asked all of us to come with her to see a movie. There was a very popular movie that had come out... May, I think. Her parents told her it was really good movie, but she couldn’t go see it until we got home. Petunia wouldn’t go with her, so she asked us to come.”

Remus chuckled a little. “Ol’ Peter didn’t care too much for the villain in the movie. Said he scared him... the man in the black suit with the breathing problem... what was his name... Dark Vader?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Darth Vader? You guys went to see Star Wars? In the theaters?” Remus nodded. “I wish I could’ve seen it on the big screen,” she added longingly. “What’d you think?”

“It was okay,” Remus said casually.

“Okay? Just okay?” Hermione replied, almost offended. Dan and Emma seemed to share her sentiment.

“What? I’d never seen any movies before. I had nothing to compare it to,” Remus defended. That didn’t seem to placate Hermione any. “Fine, it was the best movie I’d ever seen,” he offered. Hermione grudgingly accepted the answer.

“She asked us to go with her again when the second one came out. If Peter was scared of Darth Vader in the first one, he was terrified of him in the second one. Though... looking back, I suppose that he may have reminded him a bit much of Voldemort. Peter had already turned spy by then. But we didn’t know that at the time, of course. This was, mind you, when Lily was seven months pregnant with Harry.”

A fond look then appeared in Remus’s eyes. “That reminds me. Your mother was none too happy with you at the time, Harry. She said you kept kicking her all throughout the movie. Near the end of the movie, you managed to kick in the general vicinity of her bladder, so she had to get up to use the loo.

“While she was gone, we learned that that guy was that kid’s father. It was so funny. There was this collective gasp of shock throughout the entire cinema. Some guy down in the front row actually shouted out ‘No!’”

Dan let out a laugh. “That could’ve been me!” he admitted in embarrassment. Seeing the disbelieving looks on Remus, Harry, and Hermione’s faces, Dan sought to determine if this was a really scary coincidence. “You didn’t see it in London, did you?”

“No, we watched it in the cinema nearest Godric’s Hollow. Probably some other distraught individual,” Remus said smirking, then resumed his story. “When your mum came back, she leaned over and whispered to James, asking if she missed anything while she was gone.” Remus then began to laugh a little.

“Your father just turned to her, looking completely stunned,” he continued. “I guess he was surprised by it too. Before he could say anything though, someone behind us shushed Lily. James never did tell her what she missed until they got home.” He laughed again. “She made him take her back the very next day to see it again. Fortunately for you, Harry, you let her sit all the way through it the second time.”

“Way to go, Harry!” Hermione chastised him after swatting him on the arm.

“Don’t be so hard on him, dear,” Emma said to Hermione. “You started crying three times throughout the movie. Fortunately for you, dear,” she mimicked Remus, “that cinema had a crying room where your father and I could take you and finish watching the movie.”

Harry turned and looked at Hermione with a big grin on his face. Remus then turned to her as well. “That was a great movie,” he added with more enthusiasm. Tonks, smiling, glanced at her watch. A look of shock rapidly appeared on her face.

“Merlin’s beard! I was supposed to be back at work four minutes ago!” She quickly finished off the last few pieces of fruit on her plate and then stood up and walked towards the center of the street. Remus stood up also and followed her as well. Apparating out so close to objects was generally not a good habit to get into, in the off chance that the person might be bounced back by an anti-apparation field.

“Thanks for breakfast, Remus. I didn’t get to eat anything this morning before I left,” Tonks said as she smiled slightly and put her hand on his arm.

“I know, I was there,” he replied in a friendly voice. She stared at him for a moment, then cast an awkward glance towards Harry and Hermione. “See you later. Don’t forget about tomorrow,” she added quickly, then let go of his arm and apparated away.

Harry glanced quickly at Hermione with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything, Professor.”

“What?” Remus asked absently, now turning his attention to Harry. “No, of course not,” he replied, though he didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes.

“So what’re you doing tomorrow?” Harry asked in as innocent a voice as possible.

Remus still would not look him directly in the eye. “I’m just going out to buy some new clothes... now that I actually have some money to spend freely.” He then looked at the clocks in the window of the clock repair shop on the other side of the street.

“Well, I probably should be off as well. I’ll see you later, Harry. We have a few financial matters we need to discuss at some point... though there’s no rush right now. Good day, Miss Granger.” Remus then walked over to Dan and Emma and shook their hands.

“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. If I don’t see you before school starts, let me just say again that it was very nice to meet you.” Remus then turned and nodded to Harry, then apparated away.

“Nice man,” Emma said.

“Charming young woman,” Dan added.

“Are they... together?” Emma asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno,” he replied. “Nothing official, at least,” he added.

“The two of them seem to get along pretty well, though,” Hermione added. “That’s always a good sign.”

“Speaking of people getting along,” Harry added to her, “were you all right earlier? Your ‘discussion’ with Ron seemed to escalate a little faster than usual.”

“Of course, Harry,” she answered a little too quickly. “Nothing’s the matter. Just another Ron/Hermione moment,” she added defensively.

“Hey, now,” he said gently, putting his hand on her forearm. “I’ve been right in the middle of those moments for five years now. He said something that really bothered you. Don’t tell me he didn’t. I know you better than that.”

Hermione quickly glanced at her parents, who were busy admiring the clocks through the window of the building next to them.

“Do you really care about what Ron does with his money?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. “It’s not about the money, Harry. It’s not about the homework, either.” She paused for a moment, glancing at her parents again. “You don’t feel trapped at my house, do you? Me making you do your homework and wash the dishes and all. I know you said you felt it was like home... but you could’ve just been being polite. I didn’t really expect you to tell me if you were unhappy there.”

A worried look appeared on her face. “Please Harry, tell me the truth. Do you feel trapped at my house? We can still move you in with the Weasleys if it would be better.”

Harry could’ve laughed at the absurdity he felt at her statements, but he knew it would be taken wrong. He moved his hand from her forearm to her shoulder, then took hold of the other one to straighten her out and hold her still.

“Hermione, you of all people should know what it means to me to call a place a home. But let me just say it again to be absolutely clear: these past few weeks have been the best of my life. Period. No questions asked. I was trapped at the Dursleys. Now I feel as free as I could ever hope to be.”

A relieved smile replaced the fear on Hermione’s face. “You know, you never did make your promise to me,” she said softly, still smiling. “The one Sirius told me to expect.”

Remembering what Sirius wrote, what he asked of him, even the photograph of him laughing at baby-Harry crawling around in a dress, Harry’s eyes began to warm up slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment as he replayed some of the words of the letter in his mind, watched the photograph again.

The act of closing his eyelids concentrated all the moisture that had begun to accumulate. As a result, when he reopened them, there was a single tear in the corner of each eye, waiting to fall. He gave a brave smile then finally spoke the words.

“I promise.”

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, repeating the question she’d asked on his first day at her house. Harry blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, concentrating the moisture even further.

“Yes,” he finally answered as one of the tears began to roll down the side of his face. Hermione reached up with her left hand and brushed it away with her thumb.

“I’m still sad that he’s gone, but I’m happier than I can ever remember being. I know that if I’d been stuck in Privet these last couple weeks, this’d probably be the worst day of my life. But instead... And I know that it’s all because of you. Thank you so much.”

Harry stood on the side of the street, looking at the most beautiful girl in the world. Her hand was still on the side of his face where she’d put it to brush away his tear. He found himself unconsciously leaning into it.

He sensed a strong feeling begin to well up inside of his chest. It was remarkable similar to that bubbly, giddy feeling he’d felt on his birthday, though much stronger in intensity. Hermione seemed to be getting closer. He was pretty sure he wasn’t moving, and he didn’t think that she was pulling him. It was simply as if the distance between them was decreasing on its own.

His eyes found themselves drawn to her eyes. There, he found the most beautiful color known to man: brown. He watched her. He watched her watch him.

His eyes were then drawn to her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He needed to kiss her again. Nothing else mattered. And so, for the second time in two days, Harry Potter went to kiss his best friend.

“Harry!” Ron shouted out behind him innocently after turning the corner.

“Ron!” Harry and Hermione both gasped, snapping out of their respective dazes and releasing each other.

“DAMN IT!” Emma cursed, startling everyone.

---

A/N: One of my readers, Evernight, has made what I think is a totally AWESOME photo-manip based on a scene from this story. Click the link to check it out! Please leave a kind word if you like it. It made my day when I saw it! THANK YOU, Evernight!!

http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=780

Here are a few more (the search function doesn't work yet...).

• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=785
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=702
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=674
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=659
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=654
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=500
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=471
• http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=472

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Never had it. Never will.

A/N: First and foremost, thanks go out to my beta MapleMountain. I SHALL resist the urge to start copying and pasting that in here each time.

Here you all go. I had an idea for how this chapter unfolds. I’m happy with the way it turned out. I hope you like it too. And on that note... Similarities to Book 6 are entirely intentional... AS ARE the differences.

This is yet another one of those chapters that became so long that I had to split it so that I could get something posted. It will end very suddenly, and Chapter 22 will start exactly where this leaves off. I’m sorry for that, but I didn’t want to delay this another week or two. But the flip side is that I have a good head start on 22, so it should come out much quicker than 21 did. Yay!

Finally, I keep forgetting to mention this. Here is a picture of the real Broomhill Road and King George’s Park, in case you were interested. The address numbers are fake, however... Just for fun. Credit Google Maps.

---

Chapter 21. Double Trouble: Misters Weasley & The Games Begin.

His eyes were then drawn to her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He needed to kiss her again. Nothing else mattered. And so, for the second time in two days, Harry Potter went to kiss his best friend.

“Harry!” Ron shouted out behind him innocently after turning the corner.

“Ron!” Harry and Hermione both gasped, snapping out of their respective dazes and releasing each other.

“DAMN IT!” Emma cursed, startling everyone.

The next words out of everyone’s mouths were lost as they all turned to look at Emma. The suddenness of Emma’s curse caused Harry and Hermione, whose bodies were still facing one another (though they’d let go of each other) to quickly turn their heads toward her. Nine Weasleys, one Potter, and one Granger all stared at Emma in concern. Whatever had caused such an outburst had to’ve been extremely important.

The other Granger, Dan, turned away from Emma and quickly walked over to the window of Quality Quidditch Supply, which was right behind him, next to the clock repair shop. He put his arms up against the glass, buried his head in them, and began to laugh uncontrollably. Emma, very red-faced and with her hand over her mouth, stood frozen facing Harry and Hermione.

“What’s the matter, Mum?” Hermione asked worriedly after casting an odd glance at her father. Emma slowly brought her hand down from her mouth, though it was clear she was still highly embarrassed.

“I... um... I...” Emma finally began to stutter. “I... just remembered... that... that I forgot-to-check-to-see-if-we-put-Crookshanks-out!” she said very quickly and in nearly a shout.

Granted, Harry had really only known Emma for a couple weeks now, but he’d never heard her use such language before. And judging by Dan’s reaction, which still seemed odd, he assumed that she didn’t all that often.

So, while he could understand why they’d want to put Crookshanks out while they were gone, it didn’t make any sense why it would cause her to swear. After all, Crookshanks was in all the time anyway. And besides, there was a litter box in the utility room.

Harry turned his head back to look at Hermione; she appeared quite suspicious of her mother. And Dan, who was still laughing, was no help at all. Trying to gauge Hermione’s reaction, since she didn’t seem want to question Emma’s outburst, Harry didn’t either. Besides, Emma’s own little colorful metaphor seemed to provide the perfect distraction away from what he’d almost done.

IDIOT! Brainless IDIOT! Harry cursed himself. You almost snogged Hermione! Out in the street! In front of everyone! What were you thinking?!

How beautiful she is, his reasonable voice answered. How perfect her lips are.

That was a rhetorical question!

Hermione turned her head to look back at Harry. She rolled her eyes as if to tell him to not even bother trying to figure out what that was all about.

Harry quickly shrugged his shoulders in agreement and then finally turned and faced the approaching red-headed family; Hermione turned also. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, who’d evidently accepted Emma’s explanation without a second thought, were now coming over to join them.

Ron walked up to them with a grin as if nothing unusual had just occurred with Emma. Though there was one thing he had noticed.

Coming right up to Harry, Ron looked at him curiously. Pointing at Hermione (but still looking at him), he started to open his mouth to ask a question. He stopped himself when he got a good look at Harry’s face.

Harry realized that his eyes were still slightly damp from the tears that Hermione had brushed away. With her beautiful, perfect, silken thumb...

“Oh. Never mind...” Ron mumbled awkwardly as he tried to look anywhere but directly at him. Harry quickly reached up to rub his eyes to banish the remaining moisture. He also used it as a moment to try to focus his mind to excise all thoughts of how wonderful it felt to have Hermione’s hand on his face.

“It’s okay, Ron,” Harry said quietly once he felt presentable again. Ron’s smile returned. It then faded again when Harry saw his shoulder move slightly. The look on Molly’s face suggested that she’d poked him to remind him of something.

“Oh yeah,” he said to himself. “I’m sorry for what I said back in Gringotts. I know you didn’t ask for all this to happen, so I shouldn’t have said you were trapped there.”

Ron’s apology, which seemed genuine though obviously prompted, had gone part of the way towards the evaporation of Harry’s annoyance with his friend... the one he didn’t fancy. There was however one detail that still stood in the way. And unfortunately, this part was much bigger than the first, as there was in his opinion, one slight problem with Ron’s apology.

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, Ron,” Harry said as neutrally as he could. He didn’t intend it to be rude or cutting, merely informative.

Ron was confused, Molly too. “It wasn’t my house that you implied was so bad that I was trapped there,” Harry explained, again in his informative voice. Ron thought about it for a couple seconds, then a look of understanding appeared; he nodded hesitantly. Finally, he turned to face Hermione.

“I’m sorry for implying that your house was so bad that Harry was trapped there,” Ron apologized to Hermione. Harry could see the tiniest of smiles on her face before she told Ron she accepted his apology. He couldn’t ever recall seeing her take pleasure from when Ron apologized. Then again, he couldn’t really recall Ron actually apologizing all that often.

When Ron looked back at him, Harry merely nodded his acceptance of Ron’s earlier misdirected apology. He accepted it, but he also wanted Hermione to literally have the last word on in, since he felt it was more important Ron apologize to her than to him.

So, with the questions of damnation and forgiveness addressed for the moment, the two entourages came together finally. While Ron was apologizing, a now-recovered Emma had dragged Dan (still teary-eyed from laughter) back to the group.

Already acquainted with the older Weasleys, Dan and Emma took several moments to properly introduce themselves to the remaining family members. Whether by coincidence or design, Ron was last. As he turned to him, Dan momentarily looked over Ron’s shoulder at Harry and gave him another one of his “watch this” looks.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Mr. Weasley,” Dan said with a calculating voice. Ron seemed to shrink back a bit; Fred and George were smirking. If Dan and Emma already knew so much about Harry before he even arrived, then they must have known as much, if not more, about Ron. Certainly Hermione had to have told them as much about her other friend with whom she’d had such spirited discussions.

Though Dan looked upset, Harry could tell he was rather enjoying this. Emma, however, appeared to be glaring daggers at Ron for some reason. Dan took one step forward; Ron took two steps back.

Ron gulped audibly. “Yes, sir,” he replied meekly.

“You are aware that Hermione is my only daughter?” Dan asked. Harry saw the slightest twitch in one of the muscles around his mouth that suggested a much larger struggle to repress a smile. Ron nodded.

“You are aware that I will fiercely protect her from anyone who is unkind to her?” Dan continued. Ron nodded again. Harry turned his head slightly towards Hermione. When he caught her eye, she raised her eyebrows then rolled her eyes as she smiled. She too recognized this.

Harry then quickly glanced at the remaining Weasleys off to his side. Since Ron was the last one to officially meet Dan and Emma, everyone else had stepped back after the handshakes and were all therefore behind Ron. They all must have been able to read the looks on Harry and Hermione’s faces for none of them seemed perturbed by this “introduction.”

“And do you know what my daughter has to say about you?” Dan asked, his voice becoming more weighted. This was almost at an end. Ron opened his mouth as if to answer, however Dan cut him off, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“She told us that you, Mr. Weasley, are one of her closest friends.” Dan then grinned broadly and put out his hand to shake. Ron still stood frozen, lacking most color in his face. He blinked several times as the words finally sunk in.

“You... were... you were just putting me on, weren’t you?” Ron finally asked as he hesitantly took Dan’s hand.

“Yeah,” Dan replied simply.

After shaking Dan’s hand, Ron heaved a sigh of relief. “Bloody hell, Harry. Did you have to go through that when you got there too?”

No, he just asked me if I’m the boy his daughter kissed at the end of fourth year, Harry thought to himself, amused. He was about to describe the little show Dan and Emma put on for his aunt and uncle when Dan beat him to the punch.

“Oh, please, Mr. Weasley. Harry here was practically in tears when I was finished with him on his first day there.” The way Dan said it, everyone began to chuckle slightly, assuming he was just taking the mickey out of Harry. The funny thing was that what Dan said was exactly true; Harry got a kick out of it too.

He caught glance of the knowing smiles on Dan and Emma’s faces... and Hermione’s too. Emma must have told her what she found so adorable that day.

“So? She told you all about me, huh?” Ron asked Dan, smirking. He turned and looked back at Ron.

“No, not all about you,” Dan replied, fully aware that Hermione could hear him. “She does mention you a couple times a year... usually whenever the two of you had a particularly... vigorous discussion, or whenever your wonderful friend Draco Malfoy decided to grace you with his presence.

“But the rest of her letters were her regular fare... what books she was reading, what her homework assignments were, what boys she secretly fancied... you know... the usual,” Dan said nonchalantly. Though her back was now currently to him as she faced her mother, Harry could see Hermione shake her head slightly as her shoulders dropped.

Ron began to laugh. “Yeah right. The first two, I believe,” he said as he walked back to join his family. The large group then started walking up Diagon Alley toward the stores they needed to visit today.

“Well, Weasleys, where shall we stop first?” Arthur asked as he rubbed his hands together eagerly. “And Harry and Hermione too, of course,” he quickly added. Harry looked up the street and saw that Madam Malkin’s was only a few doors away.

“Might as well start here and get our robes,” Harry said as he pointed at the sign on the shop. As he walked up to the door to the shop, he stopped suddenly with his hand outstretched for the handle.

“Ughh.” Harry grimaced as he let out a sigh of disgust. “Let’s come back and do this later. Malfoy and his mum are in there right now,” he explained as he looked through the window.

“He is?” Ron asked eagerly. “Come on, let’s go in and give him a proper greeting, now that we can do magic,” he suggested. Ginny, Fred, and George all seemed rather keen on the idea. Arthur, Molly, and Hermione, on the other hand, appeared as though they had other ideas.

Ordinarily, Harry would be the first in line to give Draco Malfoy a “proper greeting.” Today was a special day, however.

“Let’s not,” he counter-suggested. “He and his mum are probably in a right foul mood after what happened at Gringotts this morning. And as much as I don’t care how he feels, I am in a surprisingly good mood right now considering from where we’ve just come. That doesn’t mean however that I’m eager to hear him start badmouthing Sirius.”

Harry then looked back at Ron. “Besides, ‘proper greetings’ at school are called pranks. Out here, they’re called ‘assault.’”

Ron thought about it for a second then nodded in annoyed acceptance. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath.

“Ronald!” Molly admonished.

“What?” he complained. “Hermione’s mum gets to swear.”

Harry was pretty sure he’d rather face Voldemort again than be on the receiving end of the twin glares that both Molly and Emma shot Ron.

“Right then,” Arthur chimed in. “Fred and George’s it is,” he said as the group resumed walking. Harry and Hermione had been several steps ahead of the group when they walked up to the Madam Malkin’s shop door. When the decision was made, everyone else was still in the street. As a result, when Harry and Hermione left the doorway and rejoined them, they were now at the back of the group.

Harry listened as Fred and George described their newest and most proud creation: a product that doubled as both a wicked prank (the ‘prank’ pieces in the box) and a “dietary supplement” (the ‘antidote’ pieces, when used without a prank piece). Right as they were about to explain what was so hilarious about the name they chose, Harry felt Hermione latch onto his arm and pull herself quite close to him as they continued to walk. Dangerously, but wonderfully, close.

“Thanks,” she said to him quietly.

“For?” Harry asked just as quietly. Hermione appeared to speak softly so as to not draw attention from the Weasleys; Harry did so because he currently lacked the ability to speak loudly. He was too busy reminding himself that this was just a friendly gesture on her part.

“For getting Ron to apologize to me. I don’t mean to be rude, but I honestly can’t remember the last time he apologized to me. You know, actually said the words.” Hermione then let out a little sigh. “We usually just arrive at some mutual ceasefire agreement.

“I know he usually doesn’t intend to be mean, but still...” she said, trailing off. “It’s just nice to hear it once or twice every five years.” Harry glanced over at her and saw the little smirk on her face. The smirk then changed into a warm smile. “Thanks,” she repeated then pulled his arm against her side tightly for a moment.

“Yeah, well... I figure you’re worth an apology or two,” Harry said nonchalantly, then returned the smirk and tightened his arm around hers for a moment as well. A few seconds later, when she didn’t let go of his arm as he expected her to, he snuck a quick peek and saw that far away look on her face he recognized from whenever she was thinking about something. About five seconds later, he found out what.

“Or a dozen or so,” she added quietly, wearing the same satisfied grin that she usually wore immediately upon completing some bothersome (her word) Arithmancy calculation.

“A dozen what?” Harry asked, confused.

“Oh, I was just thinking... you’ve apologized to either me or my parents at least a dozen times since you moved in. And that’s not including whatever you might’ve said when I wasn’t around.”

“You’ve been counting the times I’ve apologized?” he asked in surprise.

“What? Oh no. I haven’t been counting them. I just remembered them,” Hermione explained. “I only now tried to count them. You apologized when I thought you were mad at me for opening the jewelry box. To Mum about the restriction on underage magic...”

“Hey, that shouldn’t count!” Harry playfully complained; Hermione just smiled as if to say “Too late!”

“You really remember all that?” he asked in wonder. “Oh, and sorry, no. I wasn’t complaining about the counting. Like with the jewelry box, I was just surprised.”

Hermione turned her head and looked up the street. Harry did as well and saw what had caught her attention: a large purple poster with flashing yellow letters that was sure to be Fred and George’s shop. There was a small crowd of eager kids (and their not so eager parents) waiting outside the shop. He also noticed that the two of them must have slowed while walking.

When they rejoined the entourage back at Madam Malkin’s, they were immediately behind them. Now they were a good five or six yards back. With everyone else at their destination beginning to look around to examine the twins’ shop (and the crowd), Hermione finally let go of Harry’s arm. Before stepping away from him to put some “normal walking distance” between them, she lowered her voice one last time.

“Oh, and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s one more.”

Harry let out a laugh.

A few moments later, they too reached number ninety-three, Diagon Alley. Fred and George had already made their way through the throngs of youngsters anxiously waiting to unload the pocket money their parents had given them this morning (yesterday was payday, after all). When the door unlatched, what ensued could best be described as a stampede (though avalanche was also close).

The group remained back a couple minutes as the hoard of midgets (as Ron eloquently described them) herded themselves into the store. While they waited, Harry was finally able to read the flashing poster. He began to laugh as he read all about U-No-Poo. Ron soon came over to join him.

“Absolutely brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Mum’s none too thrilled though. Afraid they’ll wake up dead one morning.”

“No they won’t!” Harry replied, still laughing. “Woe betide anyone who tries to break into their shop.”

Once the mob mentality had finally subsided, they all headed into the store. As he walked through the doorway, Harry glanced at the sign on the window of the door.

Weasley Wizard Wheezes will be opening late today, Friday, 1 August. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley shall return: NOW.

“Kinda like our clock,” George explained as he saw Harry examining the sign more closely.

“Nice robes,” Harry said, smirking, when he got a good look at the magenta robes George was wearing.

“Yeah well, with all the students running around this place, we had to have something that looks cool, and that stands out from everyone else,” George explained as he looked around to find his twin brother. He found him trying to shoo away all the boys and girls younger than sixteen, including Ginny, who were inquiring about their Patented Daydream Charms.

“Besides, I rather like they way they complement our hair. What with two handsome wizards like myself and Fred running this place, you have to have something that distracts from our natural beauty,” he said with a smirk. “The girls’ll all be coming in to ogle us and not our products.

“Speaking of ogling product, where’s Ron run off to?” George added to himself under his breath. Harry, Hermione, and George found Ron at the front counter, inspecting with delight the Reusable Hangman. He was prodding with his wand the tiny little wooden man as it ascended the gallows steps.

“Oy! Careful with your wand there, little bro. That does operate on magic, you know. You break it, you bought it!” George warned.

“Oh, and that reminds me,” he continued, “you’re welcome to take anything you want... as long as you pay for it!”

“What?!” Ron replied in shock, looking rather offended. “I’m family!”

“Yeah, and that’s why we aren’t charging you double! Besides, I thought you couldn’t wait to spend your money fast enough,” George retorted, as though he already knew how Ron would reply.

Ron’s ears turned slightly pink as he looked around to see where his mother was. He found her trying to block the view as Arthur was carefully examining the U-No-Poo with interest.

“No, I’m going to be well-mannered with my inheritance, and use it sparingly for my education, along with the occasional, responsible indulgence.”

George, looking quite satisfied, then turned to Harry. “And while we’re on the subject. You, Mr. Potter, have a one thousand Galleon store credit. All of our employees know, so just show them what you’re taking, flash ‘em your scar, and you’re all set.”

Harry started to open his mouth to complain about the ‘flash ‘em your scar’ bit. He knew that there was no way Fred and George would allow him to refuse repayment, so he decided there was no reason to argue that point.

Thinking Harry was about to do just that, George cut him off. “And don’t you even think about balking at our repayment of your original investment. Without it, this store wouldn’t exist. And now that I think about it, I’m going to take a page out of your dear godfather’s book. One word of objection to the store credit, and we’ll double it to two thousand.”

Those two are good, Harry thought to himself in amusement. “Agreed,” he said. He then decided he wanted to see if he could turn things around back on them. “Any objections if I allow Hermione and Ron to use that credit too?”

George pretended to consider it for a few moments. “It’s your money...” he said in a tone of voice that conveyed the impression that Harry was just wasting it. “But only if you’re present at the checkout counter with them.

“I’d hate to think that one of your friends,” George said with a weighted voice as he looked directly at Ron, “might try to take advantage of your generosity.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ron defended.

“I thought so,” George replied, grinning.

“Mr. Weasley?” a young witch with short blonde hair, also wearing magenta robes, asked. “There’s a customer looking for a joke cauldron. Mr. Weasley is still busy at the Daydreams, so he said to come ask you.”

“Okay, just a moment, Verity,” George replied as the blonde disappeared back behind the curtains she’d just come through.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked at each other with the same smile. “Mr. Weasley?” they all asked in unison.

George turned to Ron first. “Yeah, that’s right. That’s Mister Weasley to you.” He then turned to Harry and Hermione. “Shut it, you two,” he told them then headed into the stock room as well.

Hermione wandered off to find her parents and warn them to be careful about what they touched. When Ron quickly bored of the Muggle magic tricks, he pulled back a curtain that separated another room. Since it was not overflowing with energetic ten-year olds, it immediately appealed to Harry.

Of course, there was a reason it was not filled with energetic ten-year olds: there was hardly anything in there. The room had an unused look to it, as if it was there for overstock items, or just waiting for a future store expansion.

“What’re you...?” Fred began in nearly a shout, but then his voice dropped. “Oh, it’s you two. I don’t suppose you noticed this room was off limits—hence the curtain—did you?” Fred asked Ron.

“What are these?” Harry asked, trying to draw Fred’s attention, as he pointed to the unmarked hats on the shelf.

“Ah, this is something even you would appreciate, oh magnificent benefactor,” Fred said with flourish. Harry just rolled his eyes at him. A smile appeared on Fred’s face.

“Told you,” Ron said in undertone to his brother. Harry scowled at Ron. “Told you again,” Ron added.

When the magnificent benefactor turned his scowl to the grateful benefitter, Fred quickly decided to answer the question.

“These are our latest creation,” Fred explained. “Haven’t even got packaging designed for them yet.”

“Shield Hats!” George finished as he joined his brother. “We originally made them for a laugh, just like those Headless Hats last year. But after Fred and I tried to jinx each other about a dozen times, we decided they might have a more practical use as well. We were thinking about selling them to the Ministry.”

Fred and George glanced at each other; dreamy looks then appeared on their faces. “Government contracts,” they said in unison.

“Now that we got these down,” Fred then resumed, “we can apply the same effect to any other article of clothing... cloaks, gloves, and what have you.” He then looked around and lowered his voice. “We were also thinking about a more discreet line... rings, watches, and the like, for Aurors and higher-ups.

“The smaller items, naturally, would take a little more work,” George picked up, “so there’d be a slight premium in the price of course,” he said with a grin.

Just then, Hermione came marching into the room, dragging Dan behind her by the arm. He was steadfastly looking away, and appeared to be following rather reluctantly.

“Well?” she asked Fred and George in a huff.

“Well what?” Fred replied carefully. It was evident that she was not in a mood with which to be trifled.

“Tell them,” she said to her father. Dan finally turned his head; everyone was surprised to see him with an ugly black eye.

“I was looking at this telescope in the other room, and it...” Dan started to explain. While he appeared to be embarrassed more than upset, that was not the case with Hermione.

“Ah,” George said with a nervous chuckle. “You’d be surprised how often that happens around here.” Hermione did not appear surprised; George hurriedly took a small jar out of his pocket and handed it to Dan

“Just use this, and you’ll be as good as new shortly,” George explained. When Dan took the jar, Hermione grabbed hold of his arm for a moment to stop him. She fixed both of the twins with a very intent stare.

“It is safe, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Course it is,” Fred said bracingly as he glanced worriedly at his twin. Just as Dan opened the jar, Fred looked over his shoulder.

“I think I hear Verity. Coming!” he called out as he grabbed George’s arm and quickly led him back to the main sales floor. Harry smirked; he was quite certain he did NOT hear Verity.

About half an hour later, Ron and Harry worked their way up to the sales counter, Ron’s arms laden with merchandise.

“That’ll be three Galleons, nine Sickles, and one Knut please,” Verity, now working the counter, said to Ron even though she was clearly staring at Harry.

“I’m buying it,” Harry said. “Supposedly I have some store credit.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Potter,” Verity said with the slightest hint of a giggle; a faint pink tint was beginning to appear on her cheeks. “You have nine hundred ninety-six Galleons, seven Sickles, and twenty-eight Knuts remaining.” He watched as she pulled out a sheet of parchment from beneath the counter and began to write on it.

Harry Potter, 1/8/96, 3G 9S 1K

“Please sign here,” she said, pointing at the bottom of the parchment. After Harry signed it, she immediately tore the sheet in half. When she put the half with his signature into her pocket, he looked at her questioningly.

“This is for Misters Weasley, for their records,” Verity explained, holding up the half with the amount of Ron’s purchase. “The other half... is your autograph... for me,” she said as her giggle finally escaped. She then turned and retreated behind the curtains that lead to the stock room.

“Another empty-headed Harry Potter Fan Club member, no doubt,” Harry heard Hermione’s annoyed voice behind him. He turned around to find her standing between him and Ron, but a step or two behind them.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harry said, slightly impressed. Maybe it was because he was in such a good mood considering how well the reading of the will had gone, but Harry was rather amused at what Verity had done, the audacity of it. Or maybe it was because something about her reminded him of something else... something he just couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Ron said exasperatedly. If anything, he actually seemed a little jealous. Maybe something about Verity reminded Ron of something (or someone) too... though he was pretty sure he and Ron weren’t thinking about the same thing.

“What? Just because she’s blonde, it doesn’t mean she’s empty-headed,” Harry said. Now he knew what about her caught his attention. “Didn’t you see how quickly she added up your purchases and calculated my balance?”

At that moment, Harry was struck by what he thought to be a bit of brilliant inspiration.

“Besides,” he said, choosing his next words very carefully as he looked back to the curtain through which Verity had disappeared, “I think I rather like smart girls. It’s too bad for her,” he said as he turned around to face Hermione, “that I’ve never really had a thing for blondes.” He then intentionally looked at her hair for a split second before turning back to Ron.

He’d said that intentionally, hoping she was paying attention. He was nowhere near ready to actually tell her how he felt. He was hoping though that this “innocent” comment might catch her notice. If Hermione thought he liked smart girls (which he did... one especially...), maybe she’d somehow make some sort of association between him and her.

If she did, then maybe, just maybe she might at least give a first thought to the idea of him being more than just a friend. None of that would ever happen, he knew, if she never thought about him in that way. Sure, the whole idea of it all was a little mental, and a lot desperate. But wasn’t that the definition of “teenage male who fancies his best friend?”

For all of his mental desperations, he never saw the result of his effort for he knew he could not look at her just yet. It had to seem like something he’d just said “in passing.” She couldn’t know that he already fancied her.

Oh yeah, that makes a WHOLE lot of sense! his instinctual side observed sardonically. You want her to fancy you, but you’re afraid that she won’t... if she knows that you already fancy her?

It makes perfect sense, his reasonable side defended. You just have to think about it for a bit.

Though there was no response, Harry could feel the doubt begin to creep in.

It DOES make sense, he tried to tell himself.

“Harry...” Ron said awkwardly, still trying to hold onto everything he bought. “Do you... are there any bags around that I can put all this in?”

“Eyes bigger than your pockets?” Harry teased. He looked to the end of the counter and saw a stack of magenta-colored paper bags. Grabbing one, he opened it and set it on the counter in front of Ron. “There you go.”

Though the bag was clearly not big enough (on the outside) to hold even half of the items Ron bought, it readily continued to take them as he piled them in, with no signs of filling up. With only two items remaining, the bag suddenly started spitting items back out each time he tried to put either of them in, regardless of which one.

After his fifth unsuccessful attempt, Ron let out a growl of frustration. Just then, Verity returned to the sales counter.

“Difficulties?” she asked, casting a dubious look at Ron.

“Stupid... bloody... bag... won’t... take...” he complained, trying to stuff items into the bag between words. When he held one of the larger items in the bag with his hand, one of the smaller items that had previously remained in the bag now jumped out. Harry and Hermione were now watching with a fair amount of amusement.

“You have to pack the bag properly,” Verity informed him. “It won’t let you put items in there such that the ones on top might damage the ones beneath. You’ll need to repack it. Do you require... assistance?”

Ron stared at Verity open-jawed. He let his grip on the larger item slip; it jumped back out and the smaller item jumped back in. Harry put his hand over his mouth to suppress a laugh.

“No,” Ron gritted out. “I’m sure I can manage,” he said as he began taking everything out of the bag and setting it back on the counter.

“Of all the mental things to...” Ron began to mutter under his breath.

“Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley felt it very important that customers’ purchases did not damage themselves during their trip home, whether by Floo Powder, Portkey, broom, or even Muggle Underground. We can’t have your trick wand turning into a chicken before you get it home, now can we? They also felt however that they could not be held responsible if you dropped the bag or accidentally sat on it,” Verity explained seriously.

In other words, if YOU break it, you have to come back and buy a new one, Harry thought to himself with a grin.

The shopping bag now empty, Ron looked back up. “Well, why didn’t they just put a cushioning charm on the bag, or something?”

Verity quickly glanced at Harry and Hermione, who were still watching Ron with amusement. A tiny smile appeared on her face before she turned back to him.

“But then where would be the fun in that?” she asked before quickly disappearing behind the curtains again. Ron spluttered in frustration.

Not wanting to add to his consternation, Harry and Hermione decided to wander around the store a little more while Ron continued to struggle with the bag.

* * *

The wheels in back of Hermione’s mind were still spinning. They’d been that way since she read the letter Sirius wrote to her. But that, and the promise she’d made, had to be set aside for a moment due to bigger issues.

She did it again: she got carried away. But this time, there was no birthday-snog tradition to cover it up. Ever since that completely brainless moment when she almost kissed Harry, she’d been replaying it, trying to figure out what happened.

What really scared her more than anything else was the fact that her mind now seemed to be playing tricks on her. For the briefest of moments, she actually thought that Harry was going to kiss her too. And then her mother... well, that was another story all together.

At first, Hermione was afraid that something really was the matter. However, as soon as her mother had come up with that completely lame excuse about Crookshanks, she pieced it all together.

Her mother knew how she felt about Harry. They’d had two heart-to-heart talks about it. From the direction the talks had taken, it certainly seemed that she was amenable to the idea of the two of them getting together. And her mother also knew that she wasn’t going to push it until she felt Harry was ready to deal with girls chasing after him again.

And so there the two of them were in the middle of the street, obviously caught up in some moment. She’d asked him if he was all right, and he said yes. She could see a tear fall. She knew he never wanted her to see him cry. Without even thinking, she reached up and brushed it away. She hoped that once it was gone, somehow it would be as if it was never there in the first place.

But then for some reason, she left her hand there on his face. She felt him lean into it; she knew she didn’t imagine that. She was sure she was imagining it when she thought Harry was going to kiss her, but she hadn’t imagined that. And then right as she was about to cross the line, Ron showed up and interrupted, and her mother cursed.

Why else would she have cursed so loudly at the exact moment when Ron walked up? And more importantly, why else was she looking directly at them when it happened? Hermione remembered seeing both of her parents looking at the clocks only a minute earlier. There was no way her mother could have moved that quickly. Hermione’s head had snapped to her mother within a split second of the outburst. She had to have been watching them.

Her mother WANTED her to kiss Harry. It was the only possible explanation.

Hermione would definitely have to have a little chat with her mother when they got home.

But then, just a few moments ago, everything... all that she’d been worrying about, it all went out the window. Because for the first time that she could ever recall, she actually saw the slightest glimmer of hope that she might actually, some day, get together with Harry.

When Verity had conned Harry out of his autograph, he seemed impressed. And then he said it. It sounded like it just slipped out. It was entirely possible, in fact, that he hadn’t even realized what he was saying... but he said it nonetheless. He said that he “rather liked smart girls.”

Oh, how Hermione’s heart jumped up into her throat. She had no reason to doubt it. Cho Chang was a Ravenclaw, after all. As blind as Hermione felt that girl was about some things, she had to be smart. That was a given.

And then, after making some off-handed comment about not being particularly interested in blondes, she was absolutely certain he actually looked at her hair. It was only for a second.. but still... she was sure of it.

It was exactly the sort of thing she’d been looking for all these years. A crack in the door... something she could stick her foot in... something to get his attention. She wasn’t sure he’d realized he’d opened the door, but she was going to go for it.

He said he liked smart girls, and didn’t really have a thing for blondes.

She was a smart girl who wasn’t a blonde.

Yes, yes. She knew that he already knew she was a smart girl. But now, she had something to work with. Now, it was simply a matter of getting him to associate the “non-blonde smart girls” he said he liked with the non-blonde smart girl who was standing right next to him.

She saw an opening, and she was going to do whatever it took to get him to notice her... under the terms he’d just set out. Let the games begin, Hermione thought to herself.

* * *

Looking at all of the items displayed in the front window, something outside caught Harry’s attention. Draco Malfoy was walking up the street. Harry felt as though his wand was burning a hole in his pocket. He really would have loved to give Malfoy a “proper greeting” for barging his way into Gringotts this morning. But then he suddenly realized that something was missing... or more accurately, someone.

“Wonder where his mummy is?” Harry asked himself quietly, amused.

“Who?” Hermione asked behind him. Harry turned his head towards her.

“Malfoy. He’s heading up that way,” he said as he watched through the window. When the Slytherin moved out of the field of view of the window, Harry then walked over and stuck his head out the doorway. He watched as Draco walked up the street, nodding politely to a very nicely dressed couple, and ignoring everyone else, including several other very nicely dressed shoppers.

Hermione came up behind Harry; she put her hand on his back as she stood directly behind him (Harry felt a shiver run down his spine). She watched the despised blonde over Harry’s shoulder. Draco finally stopped a few moments later. Trying to appear casual, he looked around for a few moments. When none of the shoppers on the street were looking in his direction, he turned left and disappeared down the side street that wasn’t on the normal Diagon Alley tour.

“Big surprise,” Harry said to Hermione. “Knockturn Alley.”

“What do you think he’s doing?” she asked as she stepped away and removed her hand from his back.

“Knowing Malfoy, probably nothing good.” Harry turned around and looked at Hermione. “Either that or he’s looking for some non-pureblood repellant,” he said grinning.

“Hmm... I didn’t know they made eau de Malfoy,” Hermione said with a smirk. “Think we should see what he’s up to?”

Harry looked back to the site of Draco’s detour. Oh, how he’d love to catch him buying something illegal. Both Malfoys in Azkaban? But, as much as he hated him, he knew his school nemesis was too slick to get caught that easily. Besides...

“I doubt we could go meandering through all those Dark Arts stores asking, ‘Did you see a greasy git come through here?’” Harry said with a smile. “I mean, maybe if by some incredibly fortuitous happenstance I just happened to have my Invisibility Cloak with me, maybe a pair of Extendable Ears, then we could see what the ferret was doing. But, as it is...” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Besides,” Harry continued, looking back into the store at the front counter where Ron was still struggling with the shopping bag, “I really don’t think we should leave Ron unattended, do you?” He then nodded his head in Ron’s direction. When she saw Ron, she shook her head in agreement. She then turned back to Harry.

“A fortuitous happenstance?” she asked with a smile. “Those are mighty big words there, Harry.”

He chuckled slightly. “Yeah, Ron said I was spending too much time with you, that you were rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when you hang around smart girls. Besides, is that a bad thing?” she asked with a mock pout.

Harry grinned; she was paying attention. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell if she meant anything by it or not. It could have been a perfectly innocent thing to say. But at least now he knew that if he tried something similar again, she’d notice it.

“What? Hanging around smart girls, or hanging around you?” Harry asked teasingly. He laughed when she intentionally didn’t answer, which he knew she meant “same thing.”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know once I see my homework assignments,” he answered.

“Prat,” she teased, then gave him a shove as she led him back into the store. Harry and Hermione walked up to Ron, still at the sales counter. All of his items were now spread out over the table.

“I know there’s got to be a way to do this,” Ron said annoyed. “I’ve seen other customers walking out of here with their purchases in these bags.”

Harry’s mind wandered back to the grocery store in Wandsworth. “You know, Ron. Muggles our age usually get paid doing this,” he noted.

“I just know there’s got to be some trick to doing it!” Ron sighed in frustration. His particular choice of words, combined with what Verity had asked about where was the fun in it suddenly gave Harry an idea. They were in a joke shop, after all. If you couldn’t figure the bag out, then why try?

“Did you watch how the other sales people packed the bags?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “It’s so busy in here, I can’t see or hear across to the other side of the room.”

“Do you mind if I give it a try?” Harry asked.

“Knock yourself out,” Ron said eagerly, giving up. Harry gathered everything up into one big pile and set it next to the bag. He then looked at the magenta bag and thought for a moment. What was so blindingly obvious that you couldn’t see it if you weren’t looking for it?

“Pack!” he commanded the bag. All of the items then jumped into the bag in the proper order. Once the bag sealed itself, blinking words appeared on the bag.

You No 2?
Buy U-No-Poo

Harry grinned as he picked up the bag (which was now light as a feather) and handed it to Ron.

“There you go. All done!” Harry said, trying not to start laughing. He was certain, however, that he heard a cough-covered laugh behind him. Ron just stared at the magenta bag in his hands. He then looked up at Harry with a large question plastered across his face.

“We are in a joke shop, Ron,” Harry pointed out.

“I’ll kill Fred and George,” Ron muttered.

“Ready to go?” Harry asked his red-headed friend.

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough of this place for one day,” Ron agreed. “Let’s go find everyone and we can head to our next stop.” Harry waited outside while Ron and Hermione retrieved their families.

About five minutes later, the group had reassembled outside of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, minus Fred and George, of course. While he was not surprised to see Ron and Mr. Weasley coming out of the store with magenta bags, he was surprised to see Hermione with one. He was also glad to see that Ginny did not have one.

While he had been wandering around the store earlier, he came across Hermione and Ginny in front of a display of WonderWitch products. He’d become somewhat concerned when he heard Ginny asking Hermione whether or not she thought the love potions really worked.

Fortunately, he already knew how Hermione felt about love potions, so he was certain she’d be able to dissuade Ginny from the idea... if she ever had one (he hoped she didn’t). Either way, he was glad she was there to talk Ginny out of it, just in case.

Their next stop was Flourish and Blotts (Madam Malkin’s was in the opposite direction). As they walked there, Harry’s curiosity began to get the better of him.

“Wha’d’you buy?” he asked Hermione, pointing at the bag she was carrying.

“Nothing, actually,” she answered, causing Harry to stop walking for a moment. When he caught up with her, she looked to make sure her parents were still busy talking to Arthur and Molly.

“When I went to get them to leave, I found Mum and Dad rather excited, looking at a display near the counter. When I saw the picture on the box, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know why they were interested in them,” Hermione explained with a hint of annoyance.

“When they asked me if the Patented Daydream Charms were any good, I read the label. I made some off-handed comment about it being extraordinary magic. Fred overheard me and said I could have one for free. I figured it’d be rude to turn him down, so I took one,” Hermione admitted.

“You needed a magic bag just for that?” Harry teased.

Hermione smirked. “No, so I could get out the door. Remember when George yelled at that kid about pocketing anything?” Harry nodded. “Well, in this case, he also meant it literally. Let’s just say that if you try to take anything out the door, not in one of their bags, you’ll get introduced to some of their other creations... creations they don’t bestow upon paying customers.”

“He told you that?”

“Well, he had to seeing as how I complained that taking a bag for such a small item was rather wasteful,” Hermione explained. “So he told me just to give the empty bag to Ron or Ginny and they could reuse it later.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at Flourish and Blotts. While Harry, the Grangers, and Ron and Ginny went inside, the remaining five Weasleys decided to browse the other stores. Once in the store, Ron and Ginny went off to one part of the store while Harry followed the Grangers.

He knew that Ron and Ginny would want to be in and out as quickly as possible. Hermione, Dan, and Emma, on the other hand, would most likely want to... explore. He pulled out his booklist. N.E.W.T. classes: all new books this year.

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six by Miranda Goshawk.

Numerology and Grammatica by Hike Seshat

Confronting the Faceless by Remus Algeron

Plants You Didn’t Want to Know About by Flora Mahonia

Flesh-Eating Trees of the World by Abnoba Silva

Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage

Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

As he looked at his booklist, Harry suddenly realized something. “Hey, Hermione,” he called quietly. It wasn’t Madam Pince’s library, but still, it felt... unnatural to be loud in a book store.

He pointed at his booklist when she came over. “Do you think this means they’ve found a new Defense teacher this year already?”

“Possibly. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Binns are about the only three, I think, who always use the same...” Hermione’s voice trailed off as her eyes drifted one line up from where he was pointing.

“Harry?” she asked tentatively. “Why is Numerology and Grammatica on your booklist?”

“Oh!” he replied surprised. He never did mention that to her, did he? “Yeah... well I... erm... had three openings in my timetable, and I didn’t think Professor McGonagall would let me get away with that, so... erm... what-with-the-prophecy-and-all,” he said very quickly, and trying to cover it up with a good throat-clearing, “I... erm... decided to... give Arithmancy a shot.”

Harry hadn’t really given much thought to exactly how Hermione would react when she found out he was taking Arithmancy, but if he’d been forced to make a prediction, stunned silence probably wouldn’t have been his first guess.

“The prophecy? I thought it was destroyed. What does that have to do with anything?” she asked quickly when she regained her voice a few moments later.

Damn, Harry thought to himself. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her about the prophecy. But at least he had an excuse not to... this instant. The middle of Flourish and Blotts was not the place to do it, if he ever did. Evade... for the moment, he told himself.

“Well... prophecies are real, after all,” he replied carefully. “You said that part of Numerology dealt with making predictions based on studying numbers, right? I just figured that maybe I ought to give it another shot... especially now that I know that it’s for real. It’s gotta be better than trying to see through my Inner Eye, right?” he quipped.

Hermione let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, or gazing into a crystal ball.”

“Besides,” he admitted, “if it doesn’t work out, I can always drop it. It isn’t like I NEED to take it to be an Auror. I’m just trying something new. It’s about trying new things, right?”

Hermione’s glowing smile dimmed slightly when he mentioned dropping Arithmancy, though it did not fade entirely. “Don’t worry, Harry,” she told him. “I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s my favorite subject. And yes you’re right: it is about trying new things. Just give it a chance,” she exhorted.

“As for your book, you needn’t worry about that. You can have mine,” Hermione offered. “Plus, I still have all my notes from third, fourth, and fifth years. I have to buy a new book for the N.E.W.T. class anyway. Here, help me find it, would you? It’s called Spell By Number, by Raziel Metron.”

Five minutes later, Harry found Spell By Number (Hermione’s search had been distracted by her discovery of Magic, Stoichiomologically Speaking, Of Course). His gentle calling of her name going unnoticed, on a whim, he opened her N.E.W.T. Arithmancy book at random and looked at what was on the pages he saw.

What he found was an immensely complicated number chart on the left page with a truly evil-looking mathematical formula on the right page. It was evil looking because it was filled with ancient runes.

He’d done addition and subtraction and a little multiplication at his other school before Hogwarts. But this kind of math, if it could be called that, was way beyond that. It had ancient runes in it, after all! Immediately his eyes began to glaze over. He scanned the entire page, desperately looking for anything he might recognize.

He chuckled slightly in defeat when he realized that the only things he recognized were the actual numerals themselves, along with the word “Protego” above both the number chart and the formula.

“Oh, Merlin,” he moaned to himself in a whisper. “What exactly have I gotten myself into?” Suddenly, Hermione’s hand reached over and closed the book and took it out of his hands.

“Don’t look at that Harry. It’ll just scare you. You won’t be doing anything like this,” she assured him. “Remember, Nastily Exhausting level,” she said with a smile.

“Can you understand that?” he asked with both fear and wonder in his voice as he pointed at the book. Since it was a brand new book and had only ever been opened to that one place, when Hermione held it by the spine and let the front and back covers fall on their own, it opened right back to the same page Harry had found originally. Hermione studied the charts and formulas for a few moments.

“I’ll admit I don’t understand this entire formula, YET,” she added heavily with a sparkle in her eye. “But, basically, it’s an analysis of exactly how the Protego spell works,” she explained.

Harry let out a laugh. “Well, of course I knew it involved Pr... Wait. What? What do you mean ‘exactly how Protego works?’” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Hermione’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise that he seemed interested. She thought for a few moments on how to best put it into terms he’d understand.

“Well, you know how Protego can block some spells but not others?” she asked; Harry nodded. “And you know how one person’s shield can be stronger than other another’s?” Another nod. “Well, basically, this calculation shows exactly why that is.

“In this case, Protego, if you can convert the attacker’s spell into a number, and the defender’s shield into a number, then all you have to do is compare the two numbers. Whichever number is bigger, wins. If my jinx is stronger than your shield, I win. If your shield is stronger than my spell, you win.”

“Until you jinx me again,” Harry added with a grin.

“True,” Hermione smirked. “But, here’s the interesting part. How strong is your shield compared to my spell? If your shield is only marginally stronger, it will merely dissipate my spell and then collapse. But, if it’s significantly stronger, it can reflect my spell back to me. Then, I have to defend against my own spell.”

“Really?” Harry asked in amazement; Hermione nodded. “Do you think it would be helpful to know these kinds of things for the D.A.?” Hermione’s earlier glowing smile returned to full brightness.

“Definitely,” she readily agreed, then paused for a moment. “Kind of,” she added. Seeing the “please continue” look on Harry’s face, she did. “It would probably only be useful for you. Remember, this is all theoretical. It’s all numerical... all analysis. It just helps you understand how the spells actually function, how they interact with other spells.

“It will never take the place of actually going out and practicing the spells. You won’t have the luxury of asking a Death Eater to allow you to probe him with analysis spell, or get him to test fire his Cruciatus into a measuring crystal.

“The calculations can help you better understand how the magic actually works, and can even possibly help you devise a defense. But... in the end, it really just boils down to drawing your wand and putting your heart into whatever spell you’re casting. They’re just numbers, Harry. They don’t DO anything. They merely... measure what you are doing. Does that make sense?”

Harry seemed overwhelmed by the information, but in a good way. “I think so,” he said finally. “But that’s just the spell analysis part. There’s also the Numerology too, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “They’re simply different branches of Arithmancy... just like in math how you have different disciplines like algebra and geometry and calculus. At the O.W.L. level, you get a little bit of everything. N.E.W.T. level is primarily the spell analysis.

“I heard from last year’s Head Girl,” she continued, her excitement approaching flood stage, “that for the last part of seventh year, starting right after Easter midterm examinations, they even get into basic spell creation. Not enough to actually create your own spells, mind you,” she said, her disappointment evident, “but a basic overview of the theories and processes.”

“Somehow I doubt you’d let a little thing like that stop you from trying to learn how to make one,” Harry observed with a grin. A few moments later, he let out a small groan.

“I forgot about those... midterm examinations,” he said; Hermione just looked at him. “Yes, I know: N.E.W.T. years.” He then let out a laugh. “A basic overview... for two, two and a half months? To me, a basic overview is one lesson... maybe one whole week.”

Hermione just looked at him again. “Yes, I know: N.E.W.T. years,” Harry repeated.

“But, like I said, you won’t be doing that,” she reminded him. “At the O.W.L.—”

“Hermione?” Ginny interrupted as she came around a row of books. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized when she realized she’d just cut her off mid-sentence. “Got everything?”

Hermione turned around to face her friend as Ron came up too. “Huh? Oh yeah... I mean, no. So far we’ve only found my Arithmancy book. We got distracted. I was just explaining to Harry about N.E.W.T. Arithmancy.”

At the word “explaining,” Harry could see Ron’s brain disengage. The broom was flying, but there was no one holding the handle.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry,” Ginny teased Hermione. “Hurry up and get everything else, and then we can go find Mum and Dad, and then we start heading back towards Madam Malkin’s. I imagine Malfoy’s outta there by now.”

“He is,” Harry added absently, before he realized that they hadn’t shared that with anyone else. “I saw him walk by Fred and George’s while we were in there.”

“Good!” Ginny proclaimed. “I need to get some new dress robes this year, and I don’t need him there, hovering around, making smart-ass comments while we’re taking our clothes off. Then afterwards, I imagine these two...” she said as she looked at Ron. She swatted his arm when she too recognized the vacant look on his face. “I imagine these two will want to stop at Quality Quidditch Supply.”

“Hey!” Ron complained as he rubbed his arm. “And besides, who was it who kept borrowing my Quidditch Illustrated, reading the broom reviews? Hmm?”

Ginny ignored her brother. “Go help Harry find his books,” she ordered. Ron looked highly annoyed, but complied anyway as he did his best to ignore her. “Grab Hermione’s books too while you’re at it. I’ll help her with her other books. Then we can find her parents and get out of here.”

“Same as Harry’s,” Harry heard Hermione tell Ron.

Ron looked down at his own books in his hands. “Just go set them down on the counter,” Ginny said exasperatedly.

“So, mate. What books do you need?” Ron asked as he and Harry headed towards a different section of the bookstore.

“Charms, Defense, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration,” Harry replied.

“Brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Same as me. It’s gonna be so nice this year. We’ll have three free periods. One first thing in the morning, one after morning break, and one after lunch. Can’t believe McGonagall let me get away with that. ‘Course, she did try to get me to take Muggle Studies! Can you believe that?!

“I told her what’s the point when I have you and Hermione around, right?” Ron said with a grin. “She gave up pretty quickly after that. But, she did make me promise that I use one of those free periods for captain stuff... planning tryouts, game plans... you know... important things like that.

“She said she wasn’t ready to hand the Quidditch Cup back over to Snape again. Speaking of the greasy git,” Ron suddenly added as he pulled their new Potions book off the shelf.

One book, Harry noted. Without even looking back, Ron then headed in another direction. Harry grabbed a second copy.

Ron certainly seemed eager to leave the bookstore. He darted around the store, grabbing Harry’s books quickly as he went, since he’d just done this for himself a few minutes earlier. In a rush and never looking back, he never noticed Harry following behind him, picking up a second copy of each book.

About five minutes later, Ron had accumulated all of Harry’s new books and started looking for his sister and Hermione. He found them in the aisle between two fields of shelves. Since Harry was behind Ron and still between two rows of shelves, no one could see him when they were all in the aisle. Where Ron was standing, he was blocking Harry from moving out into the aisle.

“Great,” Ginny said. “Those Hermione’s?” she asked.

“Hermione’s?” Ron asked, confused. “No, these are Harry’s.”

“Ron!” Ginny complained. “I told you to get Hermione’s too. We were looking for her other books... you know, for her other classes... the ones you don’t take? And we were looking for her parents too!”

“But, you said...” Ron spluttered.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked impatiently.

“Right here, behind Ron, between the shelves,” Harry replied. When he turned around to look at Harry, Ron finally moved enough so that he was no longer blocking the way; Harry slipped through to join everyone in the aisle.

Before anyone could say anything, Harry handed Hermione the stack he’d been collecting. She added her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes books to them. Now in the aisle, he could see that Dan had rejoined them. He also noted that Dan’s black eye was almost completely healed.

“Mum’s in the back looking at Muggle Mathematics Through the Eyes of Wizards,” Hermione explained when she saw Harry looking around.

“Thank you, Harry,” Ginny said emphatically. “Nice to see one of you can follow instructions.”

“Well, let’s get these paid for so we can be on our way,” Harry said, hoping to interrupt whatever might come next. Ron and Ginny then headed for the sales counter to pick up their books, with Harry and Hermione right behind them.

“Thanks,” Hermione whispered to Harry as they followed the two youngest Weasleys.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back with a wink.

Everyone had to wait in line for a few minutes to purchase their books. Dan moved to near the front door to look at a couple other books that caught his eye. Evidently Hogwarts letters had come out already for there were other students in the store buying their books as well. They must have come out very recently, however, since there were only a few students in so far.

While still in line, Harry’s heart fell to his stomach when he heard a familiar voice drawl behind him.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the trash of wizarding world: Scarhead, the mudblood, and the weasels,” Draco said, his voice filled with loathing, though he clearly seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Bet you enjoyed that today, Potter,” Draco vented, “stealing my mother’s rightful inheritance.”

“The only thing I enjoyed about that,” Harry retorted, “was watching you be escorted from the building.” He watched for a moment as Draco stewed for a second or two. “You know, the thing I am most surprised about is the fact that I haven’t once heard you threaten anyone with your usual ‘Just wait until my father hears about this!’

“Tell me,” Harry goaded him, “where is dear old Dad? Oh, that’s right, he’s in Azkaban. Funny how those things work out like that.” Harry heard a couple snickers that he was sure came from Ron and Ginny. Draco’s attention then turned to Harry’s two red-headed friends.

With Draco’s attention now on Ron and Ginny, Harry noticed that the wizard that Draco had to’ve walked by to get to them was in fact Dan. Since Dan was wearing wizards’ robes and had been looking at a book, Draco must have paid no attention to him when he walked by him and not realized who it was. In fact, he doubted Draco even recognized Hermione’s father in the first place.

“It’s such a waste,” Draco sneered as Dan approached him quietly from behind, listening, “that such a large pureblood family with such potential would stoop to levels like this,” he said as he waved his hand towards Harry and Hermione. He then took a half step forward and made a show of smelling the air.

“For the love of Merlin, you even reek of your friends, Potter!” Draco said with a look of revolt. “Just some pampered half-blood prince with his pet mudblood and trained rodents.

“What’re you smirking at?” Draco spat at Hermione. With Dan now directly behind Draco, Hermione made no attempt to reply. “I asked you a question, mudblood! Maybe you need some obedience training.” He then quickly pulled his wand and pointed it at Hermione.

Before anyone could react, Dan immediately put his hand on Draco’s shoulder; his face immediately screwed up in extreme pain. Draco’s grip on his wand immediately loosened and his arm dropped slightly. Harry couldn’t really see what Dan was doing, but if anything, it looked like he was pressing his fingers into Draco’s shoulder.

“Listen carefully, you twitchy little ferret,” Dan breathed dangerously. “I may just be a Muggle, but I will defend my daughter with every ounce of strength in my being.” Draco winced again. “If I ever hear you insult her again, or any of her friends, I will show you exactly what us Muggles are capable of, even without magic.”

Harry saw Dan’s fingers move slightly. An even greater stab of pain appeared on Draco’s face as his arm fell and he dropped his wand.

“Do I make myself clear?” Dan asked. Though Draco refused to speak, he did at least nod. “Harry, please hand this young man back his wand. I do think he’s ready to leave.”

“Accio wand,” Harry called as he pointed his wand at Draco’s, instead of kneeling down to pick it up. Though Dan’s hand was still firmly attached to Draco’s shoulder, Harry didn’t trust himenough to put his head within reach of Draco’s foot.

He was also pleased to see a flicker of surprise appear on the young Slytherin’s face at his use of magic away from school. For all of Draco’s blustering, Harry would have been truly surprised if he’d actually attempted to do anything that would’ve violated the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, especially with the recent change in administration.

Harry turned his head slightly towards Hermione. She, Ron, and Ginny all drew their wands, but kept them lowered at the ready. Truth be told, Harry was pretty certain that holding a stack of books under their other arms would not enhance their abilities to cast spells.

He hoped however that Draco was in too much pain and too scared of the Muggle causing said pain to think that far ahead. His hopes were confirmed when Draco glanced anxiously at Ginny’s wand. Harry really wished he could’ve been there when she hexed him the previous school year.

Draco’s wand in hand, Harry looked back at Dan, who nodded. Harry returned Draco’s wand to him, business end first (so that if he wanted to try something, he’d need an extra second to turn it around and grab the handle).

“Good day, Mr. Malfoy,” Dan said sweetly and then released the Slytherin. Draco immediately spun on his heel and made a beeline for the door in as most a dignified manner as he could (but also as quickly as he could without actually running).

Right before heading out the door, Draco turned around for a moment to try to get a look at Dan’s face, but unfortunately Dan’s back was to him. Draco then cast them all the most deadly glare he could manage (which no one really found particularly threatening at the moment) before finally leaving and sulking back towards The Leaky Cauldron.

The half-dozen or so other Hogwarts students in the store (none Slytherin, obviously) let out a small cheer once Draco was gone and then turned back to their own business. After the three of them re-pocketed their wands, Ron turned to look at Harry incredulously.

“Do mine ears deceive me?” he asked.

“Doth mine,” Hermione corrected. “Doth mine.”

“What?” Ron asked.

“Never mind,” she replied with a sigh.

“Can you believe it? Malfoy actually called us your friends. Didn’t think the git knew what the word meant,” Ron said in amazement.

Harry suddenly recalled what the label of his cologne said. Something about how people who disliked him being angered by it since it reminded them of what he had but they didn’t.

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Harry mused aloud, getting all of their attentions. “It’s the cologne Ginny gave me for my birthday,” he tried to explain.

“You gave him cologne?” Ron asked Ginny, shocked.

“Well... yeah...” Ginny replied, slightly embarrassed.

“So that’s what I’ve been smelling,” Ron said suddenly, forgetting about Ginny as he put the two together. “That’s so cool, Harry! I didn’t know they made Quidditch cologne. I can’t explain it, but you smell like Quidditch. Wicked!”

A look of recognition then appeared on Hermione’s face. “So that’s what we smelled when we got in the car this morning. I could smell the field. I just figured it was the cool morning air carrying the smell of the lawns over from King George’s Park.”

“Actually, now that I think about it, it smelled more like a broom and a polishing kit,” Ron replied, slightly confused.

“Erm... no actually... it wasn’t a Quidditch cologne,” Harry said sheepishly, afraid to tell Ron what it really was. After explaining all about Exactly YOU Cologne, Ron and Hermione both looked terrified, Ginny appeared quite pleased (since he’d actually used her gift), and Dan just looked plain confused.

“It’s just inspired by a love potion, Ron,” Harry tried to explain. “It makes you smell whatever you associate with me... it doesn’t make you fancy me.” He quickly glanced at Hermione then looked back to Ron; she still looked slightly uneasy about it.

“Trust me, if someone did give me a love potion, I certainly wouldn’t use it on you, Ron,” he said with smirk. Ron looked relieved. Harry then looked back to Hermione and saw her worried look disappear as she recalled Harry’s suspicions about Fred and George’s testing procedures.

“So then you think Malfoy smelled the cologne...” she started.

“... and then thought of my friends... you guys. Maybe it made him mad because he doesn’t know what friendship means,” Harry finished. “I mean, honestly. Do you really think Crabbe and Goyle are his friends? Or do you think they just hang around him because they’re afraid of him, because he’s Lucius’s son?”

Hermione began to laugh. “Oh, Harry. I knew exactly what you meant, but the words just don’t make any sense at all do they? They hang around him because they’re afraid of him.”

“Yes, yes. Make fun of my grammar why don’t you?” Harry retorted.

As they all thought about it, Ginny turned to Dan. “What did you do to him anyway, Mr. Granger?” she asked.

A slight smile appeared on Dan’s face. “You kids know what pressure points are?” he asked. Harry, Ron, and Ginny shook their heads. “Well, now you do. A little Muggle self defense technique,” he explained.

Once they’d all reassembled, the small expedition began to head down Diagon Alley, back towards Madam Malkin’s. Along the way, Harry remembered something.

“Hermione?” he asked. “Why were you smirking when Malfoy was talking?”

“Oh, yeah. That. Well, he called you a prince. When he did... I... uh...” she stuttered, sounding as though she was embarrassed, “it, uh, made me think about my, ahem, about that T-shirt. My Prince Harry T-shirt,” she clarified, then quickly sped up to walk next to her mother. When he realized he’d stopped walking, Harry had to jog for a moment to catch up to everyone else.

---

A/N: Saving the BEST for last, AGAIN. Here is are several more photo-manips made by Evernight. If you visit the galleries often, then you’ve probably already seen them. But if not, here they are. Please, leave a kind word if you like them.

Scene from Chapter 13.

I love them all, but these two by far are my favorites. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, I know for a fact that isn’t enough because these two are certainly worth the over 18,000 words combined from these chapters.

Scene from Chapter 20.

Scene from Chapter 6. (I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but, hey, I got to pick the font!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: Many thanks to give this time. First and foremost, my beta, MapleMountain. You keep me SANE!!!

Second, another thanks to my business associate, Erika, who again helped me with some of my British-isms. All the research I did about “new money” and “old money” didn’t tell me that they really do say “fifty-pea.” I may not be speaking like a native, but I’m a lot closer now. :-)

Third, I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to replying to all of your reviews yet. I make it a point to reply to each one, but this chapter has gotten away from me. I will get to them all, I promise!!

And fourth, but by no means least, thanks to Evernight for conspiring with me as I developed the scene in Madam Malkin’s in this chapter (link at bottom of page... no, don’t look now!). I gave him a rough outline of what I wanted to happen, and then he visualized a single moment to capture.

What he captured with his Photoshop magic was so EXACTLY what I wanted (even though the outline I gave him was actually completely different) that I actually rewrote almost half of the scene in Madam Malkin’s to fit the picture.

---

Chapter 22. Double Trouble: Something Wicked This Way Comes.

“Hermione?” he asked. “Why were you smirking when Malfoy was talking?”

“Oh, yeah. That. Well, he called you a prince. When he did... I... uh...” she stuttered, sounding as though she was embarrassed, “it, uh, made me think about my, ahem, about that T-shirt. My Prince Harry T-shirt,” she clarified, then quickly sped up to walk next to her mother. When he realized he’d stopped walking, Harry had to jog for a moment to catch up to everyone else.

As they slowly strolled back in the direction whence they came, stops were made here and there. They walked first to the Owl Post office so that Bill could send a letter for Fleur to her family, thence they continued on.

Hermione made a stop in the Magical Menagerie to inquire about potions for preventing hairballs for Crookshanks. Ginny accompanied her in. After Hermione made her purchase and they emerged a few minutes later, Ginny immediately began a less-than-subtle whispering campaign to suggest that the puffskeins they were selling would make an excellent present for her upcoming birthday.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Percy all went into Eeylops. All of them except Hermione needed to buy more owl treats. Hermione—who still had the full bag she’d bought at the end of fifth year “in case” (in the hopes that) Hedwig might stop by—went in to see if there was anything of a magical nature that she might want to buy for Metis.

Since she was going to leave Metis at home with her parents, she wanted to be aware of any remedies she could easily send them. After all, Hagrid wouldn’t be there at her house to provide care for her magical creature.

There were some expense feather-care potions available for promoting healthy, shiny-looking feathers. She decided against them considering owls had existed for millennia without them. It certainly didn’t hurt that Harry said Hedwig had done perfectly fine without them either. She did make note of a owl-care potion for dealing with parasites however, such as the biting louse that was found only on owls, Strigiphilus garylarsoni, just in case.

The trip to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary was actually very easy this year. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny went in alone, however. Dan and Emma had both been eager to look at all of the strange ingredients, something they hadn’t done since first year. They quickly turned around as soon as they walked through the door way.

“Good Lord!” Dan complained as he returned to the street. “Now I remember why we waited outside before second year.” The horrible smell of bad eggs and rotten cabbage took a lot longer to get used to than most other smells did.

Now entering N.E.W.T. level Potions, Harry, Hermione, and Ron needed a large assortment of ingredients they’d never used before (at least in class... they did have some extra-curricular experience with powdered horn of bicorn in second year). They also needed to buy new scales.

The scales used at the O.W.L. level were only accurate to one gram; N.E.W.T. classes required accuracy to one-hundredth of a gram... or so the booklists said in the supplies section.

“One hundredth of a gram?” Ron complained. “Why in the name of Merlin do we need anything like that?”

“Because, Ronald, a single grain of coarse sand weighs, on average, about one-hundredth of a gram,” Hermione explained, quoting directly from the booklist which explained the need for such precision. “And since several of our ingredients will be in powder form, which is much finer than coarse sand...”

“How does she know that?” Ron asked Harry, nettled.

“Do I really need to answer that?” Harry replied with a grin; he’d read it on the booklist too.

As for their ingredients, with so many new, advanced potions in the N.E.W.T. class requiring new ingredients, it was simply easier to just buy a complete sixth year Potions kit. Anything they had left over from the previous year could just be added to the kit.

While they waited for the shop owner to gather (rather grumpily) all of the necessary ingredients for three kits (and Ginny wandered around selecting what she needed to refill her supplies for her O.W.L. year), the three of them had little to do. As such, they wandered around looking at some of the more exotic ingredients.

Looking at two large jars on a shelf, Hermione let out a small chuckle. When the shop owner walked by to gather another item for their kits, she stopped him for a moment.

“Excuse me, sir. Forgive me for asking, but I was just wondering. Did you put these two next to each other on purpose?” she asked, pointing to the two jars.

“Ah, I did indeed,” he replied in surprise. “Nice to see that some people still appreciate the classics, even if he was a Muggle.” He then resumed his gathering, though his mood seemed to brighten considerably.

When the shop keeper walked away, Harry came over to see where she’d pointed. “Eye of newt, and toe of frog,” she told him. “It’s from a play called Macbeth,” she tried to explain when she could see he didn’t recognize it.

“I’ll show it to you later,” she said and then continued to look around. About ten minutes later, their sixth year Potions kits were ready. After removing three scales from the shelf behind him, the shopkeeper turned back to Hermione.

“Did you find the scale of dragon next to the tooth of wolf?” he asked with a large grin; Hermione nodded.

“Fillet of a fenny snake?” the shop keeper quizzed her, trying to suppress his excited laugh.

“In the cauldron boil and bake,” Hermione answered after a moment, quoting the next line of the play.

“By the pricking of my thumbs?” he asked.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she answered with a smile.

The shopkeeper began to laugh and clapped his hands together.

“Ah, excellent! Excellent!” he replied, very pleased that she knew something of Macbeth. “Just for that, I’ll knock a Galleon off each of your totals.”

The three of them each left twenty-three Galleons lighter (eleven for the ingredients, thirteen for the scale, minus the discount). Since Ginny was only refilling her supplies, she made it out the door five Galleons, thirteen Sickles later (after discount).

Ron, tickled pink at the extra Galleon in his pocket, turned to Harry once they were back out in the street.

“See, Harry? I knew there was a reason we kept her around,” he said. Hermione, to Harry’s surprise, actually grinned at Ron’s comment.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you have a smart girl around, Ron,” she said before going to rejoin her parents. Before walking off however, she turned to look at Harry. It was literally only half of a second, but in that moment, Harry could have sworn she wagged her eyebrows ever so slightly at him.

He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. If she did do what he thought she did, it was so subtle, he was positive he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t be watching her so intently. Once she was ahead of him, Harry shook his head slightly to stop the racing that had begun inside.

That was the second time she’d said that. Once was just once. But twice was just... well... twice! He was definitely going to have to start paying much closer attention to what she said. Sure, it didn’t necessarily mean anything, but still, it was a foot in the door.

* * *

Upon walking into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Ron and Ginny raced to be the first to start looking at new dress robes. Both knew that Madam Malkin’s attention would be at a premium once fittings started. They had to wait a moment, however, until they reverted the transfigured robes they were all wearing. Madam Malkin ordered everyone to immediately cancel the transfigurations the instant they entered.

“Transfigured robes? Not in MY store!” she admonished them.

Twenty minutes later, neither Ron nor Ginny had found anything they liked (both had already gone through four sets each already). Finally, Ron found something he seemed to like. His fifth selection was a set of dark maroon robes. The pleats in the fabric offered the slightest hint of Quidditch robes. As for the color, well, somehow Ron managed to pull it off... not that Harry would ever admit that to anyone.

By now, Harry (and Hermione) had been wandering around the store, trying to make as many decisions as they could before they tried anything on. After five sets for Ron, and currently on numbers six and seven for Ginny, Madam Malkin’s patience was wearing thin.

Ginny finally seemed to be down to two. The problem was that she could not decide which she liked better. All of the ones she was interested in showed off her shoulders and quite a bit of chest... nothing inappropriate for formal school events, but enough to remind everyone of some of the differences between males and females.

The problem was that with so much exposed skin, the color of her robes had to be balanced against not only her red hair, but the abundance of freckles now visible. Her two finalists were a shimmering, satiny-silver and a deep forest green.

Unlike the silver, the velvet-like green material seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, causing waves of near-black to ripple across the material as it moved. Both, Harry thought, looked very nice.

Hermione and Dan had agreed fully with Emma’s assessment that both were very lovely. Arthur and Molly had given up trying to render a verdict that Ginny would accept when she was still at numbers three and four. Bill, Charlie, and Percy had skipped the now full robes shop in the first place and wandered ahead to Quality Quidditch Supply.

Poor Harry made the mistake of telling Ginny that both were “nice” and that she should just go with whichever one she liked better. When Ginny hastily retreated to the dressing room to put on the green one for the third time, Dan discreetly came up behind Harry.

“We need to have a chat at some point about what not to say when a female asks your opinion,” he whispered quietly so that no one else could hear.

In the end, Ginny actually enlisted Ron to help her decide, once he returned from the dressing room. She asked him which one he thought looked sexier on her. When he reacted with a much more horrified complaint of “Don’t ask me things like that! You’re my sister!” to the green one, Ginny smiled and made her choice.

“I’ll take the green one,” she told Madam Malkin, beaming.

Harry thought he heard a whispered “Finally!” come from at least one of her parents... but then he realized it could have been any one (or all) of the adults that had whispered.

With Ron now out of the dressing room, Harry felt it important to give him a good ribbing for his help in selecting his sister’s robes. Once Ron was sufficiently annoyed, Harry went and grabbed his first selection (he’d had ample time to narrow them down by now).

Honestly, he didn’t really see the need for new dress robes in the first place. If it wasn’t for the undeniable fact that he’d grown nearly a foot since Molly bought his current bottle-green set two years earlier, he probably would’ve skipped it all together.

Harry’s first choice was a set of black robes with an open front that required a white dress shirt underneath. Returning from the changing room wearing a pair of black dress trousers and the required shirt, he stood in front of the mirror as Madam Malkin draped the robes over him and began making adjustments.

The resulting ensemble very much resembled a Muggle tuxedo. All that was missing was a black bow tie. Harry studied his reflection while Madam Malkin continued pinning up the bottom of his robes here and there. Considering how critical Harry was of himself, even he had to admit that he looked rather presentable.

Almost as if that thought summoned them, Hermione and Ginny, fresh out of the changing room, appeared. Both came up behind him (Hermione on his right and Ginny on his left) and looked over his shoulders at his reflection.

“Looking good, Harry!” Ginny said enthusiastically, wagging her eyebrows at him suggestively.

Hermione took an extra second or two to answer. “Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all,” she said with a smirk.

“Not bad?” Emma’s voice suddenly added as she walked up and joined the other two in assessing his appearance. “He’s bloody handsome!” All three of them began to laugh as Harry started experimenting with his facial colorings.

“Though...” Hermione added once she stopped laughing, “there is something missing.” She turned to her mother and tapped the collar of her own shirt.

“Of course,” Emma said, nodding knowingly. She then headed off to where Harry had gone to get the white dress shirt.

Ron, with his newly purchased robes in a bag, came up and stood where Emma had. He’d obviously heard everything.

“You’re so hot, Harry,” Ron teased, trying to mimic a high-pitched female voice.

“Prat,” Harry grumbled.

Not until Ginny had finally made her selection (and sealed it by actually buying them) did Hermione walk over to the racks of witches’ dress robes and quickly select two. She stopped and looked hard at a green one on the end of the rack, but ended up skipping it.

While she never appeared to get caught up in the intricacies of fashion as most of the rest of the girls at Hogwarts seemed to, Hermione did at least want to be sure she didn’t get the same thing as Ginny. She decided early that it’d simply be easier, and faster in the long run, to let Ginny decide what she wanted and then adjust her choices accordingly to eliminate any blatant similarities, rather than the other way around. The green one, now eliminated, was one of her top three.

“What is it with girls and dress robes anyway?” Ron asked quietly, referring back to the Ginny-seven dress ordeal. His head suddenly snapped towards the window. Looking in the same direction as Ron was, Harry thought he caught a glimpse of long blonde hair walking just out of view, in a group of several other people.

“Be right back,” Ron mumbled as he headed for the door. In the doorway, he stuck his head out and looked up the street, appearing as though he was trying to find someone. Evidently giving up the visual search after about ten seconds, he walked out the door and headed up the street in the same direction he’d been looking.

Suppressing a smirk, Harry turned back to see Hermione return with her two selections draped over her arm.

“Which one should I try first, Harry?” she asked, examining the fabrics as she set both down on a table. He turned his attention to the two sets of robes. Both of the fabrics were nice, however his eyes were immediately drawn to one. It wasn’t periwinkle, but...

“I don’t know... I’ve always thought you looked rather nice in blue,” he admitted, trying to sound as objective as possible.

“The blue one, huh?” Hermione mused, picking it up. “Midnight Sapphire,” she said aloud to herself as she looked at it. She then turned around and scrutinized him slightly.

“You’re not trying to take the easy way out, are you, Harry? Sapphire is my birthstone, after all,” she informed him.

“What? No. Of course not,” he defended. How was he supposed to know what the birthstone for September was, or any other month for that matter? He’d never had reason to need that kind of information before. Then again, now that he knew, it was a handy tidbit of knowledge to have... should he ever have the chance to use it.

“I didn’t know that sa...” Harry trailed off as he realized from the look on her face that she was just giving him a hard time. As Hermione headed off to the changing room, Emma returned with what looked like a thin strip of black fabric.

“Don’t forget your tie, Harry,” she said as she handed it to him. Harry looked at the piece of material in his hands. He knew it wasn’t supposed to be one, but he could not get over the fact that it did not look like a necktie. He could knot a regular necktie in his sleep; he’d been doing it since first year. But a bow tie?

Madam Malkin looked up just then and saw him holding the unfurled accessory apprehensively. Returning her attention to one of his hems, she casually flicked her wand up towards him. The bow tie immediately jumped out of his hands and perfectly tied itself around the collar of his shirt.

“Just temporary, dearie,” Madam Malkin said, not looking up. “You’ll still need to learn to do it yourself at some point.”

Dan now came over to see what all the fuss was about.

“Very nice, Harry. You look a bit like James Bond like that,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

James Bond, Harry knew. He was able to catch bits and pieces of many of the movies over the years as he cleared the table and did the dishes while the Dursleys watched television. Aunt Petunia, it turned out, was very fond of James Bond (at least four of the five of them, sorry George). Vernon and Dudley liked the movies too, especially when stuff blew up. And there were the Bond girls too, of course.

“You think so?” he asked Dan. He looked into the mirror again, straightened his back, then gave his robes a quick tug (much to the consternation of Madam Malkin at his feet) as if to make sure they were properly seated. “Potter. Harry Potter,” he introduced himself to his reflection.

Something suddenly caught Harry’s eye. He turned his head to find Hermione walking out of the changing room in the dark blue dress robes. He was pretty sure his jaw didn’t really drop open, but it sure felt like it. Beautiful was such an inadequate word (in his opinion) to describe how she looked in her robes.

Stunning might have been technically more correct since he felt unable to move or speak. All he could do was stand there and watch her walk up to the second fitting table next to his. Hermione cast him a quick glance before turning to face the mirror. The last thing he saw of her face was a blushing smile. Was the look on his face that obvious?

So THAT’S what it is with girls and dress robes, Harry said to himself.

While Madam Malkin began making adjustments, Harry slowly moved a couple steps to the side to be better able to see her in the mirror. Strangely, when she was walking out of the changing room, he’d seen her, but hadn’t actually looked at the rest of her; his eyes never left her face.

When they did finally leave her face, he could feel his mouth dry out. She’d done nothing special with her hair, but she still looked absolutely beautiful. The blue material seemed to have some sort of sparkly effect. Even the slightest movement would cause thousands of tiny sparkles to appear. Any curves in the fabric seemed to accentuate the sparkles, and unfortunately for Harry’s... resolve, dress robes were not as adept at hiding curves as standard school robes. If anything, they seemed to accentuate them, but without being too revealing.

Also overwhelming his willpower was the fact that Hermione’s robes were of the same cut as Ginny’s. They showed off her shoulders and a fair amount of her chest as well. Again, nothing inappropriate for formal school events, but thank Merlin she wouldn’t be wearing these every day... and damn Merlin too, now that he thought about it.

The worst (and best) part about these robes was that Harry now knew Hermione had a small mole... there. He hadn’t seen it before when he accidentally barged in on her because her arms were in the way. And he hadn’t seen it in his dreams this morning, since he couldn’t see anything in his dreams that he didn’t see when he barged in on her. He was so glad his new robes were still very loose and very oversized so that they hid everything.

Ginny, Molly, and Emma quickly huddled around Hermione to examine the robes (Emma was now standing between the two of them).

“You’ll knock ‘em dead!” Ginny told Hermione; Harry agreed.

“Lovely, dear,” Molly added; Harry agreed.

“My princess in blue,” Dan added from the other side; Harry agreed.

“Absolutely beautiful, honey,” Emma said; Harry agreed.

“How about a male point of view, one that isn’t her father’s?” Emma added suddenly. Still slightly stupefied, Harry felt himself being maneuvered to stand directly beside Hermione. “What do you think, Harry?” she asked, then casually moved everyone back so that the two of them couldn’t see anyone else in the mirror.

Standing next to her, it felt like it took an eternity before Harry was able to find his voice. In reality, it only took about three seconds. Of course, in a silent room with everyone waiting for a response, three seconds was nearly an eternity.

“Y-yeah...” he finally croaked out, thinking of the descriptions so far. “Yeah, what they said,” he finished once his voice smoothed out slightly. When he saw Hermione looking at him through the mirror, he smiled and gave a tiny nod as if to confirm that he really did mean what he said... however inarticulate he’d been.

When she looked back to her own reflection, Harry’s attention quickly wandered down about a foot.

Oh dear, he thought to himself. Now that he knew that mole was there...

With his gaze firmly attached to that tiny mark on her skin, Harry did not notice Hermione look at him in the mirror again. A smirk of triumph slipped out when she realized that his distracted attention was proof that he was looking at her differently now, if only by definition.

Even if she never got a chance to wear these robes at school, they’d already paid for themselves. She had his complete and undivided attention... at least for the moment. She didn’t know if it was anything more than hormonal, but it was certainly progress.

She’d never seen him look at her like that before. And there could be no doubt now that these robes reminded him that she was a girl.

Thinking about their conversation that first day, Hermione realized her mother was right (not that she really doubted it). Maybe, sometimes boys did respond better to a subtle song than an anvil chorus. Looking back, her “PRINCESS” T-shirt was rather overt. But this... this was just her buying something that she needed to buy. Totally innocent, right?

Deciding that sooner or later, Harry would realize he was staring, Hermione turned her attention back to the dress and her own reflection. Her mind was already made up. She supposed she ought to at least look like she was actually thinking about it though, so as to not be obvious.

Harry finally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he did look as obvious as he felt. Of course, since he knew he was the only one who knew how he felt about Hermione, he was certain no one else would recognize it. And Hermione still seemed to be thinking about it, so he was sure she didn’t catch him staring.

Just then, Molly then started looking around. “Where did Ronald go?” she asked.

“I think he saw someone outside and went to talk to them,” Harry answered, forcing himself to look at his own robes again.

“Well, Hermione, dear,” Molly resumed, “I guess you’ll have to settle for the four of us, plus Harry. What do you think? Do you want to try on the other one?” she asked.

Needless to say, but the gold dress she’d also pulled from the racks was put back without ever having been tried. The whole thing, from the time she emerged from the changing room until she actually returned had taken all of about two minutes, much of which was spent standing next to Harry in the mirror.

Right as Hermione walked through the curtain that led to the changing rooms, the front door opened and Ron walked back in. Harry noticed he had a decidedly disappointed look on his face.

“Where’d you go?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh. I, uh, thought I saw someone. But it turned out it wasn’t h... them,” Ron finished. Harry noticed that he’d changed his word at the last second. He also noticed Ron’s ears begin to turn slightly pink.

“So, what? Now do we have to wait for Hermione to try on her robes too?” Ron asked, looking around to see where she was.

Harry smiled. “Nope. She’s already picked hers out. She’s just changing now.”

Ron looked stunned. “What? Are you serious? I was only gone a minute!”

“Yeah, well, Hermione isn’t Ginny,” Harry replied, making sure Ginny couldn’t hear him. Oh, and how true that is, in so many ways, he added to himself happily.

“What about you?” Ron then asked. “Still can’t decide yet?”

“What?” Harry asked, surprised. He’d decided the moment he met double-oh-Potter.

“You’re still standing there, looking lost,” Ron pointed out.

Harry let out a laugh. “Oh, no. I’m getting these. I just got hooked into by these four,” Harry said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards Molly, Ginny, Emma, and Dan on the other side of the store, “into giving an opinion on Hermione’s robes.”

Ron shuddered slightly at the opinion he was forced to consider for his sister. “So sorry, mate,” Ron consoled him.

As he returned to the dressing room, Hermione’s words echoed in his mind, “Midnight Sapphire.”

* * *

Just before noon, the large group finally found themselves back where they started their shopping trip: in front of Quality Quidditch Supply (and the clock shop next to it on the left). While the older Weasleys had lunch at the same restaurant where they ran into Tonks and Lupin earlier, Harry, Dan, Ron, and Ginny went in to wander around.

Hermione, in the meanwhile, offered to pick up new parchment, ink, and quills for everyone while they all looked at brooms. Leading her mother towards the stationery store on the other side of the Quidditch store, she also said she wanted a little quality mother-daughter shopping time. Why Emma looked nervous, Harry did not know.

Walking out about half an hour later, Ron let out a laugh when the door closed behind them.

“One thousand Galleons, mate,” he said to Harry.

“For what?” Harry asked.

“A Firebolt.”

Dan stopped mid-stride. “Are you telling me, Harry, that your broom cost five thousand pounds, plus or minus?”

“I guess so,” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It was a gift from Sirius. I never knew how much it cost. The sign on it said ‘Price Upon Request.’”

He then turned back to Ron with a grin. “You requested?”

Ron managed to look guilty as he grinned. “Just for fun. Wasn’t really going to buy one. I’ve gotten rather attached to my Cleansweep, if you must know.”

“He talks to it, you know?” Ginny added from behind them. “When he’s polishing it. If you sneak up on him, you can hear him whispering to it.”

“I do not!” Ron defended resolutely. Harry could see a slight twinge of pink appear in his ears.

“Uh huh,” Harry replied. “Is that why you bought the extra large tin of High-Finish handle polish?”

“You bought some too,” Ron replied, his ears getting brighter.

“Yeah, but I only bought a standard refill for the servicing kit Hermione got me for my birthday,” Harry teased. “I didn’t buy the super, jumbo sized tin.”

“Ah, there they are,” Ron said, looking in the other direction, clearly trying to change the subject. Harry turned to see the elder Weasleys waiting for them at their table. Hermione and Emma were sitting a couple tables away from the others, talking quietly to each other.

“Well gang,” Dan called as everyone began to get up, “are we all finished with our shopping today?” Hearing all affirmatives, he then rubbed his hands together. “Who’s up for lunch?”

“ME!” came the simultaneous reply from all three Grangers, Harry, Ginny, and not surprisingly Ron. Labored groans indicating satiation came from the remaining Weasleys.

Everyone else seemed to let Dan be in charge at the moment, so he turned to Harry. “Since you’ve pretty much been taken along for the ride these last two days, what do you say we let you pick where we go for lunch? Any ideas, Harry?”

Harry thought about it for a few moments. An embarrassed grin appeared on his face. “Erm, actually, you might laugh, but yeah, now that you mention it. Wasn’t there a Kwik-E-Burger up the street near the Underground?” he asked smiling. “For some reason, a hamburger sounds really good right about now.”

Dan, Emma, and Hermione all nodded in agreement. “What about you two?” Dan asked Ron and Ginny. “Ever been to a Kwik-E-Burger? It’s the pinnacle of Muggle cuisine,” he said with a grin. Harry noticed Arthur’s attention perk up.

Ron and Ginny both shook their heads to indicate they hadn’t been there. “Do they serve food there?” Ron asked with a grin; Dan nodded. “Then I’ll eat there.”

“Sure,” Ginny agreed also.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Arthur asked excitedly.

“You just ate!” Molly admonished.

“I just want to see the straw dispensers,” Arthur promised. “Did you have any other plans today, dear?” he asked. Molly shook her head.

“Why don’t you, Bill, Charlie, and Percy go on home then? I’ll go with this lot, and then stop by the Ministry to pick up a couple things on our way home.”

Molly agreed. As unenthusiastic as she was to sit in another restaurant for another half an hour, she also seemed uneasy about making the trip back to Grimmauld Place without Arthur.

Bill, seeing his mother’s uneasiness, stepped in. “Don’t worry, Mum. I know my way around the Underground. I have to use it occasionally to get to the Bank of England Museum. Have any of you ever been there?” he asked.

Only Arthur and Dan nodded. “All of Gringotts’ financial transactions with the Muggle world go through the Bank of England,” Bill explained. “The extension office is in the museum... of all places. Wizards who choose to live in the Muggle world can go there to set up a special Muggle account that will tie into their Gringotts vault. With one of these accounts, they can access the gold in their vaults, electronically, from any local branch bank in England.”

“Oh, so that’s how it worked,” Hermione said quietly to herself; Ron’s eyes looked glazed over.

“Plus, it’s conveniently located. It’s just right down the street from King’s Cross.” Once Bill stopped talking, Ron seemed to wake up.

With everyone’s plans decided, they all started to head back to The Leaky Cauldron. Once in the small courtyard beyond the brick wall, they took a moment to shrink their purchases so they could be easily carried while they walked around.

After everyone said goodbye to Tom the bartender, they walked out the front door to rejoin Muggle London. None of the passersby on the street paid any attention as eleven people reappeared on the street outside.

When The Leaky Cauldron finally disappeared between the bookstore and the record store, a young woman, who’d been looking directly at them as she approached, suddenly jumped in surprise. As her face began to flush in embarrassment, she turned to walk around the group. She offered a small apology as she walked by Emma (closest to her).

“Oh, I’m so sorry. My mind must have been a million miles away. I didn’t even see you standing there until the last moment.”

“Not to worry, dear,” Emma consoled her in a friendly manner as she walked by. “It happens to the best of us sometimes.”

“Yeah, especially when you really do appear out of thin air at the last moment,” Hermione added in a whisper to Harry; he nodded.

When they reached the entrance to the Underground, Molly, Bill, Charlie, and Percy separated from the rest of the group to start their journey back to Grimmauld Place. She took with her Arthur’s, Ron’s, and Ginny’s purchases. Everyone else continued walking down the street to the Kwik-E-Burger on the corner.

As they walked in the door and the smell of rapidly prepared food washed over them, Harry’s suddenly recalled Arthur’s enthusiasm and excitement at everything Muggle about the Underground when they journeyed to the Ministry for Harry’s trial. He moved to walk along side Arthur as they approached the order counter.

“Remember, Mr. Weasley. This is a restaurant and they can’t clean up with a wave of a wand,” Harry whispered. “I don’t think they’ll take kindly to you if you start touching everything. Observe discreetly.”

“Yes, of course Harry,” Arthur replied in a tone of voice that was both a mixture of happiness that he was allowed to look and also disappointment that he wasn’t allowed to touch.

“All right everyone,” Harry told them as they all looked at the menu boards, “my treat today. No argument.” Happy that he got none, he turned to Ron and Ginny, who both appeared lost as they looked at all of the options.

“What do I want?” Ginny whispered to Hermione, afraid to let any of the other customers see that she didn’t know what she was doing.

“Just get a combo meal,” Hermione whispered back, “a hamburger, chips, and a drink.” Ginny nodded.

“Right, do you want any modifications?” Harry asked the younger Weasleys. “You know, toppings taken off or added to your hamburger?” he clarified. The look that Ron gave Harry was clearly one of offense at the idea of removing anything edible from his hamburger.

“Right,” Harry said to Ron with a laugh. “Ginny?” Ginny again looked at Hermione.

“No onions for Ginny,” Hermione answered for her. Ron looked aghast (and confused).

“I thought you liked onions just fine in your food,” Ron asked. As he did, Ginny finally saw a picture of the hamburger on the wall.

“I like onions in my food, not on it,” Ginny explained as she saw the toppings that came included. “If you’d ever paid any attention, you’d know that.”

Ron, who quickly turned away to get out from under the wrath of his sister, suddenly started tugging on Harry’s arm.

“Oh! Harry! Can I have one of those?” he asked eagerly, pointing at one of the illuminated signs showing a picture of a triple cheeseburger.

Harry looked at Ron dubiously. “That’s three-quarters of a pound of meat, Ron,” he pointed out. With a big grin on his face, Ron just nodded happily. “Okay.”

While the females went to scout out a table for seven, Harry and Dan went up to order. Ron and Arthur came up behind them (Ron to get a better look at all the food behind the order counter, Arthur to watch the cashier use the ‘little box with all the buttons’).

“Can I help you?” the young, pretty girl behind the counter asked, then put on a brilliant smile as she looked at Harry.

“Yeah. Can I get three number ones, two extra pickle, one no onion, one number three with extra everything...” Harry started, but then paused as he could see the cashier wanted to interrupt.

“Extra everything?” she asked; Harry nodded. “That’ll be an extra 30p for the extra cheese and 90p for extra tomatoes. Is that okay?” Ron nodded before Harry could consider it. The cashier looked at Harry; he nodded. Ron then looked back up at the picture and saw a small sign in the corner of it.

“OH! And add bacon!” he tacked on. He then put his hand on Harry’s arm in excitement. “Do they—?”

“No, they don’t do extra bacon,” Harry cut him off. He then gave the cashier a smile that told her “No, you don’t do extra bacon.” He looked up at the sign on the picture also.

50p/2 pc per patty

“You’re already getting six pieces as it is,” Harry pointed out.

“Okay,” Ron replied, still happy.

“And...” Harry continued his order, trailing off as he looked at Dan.

“One number two and one number six, extra pickle on both,” Dan told the cashier. As he did, Harry noticed Arthur beginning to lean over the counter to get a better look at the cash register. Harry reached over and put his hand on Arthur’s arm to stop him. The cashier glanced at Arthur for a moment then looked at Harry questioningly; Harry just smiled as if to say, “Don’t ask.”

“Would you like to upgrade any of your meals to large or Mega-sized?” she then asked. Harry briefly glanced at Ron (who appeared fascinated watching the workers behind the cashier assemble the burgers).

“Yeah, better make the number three Mega-sized,” he wisely decided.

The cashier repeated the order then fixed Harry with a very intent stare. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked in what he felt was a rather flirtatious voice.

“That’ll be all,” Harry replied with a fake smile.

“Twenty-five eighty-four, please,” the cashier told him his total. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron flinch. He pulled one of the £50 notes he got at Gringotts out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier.

After taking his change in one hand and their drink cups in the other, Harry led Ron and Arthur toward the soft drink fountain. As they approached it, he turned to Ron. “Pounds, Ron, not Galleons. Twenty-six pounds.”

Ron shook his head. “Yeah, I figured that out after my heart attack,” he said in good humor.

Emma remained seated, holding their table (it was a busy lunch hour, after all), while Hermione and Ginny went up to get their drinks. Dan took the stack of cups out of Harry’s hand and handed them out. A flummoxed Ron stood staring at the soft drink fountain.

“It’s nothing like butterbeer,” Harry said to Ron when he saw him begin to point at the root beer. While everyone else got their drinks, and knowing that Ron might take a moment (or ten) deciding which drink to try, he began to idly play with the coins he got in his change, having already put the paper notes back into his pocket.

“Was I just imagining things, or was that girl flirting with you, Harry?” Ron asked. Harry suddenly became very interested in the coins in his hand.

“What girl?” Hermione asked, sounding entirely uninterested as she filled her cup.

“The girl taking orders,” Ron answered, still staring at all the drink options. “Sprite?” he asked aloud to himself.

“Ooh, she’s cute, Harry,” Ginny cooed after looking at her. “You should ask her out,” she teased (at least, Harry assumed she was teasing).

“Thanks, but no,” Harry replied awkwardly, desperately trying to memorize each of the different designs on the four £1 coins he got. Thanks to the rotating use of different effigies of the Queen on the obverse and various images on the reverse representing the UK, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, and England, there had been only three duplicate designs since the pound coin replaced the pound note in 1983.

This year’s design was the “second” effigy, along with the Celtic cross and pimpernel which represented Northern Ireland.

In his change, Harry also happened across a two pence coin. Looking at it, he suddenly recalled something from many, many years ago. For one of his birthdays, Harry had actually received a small handful of coins from his Uncle Vernon. The day after that birthday however, he found out why Vernon gave them to him.

They were some old coins his uncle had found in a box back from his own school days... back when there were twenty shillings to a pound and twelve pence to a shilling. Now that there were one hundred “new pence” to the pound instead of the old two hundred forty, those old, worn out coins, all these years after decimalization in 1971, were now effectively worthless.

Dudley took great pleasure in pointing that out to Harry. And the only reason Dudley even knew anything about it was because Vernon had to explain to him why he actually gave their nephew, who took hard earned food off their table, any money in the first place. It was easy to give a small boy tiny, worthless bits of metal.

But in the end, Harry didn’t really care. Because contained in those seven old coins was one of the old twopence coins, the “tuppence” made famous by a certain movie that his Aunt Petunia had once tried to make Dudley watch when it was on television, instead of the more violent movies the eight-year old preferred.

She only tried to make him watch it once however, for not only was there the fact that it was on television and would probably not be on again for another year or two, but Dudley screamed at the fact that there was singing in the movie.

Then of course, Vernon had locked Harry back into his cupboard for a week after that when he found out it had been on television, threatening him to not get any funny ideas about people flying around on umbrellas. It would be a few more years before that threat made any sense to Harry.

So, as Harry stared at the current twopence in his hand, he was reminded fondly of the old tuppence he’d managed to hold onto until one day when it disappeared from his cupboard while Vernon had let him out to use the toilet. Harry remembered that Dudley was unusually happy that day.

In the five seconds that had elapsed while Harry reminisced, Ron turned back to look at the cashier again. “Hey, even I think she’s kinda cute, and I like to think my standards are pretty high,” he said grinning.

Not if you think Hermione is plain-looking, Harry thought to himself with a grin, forgetting the coins for the moment as he put them into his pocket.

“Or... what? You don’t have a thing for brunettes either?” Ron teased. Harry quickly glanced at Hermione, then rapidly turned his head in an attempt to make it appear as he meant to look at Ron. This time, he hadn’t meant to do that. It was just an irresistible reflex. Oh, how he’d love to slowly run his hands through that bushy, brown hair...

Harry refocused his attention on Ron. He didn’t know how to respond to his comment. He couldn’t say that he didn’t, but he couldn’t say that he did either. Fortunately, the flirtatious cashier called his order number just then, and they all went up to grab the four trays of food.

As Harry, Ron, Dan, and Ginny carried the trays, Hermione went and grabbed napkins and straws for everyone. Arthur watched with delight as she pushed the little lever on the dispenser and one paper-wrapped straw popped out. After the second one, Arthur asked if she would allow him to press the lever. He did it four more times.

Once they were all seated, since Dan and Emma were on the far end of the table and Ron and Ginny didn’t understand the little markings on the sandwich wrappers, Harry handed out everyone’s lunch: hamburgers with extra pickle for himself and Hermione, hamburger no onion for Ginny, triple bacon cheeseburger with extra everything for Ron, double cheeseburger extra pickle for Dan, and grilled chicken sandwich extra pickle for Emma. Hermione handed out the boxes of chips.

It took Ron a few seconds to figure out how to unwrap his burger, but once he did, he put nose down next to the monstrous burger and took a deep breath.

“Blimey...” he sighed with a very content grin and then dove straight in. Harry was pretty sure he couldn’t open his mouth that wide to take a bite of anything that large, however in good humor he did suppose that Ron had had some practice putting his foot in his mouth, so it worked out just fine for him.

After two large bites of his burger and a large handful of chips, Ron (fortunately) took a moment to swallow and then looked at Harry in contentment after he returned from taking the trays back to free up space on the table.

“We have to get them to start serving these at school, mate!” Ron insisted; Ginny agreed. As Ron resumed his attack, Harry finally got a chance to start eating. He immediately opened his hamburger and took off the tomato and set it on the opened wrapper of Hermione’s (who was sitting next to him). She then took it and added it to her hamburger.

Ron saw this and (between overflowing mouthfuls) let out a laugh.

“Eat here often?” he teased. Harry looked at Ron confused.

“I mean, you already knew what she wanted on hers and you knew she would take the tomato,” Ron explained.

“Actually, no, this is only the second time I’ve been to a place like this,” Harry explained. “As for knowing about what she likes, as your sister so eloquently pointed out, it’s easy to know what someone likes if you just pay the slightest bit of attention to them,” Harry said grinning, and winking at Ginny.

“And besides, it was easy to remember. They all got the same thing: extra pickles. Since the first time they ordered mine that way too and I liked it, I did again. And since I don’t like tomatoes on my hamburger, this way I don’t have to throw mine away and she doesn’t have to pay extra for an extra one.”

“But you like tomatoes just fine,” Ron pointed out, confused.

Harry grinned. “As someone once said, I like tomatoes in my food, not on it.” Harry just didn’t like raw tomatoes, so the cooked tomatoes in the sauce of the Grangers’ chicken dish (and in the other things he ate) were perfectly fine. Perfect, actually, as he’d told Hermione several weeks ago.

Ron thought about it for a moment, trying to remember how he’d missed little details like that about his best friend and his sister. He smiled when he realized that he didn’t notice much else when there was food in front of him, and then took a large drink.

Harry could see a look of surprise appear on Ron’s face as he forced down his drink. He then let out a cough of surprise as he grinned broadly.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Ron explained. “It’s like it’s... bubbling... in my mouth.”

“That’s because it is,” Dan replied, leaning forward to look across Ginny who was between him and Ron. “It’s a carbonated beverage. There are...” he paused for a moment, searching for a way to describe it, “thousands of bubbles hidden in the liquid, and they pop when you drink it.”

A look of sheer amazement appeared on Ron’s face. “You can DO that? Wicked!” Ginny, who hadn’t yet taken a drink yet, did so. She began to giggle afterwards.

“It tickles,” she said. Butterbeer was foamy and frothy and did have tiny, tiny bubbles in it from the manufacturing process, but it was nothing like a Muggle carbonated beverage.

Dan and Emma watched the two youngest Weasleys in silence, seeing them so impressed by things considered commonplace by Muggles.

Arthur could no longer contain himself. “What’s it like, Ron, Ginny?” he asked quietly; he knew he didn’t want to draw attention to himself surrounded by the rest of the lunch crowd. “How does it feel? What does it taste like? How long does the bubbling last?”

Harry looked over at Dan and saw the look of amusement on his face too. He fished a quid out of his pocket and handed it to Arthur.

“Go up. When the girl asks you what you want, tell her you want a 99p drink,” Harry told him. “Give her the coin. She’ll give you your cup and a penny back in change. Then go over and get your drink. You watched how we filled the cups, right?”

“Which kind do I get?” Arthur asked, almost nervously.

“Whichever one you want,” Harry replied. “Try the Sprite. We all got Coke, so you could try something different. I’m sure Ron would be willing to share some of his Mega-size drink with you.” Ron looked up at Harry scandalized.

Harry watched from his seat as Arthur, coin in hand, nervously walked up to the cashier. He saw him place his order and then hand over the coin. The cashier then handed him his change and receipt, and then his cup (he appeared quite fascinated by the receipt too). Arthur approached the ice machine with trepidation, got some after a moment of hesitation, and then finally filled his cup. He then presumably went to grab a lid and straw. Harry couldn’t see them from the angle he was sitting.

Looking even more excited than the ten-year olds in Fred and George’s shop, Arthur Weasley successfully returned from his first ever Muggle soft drink purchase. Harry did notice however, that there was one slight hitch: he returned with eight straws.

“You only need one, Dad,” Ginny pointed out.

“I know,” he replied, then began to look guilty. “I just wanted to take some extra ones home with me.”

Harry and the Grangers let out a small laugh; Ron and Ginny shook their heads in disbelief.

It was a good thing Harry had ordered the Mega-size upgrade for Ron’s meal. He finished all of his food at about the same time as everyone else. Harry and Ginny both had to smack Ron’s hand away from taking the last of their chips. Ron was most disappointed when he reached the bottom of his Mega-size cup. It quickly changed to ecstasy when Harry informed him he was allowed to get a refill to take with him.

Finally, lunch was finished, and after dumping their garbage (Harry observed Arthur pocketing all of the unused ketchup sachets), they returned to the street outside. Sitting on a bench on the other side of the street was an elderly woman, tossing bread crumbs to about a dozen pigeons in front of her.

Harry didn’t remember much of that movie that had been on television all those years ago, but he did remember parts of two of the songs, which both incidentally mentioned tuppence. He remembered them, probably because they advocated doing things that served no useful purpose, in Vernon’s opinion.

Suddenly flooded with the memory of several of the famous lines from those two songs, Harry reached back into his pocket and dug out the twopence. He showed it to Dan.

“Should we go feed the birds?” Harry asked, then nodded his head towards the woman on the other side of the street. Since the coin in his hand wasn’t the tuppence from the song, Harry’s question didn’t immediately click in Dan’s mind. “Or do you want to go fly a kite?” he asked grinning.

Dan looked at the coin one more time, thoroughly confused. However once he connected the two activities together, Dan broke out in riotous laughter.

“Oh, Harry!” he belted out, clapping him on the shoulder. “That was a good one. It took me a minute to figure it out,” he said as he took the commonplace coin and looked at it fondly, as if seeing the old coin.

“Wow,” he sighed. “It’s been what, twenty-five years, since the switch?” Dan asked Emma in amazement.

“Yeah,” Emma confirmed. “It was the day after Valentine’s Day, a Monday... in second year.” Hermione could hear the emphases her mother placed and noticed the subtle grin she shot Dan. She really hoped that wasn’t the weekend her mother told her about.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Dan replied. Now Hermione was sure they weren’t talking about Decimal Day.

“Everyone running around,” Dan continued, unaware of the annoyed look on his daughter’s face, “asking, ‘How much is that in old money?’ That was fun,” he said sarcastically.

“So, we can feed the birds?” Ron asked, unaware of what everyone was talking about (the significance of the movie, of 15 February, 1971, and of the weekend before).

“Birds?” Dan asked, as he came out of his remembrance. “Oh! No... Harry was... there’s a Muggle movie, they sing about feeding birds and flying kites, all for tuppence,” Dan explained, handing Ron the twopence. “The old 2p coins... well I suppose I should say 2d. Anyway, the old two pence coins were called sometimes called tuppence. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Ron lied as he looked at the coin. “You Muggle-borns,” he said jokingly to Harry and Hermione.

Those who knew Ron well enough (i.e. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Arthur) could tell from his voice that he was just kidding, and that there was no ill will. Dan, who only knew of what Hermione had shared with him (not the most ideal picture), was not so sure.

He could see that neither his daughter nor Harry seemed the slightest bit affected by Ron’s comment, so he trusted that there was no disparagement intended. But still, it did remind him of how little he knew of Hermione’s other friends. Remembering some of their reactions in the Kwik-E-Burger, it also illustrated how little they knew of the Muggle world. An idea began to form in Dan’s head.

As the seven of them started to head back towards the Underground Station where they’d go their separate ways, Dan allowed himself to fall back slightly, bringing Emma with him. He whispered his idea to his wife to get her opinion.

When she readily agreed, he tapped Arthur (who was also behind the four teenagers) on the shoulder. After he pulled back also, Dan asked his permission for what he had in mind. Arthur instantly agreed, though it was obvious he was envious.

When they reached the entrance to the Underground, the group stopped. Before Dan could announce his idea, Harry turned to Arthur.

“Mr. Weasley. Did you say that you were going in to Ministry today?” Arthur nodded. “Well, Madam Bones said that we could stop by when we had some free time to pick up our awards. I was thinking, if we had some free time...” Harry asked, looking at Hermione and Emma who both nodded, “that we could go now.

“I really don’t remember how to get to the visitor’s entrance,” he admitted, “so I was wondering that if you, Ron, and Ginny were going there, that maybe we could come too?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Harry,” Arthur exclaimed. “It’ll give your parents a chance,” he then directed to Hermione, “to see a little more of our world.” He then shot Dan a grin (which all of the teenagers saw but none understood).

“Okay everyone, back to The Leaky Cauldron!” Arthur directed. “We can Floo in from there.”

“Can Muggles use the Floo Network?” Harry asked. “I’ve never heard anything about it said either way.”

“Of course they can,” Hermione answered readily. “The magic is in the network and the powder, so anyone can use it. The only possible problem might be them knowing when to get out at the right grate.”

“Covered on that one, Hermione,” Arthur replied. “Since Ron and Ginny are not Ministry employees, we have to use the visitor’s Floo entrance. There’s only one grate there.”

While they waited for The Leaky Cauldron to reappear, Harry’s eyes wandered across the windows of the record shop next to the pub. They were filled with signs announcing the latest releases, adverts offering to “Turn your records into CDs,” and even posters of various musical groups. There would be no posters of the Weird Sisters at this store.

After everyone greeted Tom hello again, Arthur asked permission to use his fireplace to visit the Ministry. Now facing a lunch time crowd (it was around just after one o’clock by now), Harry again had to weave his way through the greetings.

Finally they found themselves in front of a fireplace in a back room. Arthur took a small pot filled with glittering powder off of a small shelf next to the hearth.

Arthur quickly explained the basics of Floo travel to Dan and Emma; Harry noticed Hermione was paying close attention as well. Has she ever used the Floo before? he wondered.

“Harry, Hermione, why don’t you two go last?” Arthur suggested. “After her parents... you know, to bring up the back, as the Muggles say.”

“Bring up the rear,” Hermione corrected him; Arthur smiled and nodded to himself, making a mental note.

“Remember, speak clearly,” Arthur reminded them. “As long as you do, you’ll be fine. There’s only one grate there.” He then stepped up to the fireplace, took a pinch of Floo powder, and threw it into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose all the way to the top of the hearth. Arthur then stepped into the fire, shouted, “Ministry of Magic Visitor’s Entrance!” and was gone.

Dan and Emma, already squeamish at the sight of him standing in the middle of a fire, jumped when he vanished. Next Ron repeated the scene, then Ginny. Finally it was Dan and Emma’s turn.

“Just remember what Mr. Weasley said,” Hermione told her parents confidently. “Speak clearly, eyes closed, elbows in. When you feel yourself stop, open your eyes and step out of the fireplace on the other end.”

“And try not to kick up any ash when you step into the fire,” Harry added, remembering his first time using Floo powder. “It’s easier to speak if you don’t swallow the ash,” he said grinning.

Dan nodded meekly, took some powder from the pot that Harry was now holding and stepped up to the fireplace. He threw it in; the flames roared to life again. Taking a deep breath first, he then stepped into the fire and shouted out his destination. The fire consumed him and he too was gone.

“Give him a couple extra moments to arrive and step out,” Hermione suggested, again sounding confident. More nervous than she’d ever been in her life, Emma nodded and reached into the pot, repeating exactly everything Dan did. Just in case he did something wrong, she was determined to follow him there, wherever he went.

When her mother disappeared, Hermione let out the breath she’d been holding. “Our turn,” she said, now not sounding so confident.

“Ever used the Floo before?” Harry asked. He was beginning to suspect that her confidence was merely a show for her parents’ benefit. Hermione shook her head.

“Thought not,” Harry said. He then repeated her instructions for her parents back to her, word for word. In her simplified form, they were easy to remember.

“Just remember what Hermione said,” he teased her, “speak clearly, eyes closed, elbows in. When you feel yourself stop, open your eyes and step out of the fireplace on the other end.”

“Git,” she teased back.

“Yeah, but you love me for it.” Since it was an expression, Harry really hadn’t intended it to be any sort of test. He did immensely enjoy saying it however.

“Yeah, I do,” she replied, not looking at him as she stared at the fireplace. She knew it was just an expression, so she really didn’t expect it to mean anything. She did immensely enjoy saying it however.

Another roar of the fireplace, and Harry was left in the back room of The Leaky Cauldron alone. Returning the pot to the shelf, he took his own pinch of powder and stood in front of the fireplace apprehensively. Harry wasn’t sure which he liked less: Floo powder or Portkey.

Harry arrived in the Ministry of Magic Visitor’s (Floo) Entrance in a much more dignified manner than he had in Borgin and Burkes four years earlier. He stepped out of the fireplace to find everyone tidying up. A few quick cleaning charms and they were all good as new.

The visitor’s Floo entrance turned out to be little more than a plain room, empty except for a fireplace on one side and a door on the other. As they approached the door, Harry noticed a small slot next to it. Arthur knocked on the door. Harry immediately heard the same cool female voice he’d heard in the telephone-box before.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, escorting visitors,” he identified himself, then looked at Harry.

“Harry Potter, to visit the Minister of Magic,” Harry said. The remaining ‘visitors’ similarly identified themselves.

“Thank you,” replied the bodiless voice. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry was not surprised to see six silver badges slide down into the slot next to the door. Arthur, being the closest, grabbed them and handed them out. Harry looked at his: Harry Potter, Minister’s business. He pinned it to the front of his school shirt.

“I bet with Fudge around, they had these stamped en masse,” Harry quipped, causing everyone to laugh.

“Only if you could afford one,” Hermione replied.

“Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” chimed the voice, and the door opened.

Harry, being the last one through the door was consequentially the last to see where they’d arrived. This looked very familiar. Harry turned around to find that they’d just walked through the same doorway that he had when he’d used the telephone-box entrance. He was about to ask how that was possible when he realized he already knew the answer: it was magic.

The party of seven made their way toward the security desk at the far end of the Atrium. As they walked past it, Harry noticed that the fountain and gold statues looked exactly as they had the first time he’d seen them. There wasn’t any trace that the statues had been running around in the middle of a battle.

Sitting at the security desk was the watchwizard in peacock blue robes, reading the Daily Prophet. Harry half wondered if someone could just walk by him unnoticed. When they approached, he set down his paper and looked up at them. It was the same watchwizard Harry met the first time, Eric Munch. He looked as just as bored (and badly-shaven) today as he did a year ago.

Though Arthur stepped forward, Eric’s attention immediately turned to Harry.

“Escorting some visitors today, Eric,” Arthur said.

“Not in trouble again, I hope, Mr. Potter?” Eric asked, clearly remembering him.

“No,” Harry replied coolly but politely. “We’re here to see the Minister.”

“The Minister is a very busy woman, you know?” Eric said, sounding important.

“That’s for the Minister to decide,” Arthur said firmly.

“Yes, of course,” Eric replied, obviously deflated. “Step forward,” he said gruffly.

Harry did so and Eric picked up his aerial-like golden rod to perform the standard scan. He also examined the bag containing Harry’s purchases.

“Wand,” he said, bored. Harry submitted it. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather, five years?” he asked in an uninterested voice after reading the slip of parchment that came out of the scale-like brass instrument on which he’d set Harry’s wand.

“Next,” Eric called as he kept the parchment and retuned the wand. He then repeated the procedure on Hermione, Ron, and Ginny as well (he made sure to give Ron’s drink cup an extra scan).

Arthur interrupted right before Eric started with Dan. “They’re Muggles, actually,” he explained.

“Muggles?” Eric asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, “they’re Miss Granger’s parents.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied, clearly not caring. Since they were non-magical and did not have wands, it clearly meant that there was nothing they could possibly do to cause trouble. He did perform his scan on both of them however since they could’ve been carrying a magical device.

A few moments later, they were in front of the lifts, waiting for an empty one so they could all ride together. A number of paper airplane memos followed them inside. Though no one else got on (because it was full with seven), the lift stopped at each level to allow memos on and off. The cool female voice noted the levels as they rose. Level Seven.

At Level Five, Arthur decided it was time to inform his two youngest children of Dan’s offer.

“So, youngest Weasleys,” he began excitedly, “did either of you have any plans for tonight?”

“No,” both Ron and Ginny replied unenthusiastically.

Level Four.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were wondering if the two of you would like to spend the night at their house tonight!”

Ginny squealed in delight and Ron clapped Harry on the back and said something to the effect of “Cool!”

Level Three.

“So... I take it you two would like to come over?” Emma asked with a large grin.

“I guess that’s settled then,” Dan noted right as Ginny just let out another SQUEE and Ron nodded enthusiastically.

“Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

“First stop everyone,” Arthur told them. The four memos destined for this level zoomed out as soon as the lift doors opened. As they walked past the rows and rows of cubicles that was the Auror Headquarters, Harry noticed that it seemed exactly the same as it did a year ago.

The open area was again buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos continued to zoom from one cubicle to the next. All around him, Aurors were doing their jobs. This time however, they were looking for Voldemort, not Sirius.

As he walked by one of the cubicles, Harry caught sight of something familiar out of the corner of his eye. Stopping and going back to look through the open doorway, Harry saw one of Sirius’s old “Wanted” posters on the wall, with a large, red X hand-drawn across it. When he was close enough, he could see that there was no one in the office, however items laying about suggested they were merely away from their desk.

Almost as if he expected Harry to see it, Arthur immediately came back to grab Harry and keep moving toward his office.

“Not now, Harry,” Arthur asked. Harry started to open his mouth, however he didn’t get the chance to start speaking. “I know. I have to walk by it every day too,” he said sincerely. “Give the Minister a chance... it won’t happen overnight.” Harry relented.

Soon they ran into Kingsley Shacklebolt near the back of the office. Again, he and Arthur spoke as though they only knew each other in an office setting.

“Afternoon, Weasley,” Kingsley greeted him. “Can’t get enough of this place that you’re coming in on your days off now?” he asked in a tone of voice that sounded like he was implying Arthur was just ‘trying to look good for the boss.’

“Actually, Shacklebolt,” Arthur replied coolly, “I was just here to pick up a few personal items that I wanted to take home but forgot yesterday.”

“Well, since you’re here, would you mind taking a look at this?” Kingsley asked as he led them all down to Arthur’s office. Harry always did feel that Arthur’s office was little more than a refurbished broom cupboard. Well, if it was the case, then Arthur had moved up in the world... slightly. He was now in the larger broom cupboard on the opposite side of the hallway. The “office” was larger, but the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts brass plaque was still tarnished.

“Arthur, how are you?” Kingsley asked in a friendly tone now that he was out of earshot of everyone else in the office. After Arthur replied in the positive, Kingsley looked at his six traveling companions. “Taking the whole gang on the Ministry tour, are we?” he asked grinning. He then reached out to shake Harry’s hand.

“And you two are...” Kingsley continued as he turned to Dan and Emma, looking at their badges, “Miss Granger’s parents. I’m honored to meet you. Quite the natural fighter your daughter can be,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad she’s on our side.”

“So are we,” Emma replied with a laugh.

“So, what brings you down here today, Arthur, besides Minister’s business?” Kingsley joked.

“Well, in a minute, we’re going to go up to talk to the Minister. She’s going to give you know who,” Arthur said, nodding head towards the four teenagers, “the you know whats for what they did you know where, you know when.”

“If it hasn’t been said yet, then congratulations to all of you,” Kingsley said quietly. “I think you all deserve it.”

“But first,” Arthur continued, “I just wanted to stop by and pick something up. I found one of those... ele-tronic Muggle watches last week. It still works, at least when I get it away from here, so I wanted to take it home so I could take it apart to see how it worked.”

“Really?” Kingsley asked, trying to sound interested. “You know, Thrace, down at the other end, she’s Muggle-born. You might ask her about it first before you take it apart. Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to take something apart?” he asked knowingly.

Arthur didn’t reply.

“I told you that ‘No user serviceable parts’ meant what it sounded like,” Kingsley reminded him.

Arthur went over to his desk and retrieved the digital watch from a drawer, while at the same time depositing the straws and ketchup sachets he’d brought back from the Kwik-E-Burger.

He stared at the watch for a moment, debating whether he’d interrupt someone while they were working. But... it was an ele-tronic watch! He just had to know how it worked.

“What’s her name?” Arthur asked.

“Kara.”

“All right kids, you can just sit right here. I’ll be back in two minutes,” Arthur told them. He returned twenty-five minutes later.

* * *

“Level One, Minister’s Office and Administration,” the voice announced before the doors opened. As they disembarked, a score of outgoing memos flocked into the lift. Walking past rows and rows of cubicles, Harry and everyone else walked up to the secretary outside the Minister’s office.

“May I help you?” he asked in a very friendly and courteous voice. Harry felt Arthur nudge him discreetly. This was Harry’s show, after all.

“Yes. Harry Potter and several others to see Madam Bones, please,” Harry replied in an equally friendly voice.

“Did you have an appointment?” the secretary asked innocently as he looked down at a day planner.

“Erm, no, but Madam Bones told me this morning to just stop by when we had some free time. She said to have you tell her we were here, and that we could just wait for her.”

“Very well,” the secretary replied, again very courteous. Almost no one, other than Albus Dumbledore of course, ever showed up and just expected to meet with the Minister. It was simply assumed by all that you needed an appointment.

He had no reason to believe what Mr. Potter had told him, but he had no reason not to either. He knew though that that wasn’t his decision to make. Though he’d only had this job since Madam Bones replaced Cornelius Fudge, he already knew that much, to be sure.

If the Minister did not tell Mr. Potter (who he knew very well from the papers) such a thing, then he and his friends would be sitting there waiting for a very long time. And if they refused to leave at closing time, the watchwizards were always just a wristwatch-tap away.

Bloody clever invention, the secretary thought to himself. Hurts like hell though. I really shouldn’t have had so much butterbeer at lunch. Maybe I can sneak off to the toilet if they go in.

“If I could just get all of your names,” the secretary asked, “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

The secretary wrote their names down on a piece of parchment that appeared to be adhered to the surface of his desk, along with a note saying that they were here to see her. Harry watched as the ink was absorbed into the paper and disappeared.

When good magic goes bad, Harry thought to himself, recalling another time he witnessed writing on a page disappear like that.

The secretary then tapped his wand to a miniature golden chair that was sitting on his desk. Seven chairs suddenly appeared along a wall. He then waved his hand towards them to indicate they could sit down and wait.

Harry was pleasantly surprised. They only had to wait about half an hour to see the Minister. Considering they showed up unannounced and unexpected, he thought that was pretty good. He’d kept himself occupied by unshrinking his new Defense textbook and looking through it.

Ron looked at him funny for reading a textbook, but Harry just shrugged his shoulders. What else was he going to do? Just stare at the ceiling and watch the memos fly around like Ron did? When he showed him that it was the Defense book he was reading, Ron nodded his head in grudging acceptance.

“Well, I guess that isn’t so bad,” Ron decided. “Least you’re not reading Potions.” Harry shuddered and shook his head in agreement with Ron’s sentiment. With all of the office chatter around him, he wasn’t able to read much, but what he did read made him very curious about who their new Defense professor would be.

It was obvious that whoever selected this book knew what they were doing. They knew what was involved in the fight against the Dark Arts. Harry had jokingly said to himself earlier that virtually anyone the Headmaster selected would be able teach it effectively. Coming from a year of Umbridge, that wasn’t saying much. However, if this book was any indication, this new person had some tremendous potential.

A small chime sounded. “Mr. Potter,” the secretary called. “You may go in now.” The group stood up to see six witches and wizards come filing out of the Minister’s office, half looking very pleased, the other half not so pleased.

Madam Bones was the last one out of her office. She greeted Harry warmly when she saw him.

“Harry, Harry. Nice to see you again. I must say, you do work rather quickly, stopping by only hours later. But, no matter, no matter.

“Arthur!” she then turned her attention as she led them into her office. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to speak with you earlier, but I was on a rather tight timetable. How are things down in the Misuse office?” she asked.

“Slow, actually, but we’re hoping that’s a good sign...” Arthur said, allowing his voice to trail off.

“My feelings exactly,” Amelia said as she closed the door. Though she did nothing, Harry heard it make the same odd squelching sound as when Hermione sealed the doors in the Department of Mysteries with Colloportus.

Amelia noticed that Harry’s attention was drawn to the door and she smiled. “Ah, did you catch that, Harry?” she asked. “Seals the door and prevents eavesdropping. Dear Cornelius had that charm installed, I suspect, when he was working on some of his more... creative endeavors,” she explained, nodding towards a small table behind her desk upon which sat four separate stacks of files sealed with different colored ribbons; red, green, blue, and black.

“But, we aren’t interested into forays into financial fine print, now are we?” she asked with a grin. “No, we are interested in getting you properly cited for your actions last June,” she said as she sat down at her desk. A small, white cardboard box suddenly appeared on top.

“I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” she asked as she reached for the box. Opening it, she reached in and pulled out half of a sandwich as well as a goblet and pitcher of pumpkin juice. She immediately took two bites of the sandwich, poured herself a goblet, and took a large drink. Harry’s eyes widened in regret. It was nearly two o’clock, after all.

“I’m sorry Minister,” Harry apologized. “We can come back...” After getting her first few bites down (and a look of relief appeared on her face), she held up her hand to stop him.

“That’s quite all right, Harry,” she assured him. “My days are pretty full right now, so since you’re here now, we’ll do it now. Though I may sneak in a couple bites between awards. Pumpkin juice, anyone?” she offered. Everyone declined (Ron was still working on the last of his Mega-sized drink).

“Now, before we get to the fun part,” Amelia began, “I have something more important that I would like to discuss with all of you first.” She then paused for several moments and took a deep breath. Her entire demeanor changed. She seemed hesitant to bring up whatever she had to.

“I recently had a discussion with your headmaster about the events that occurred here in June,” she began, addressing the four of them; they all listened carefully. “As you know, the version of events that was reported to the Daily Prophet was woefully incomplete. It made no mention at all of what the six of you did.

“As you may recall,” she directed to Harry, “you were only mentioned in the form of non-retraction retractions of everything bad they’d printed about you, as well as the reprint of your interview from The Quibbler.

“After reading the debriefings of nearly a dozen Aurors who arrived after it was all over, and comparing them to the reports from the Order members who were there, I noticed a very interesting, though very obvious, detail. It turns out,” she continued, “that no one who was not actually down in the Department of Mysteries that night knows exactly what happened, nor do they know who exactly was there.”

Madam Bones fixed Harry with a heavy stare before continuing. “What that means is that the only people who know the full truth of what happened, and of who was there, are those who WERE there, aside from myself and Mr. Scrimgeour, of course, since he’s head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry could feel something begin to form in the back of his mind. Something about what she was saying had very important implications. He could feel it, but it was just still out of reach.

“Miss Granger,” Amelia asked, “have you discussed with anyone the entire truth about what happened that night... anyone who did not already know?”

“No, Madam Bones. No one other than Harry,” she replied. She then stopped for a moment and stared blankly, lost in thought. A guilty look appeared on her face. “And my parents,” she added finally. “I didn’t talk to them about it, but I did write to Harry about what happened that night, and I showed it to them. And the Headmaster, but he already knows.” Hermione appeared upset with herself.

But to everyone’s surprise, Madam Bones actually smiled. “So, they know the truth, but only because they were told by someone who was there?” she confirmed. Hermione nodded.

It suddenly clicked in Harry’s mind; he actually snapped his fingers when it did. “Voldemort and his Death Eaters were there too, that night,” he observed.

“The Death Eaters captured that night have not been in contact with anyone since their arrest and conviction,” Amelia said, then nodded, encouraging Harry to continue.

“But Voldemort and Bellatrix escaped,” Harry reminded everyone. Amelia continued to nod. “So if no one on our side tells anyone the truth about what happened, then anyone who does know... will have to’ve gotten that information directly from Voldemort or Bella.”

A large smile broke out across the Minister’s face. “All Order members have volunteered to remain silent about what happened that night. We hope that containment on our side will reveal leaks on their side. If someone knows too much, then they’ll have to explain how they got that information.”

“Is that why you wanted to have a private awarding ceremony?” Harry asked the Minister.

“Yes, Harry. I wanted to be able to show you that your efforts were invaluable, however I didn’t want knowledge of those events to become public. At least, not yet... not until this is all over.”

“So, essentially, you want us to sign off on Fudge’s version of what happened that night?” Harry asked.

“Sign off on it? No. Volunteer to not add to it? Yes,” the Minister clarified. “I’m the first to admit that his version has robbed you of a little positive publicity. It has however provided us with a possible opportunity to reveal spies lurking in our midst. Again, if they know too much, I’d be interested to learn where they got that knowledge.”

Harry thought about it for a few seconds. “I can’t speak for anyone else here, but I can honestly say that the last thing I need or want right now is more publicity. You have my promise to not say anything, Minister,” Harry pledged.

Neville, Harry thought to himself, recalling that he’d asked him to write an account of what happened. He’d owl him straight away as soon as he got home to tell him to stop. He then saw Hermione look at him with a note of concern. He knew that she too was thinking about Neville. He nodded slightly to let her know it was already taken care of.

Everyone else, including Dan, Emma, and Arthur, all agreed to remain silent about what really happened in the Department of Mysteries that night.

“Excellent,” Madam Bones said as she stood up to shake their hands again. She then opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a small wooden box. Coming back around to the front of the desk, she set the box down, and opened it. She pulled out a small bronze medal that hung from a red ribbon then turned around to face Harry.

“Due to your selfless acts of bravery on the evening of 18 June and morning of 19 June of this year, I, Minister of Magic, Amelia Susan Bones, am honored to award you, Harry James Potter, an Order of Merlin, Third Class. Congratulations,” she said, then reached out to shake his hand.

After doing so, she handed Harry his award, rather than putting it around his neck. Unfortunately, remaining silent about that night also meant remaining silent about the awards... for now.

Harry returned to his seat and began to think about what she’d said, about restricting information to try to reveal spies. As he sat there and watched Madam Bones present the rest the awards, he couldn’t help it, but he began tune her out. Thinking about the plan, he began to feel anxious.

He really didn’t care whether he got public credit for helping with the capture of the Death Eaters. The captured Death Eaters. His thoughts were dwelling on them. They’d been locked up there in Azkaban for nearly a month and a half now. They hadn’t spoken to anyone. No one knew what they knew or saw that night.

This was risky. Very risky. Everything depended on this working. Well, not everything, But it certainly would make things a whole lot easier if it did work. There were so many things that could go wrong, but if it worked...

The more he thought about it, the more his anticipation grew. He could feel it building. Whatever it was, it was almost within reach. It felt like he was simply waiting for the right moment, when everything would fall into place.

Just as Harry felt as though his anticipation would burst, a tiny buzz was heard coming from the top of the Minister’s desk as she shook Hermione’s hand. Everyone looked to the source of the noise and saw a wristwatch sitting there. Harry recognized it immediately.

“Truth be told, as useful as they are, I rather don’t like those wristwatches of Auror Tonks’. She is right about one thing, they do sting something fierce when they activate,” she said grinning. A moment later, a piece of parchment similar to that from the “wand scale” at the security desk came out of a small box on her desk.

“Ah, that must be Mr. Scrimgeour, making his report, no doubt. Remember that appointment I mentioned at Azkaban with Mr. Malfoy?” she asked Harry, then looked at he clock. “It was scheduled to begin right about now.”

“Did you want to get that?” Harry asked. The unexpected interruption from the wristwatch caused all of Harry’s anticipation to vanish. His stomach had been so knotted that as his mind cleared, he felt so relieved that things were the way they were supposed to be. He suppressed a smile. He still didn’t know what exactly he’d been so focused on, but it felt so much better that the anxiety was gone.

In fact, it felt really good. He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel an odd soaring sensation in his stomach, as though he was flying... that everything was going according to plan. It was wonderful. All that waiting, the build up, it was finally paying off.

“In a minute,” Madam Bones replied. “We just have two of you left.”

As she began to present Ron his award, Harry was only vaguely aware that Madam Bones was still talking. But he didn’t care. Everything would be all right now. He just knew it.

After a few minutes however, that happy feeling began to fluctuate. He didn’t know if there was something wrong exactly, but something wasn’t adding up. He could feel it. Just like how a sweet fragrance could become sickly sweet, so too did his pleasure shift into some kind of sickly-happy feeling. A slightly queasy reaction to that feeling began to develop in Harry’s stomach.

Something was wrong. There was a problem. How could this happen? All of that work... all of that planning... it was all falling apart. Harry began to get frustrated. It began to intensify his queasy feeling. He was starting to feel nauseous. While still staring blankly at the Minister, Harry subtly held his arms to his stomach in hopes of settling himself. Hopefully he could ride this out. Hopefully things could still turn out.

There was another slight buzz from the Minister’s watch. He still wasn’t hearing her words, but he did see that she’d stopped talking for a moment to look curiously at the watch. Harry could feel his frustration rapidly shift to anger. Everything was falling apart. The Minister reached over to grab the second slip of parchment that came out of the box, as well as pick up the first one she hadn’t read yet.

She looked at the first slip of parchment, bringing her monocle up to her eye so she could read it clearly; her face paled. Harry was now furious. Everything was ruined! Could no one follow instructions? It was such a simple plan. Harry’s stomach was positively roiling by now; he was quite certain he would lose his lunch soon if it didn’t stop. He clutched his stomach even more tightly and bent over in his chair.

“What is it, Minister?” Harry vaguely heard Arthur ask.

“Harry? Harry? Are you all right?” he heard Hermione ask.

Harry suddenly screamed out in agony. Pain he’d only felt when inhabited by Voldemort in the Atrium erupted from his scar. His hand instinctively went to clutch his forehead, but it made no difference. Harry felt himself fall to the ground in the middle of the Minister’s office.

Though his eyes were squeezed shut, he could see a brilliant dazzle of light and color, caused by the intense stress his body was under. Every muscle was clenched tight as he writhed in anguish. Harry suddenly had a vision. He knew his eyes were closed, but he could still see. He saw the image of a dark and foreboding castle or fortress. All around it he could see dark and light shadows.

He had no idea what he was looking at, but what he saw enraged him. Trying to get his bearings, Harry forced his eyes open, to try to see where he was. He knew he was still the office, but he knew he was somewhere else too.

As he opened his eyes, he saw the floor... but it was sideways... he was lying on his side. There was a pair of knees in front of him. He could see both images simultaneously, the office, the fortress, one overlapping the other. The conflicting images began to make him dizzy.

And just like that, as quickly as it started, the pain in his scar vanished completely. All of the emotions rolling through him did as well. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was cold; he was drenched in sweat. The moisture evaporating in the cool office air made him feel so cold. He felt a pair of warm arms envelop him, helping him sit up. Harry tried to focus. He was now sitting upright. The warm arms were still holding him tightly.

And he was still nauseous. The sudden disappearance of the pain caused a powerful wave of relief to wash over him. That, combined with his nausea and the gentle rocking motion he was now feeling, finally caused Harry to lose the battle against his stomach. Everything went away after that.

Harry regained consciousness a few minutes later. The first thing he noticed was that he was still being held protectively by the same warm arms. The second thing he noticed was a strong acrid smell. He immediately grabbed hold of the arms that were around him and held tight onto them. His head was still spinning.

“Harry?”

“Harry?”

Harry finally opened his eyes. All he saw were feet and the bottoms of legs. He looked up to see everyone standing around him, looking at him in fear and concern. Everyone that is, except Hermione. He couldn’t see her. She was gone. He began to panic. He tried to stand up, but the arms held him down.

He looked down to see his stomach contents spread out on the floor in front of him. And on the sleeve of the person holding him. He recognized that sleeve. He’d seen it before. In fact, he’d seen it all day since they left Madam Malkin’s.

“Hermione!” Harry called out.

“Yes,” he heard her reply gently just behind his ear. She was holding him. He grabbed hold of her vomit-covered arm even tighter. Right now, he didn’t care if he fancied her or not. He didn’t care if anyone saw him hold her. Hell, he didn’t care if she was married to Viktor-bloody-Krum right now. All he cared about was knowing that she was there, to feel her presence. All he needed was to hold on to her... if only for a moment.

“VOLDEMORT!” Harry gasped out, tightening his grip on her arm even further. “Something’s happened! He’s furious!”

“We know, Harry,” she said soothingly behind him. “The dementors have attacked Azkaban.”

---

A/N: Whew! Twenty-nine pages! Longest chapter yet. Just a couple final notes.

I’ve never said this in an official Author’s Note, but I have many times in replies to reviews. Harry and Hermione will not be getting together until after school starts. That is why the month of August will fly by so quickly. July 31 and August 1 are the most important days, which is why I have spent so much time on them.

The rest of the month will be them “playing their games,” testing the waters (along with at least one more surprise). And we don’t need to see that in such detail. He only realized his feelings “yesterday” and she’s hidden her for two years. They won’t become a couple on August 2.

So, the point of that is since the month will fly by, I’m going to write it in much smaller chunks... chunks that I can publish more quickly. I’m thinking closer to ten pages rather than thirty. Please note that smaller chapters WILL NOT affect the total amount of writing that I will do. It merely means that there will be smaller updates more frequently.

---

A couple examples of Evernight’s awesome work!!

Scene from Chapter 21, in Flourish and Blotts.

Scene from Chapter 22, in Madam Malkin’s.

---

And finally, this has absolutely nothing to do with anything... other than showing what a complete dork I can be. It just made me laugh while I was tearing my hair out to get this chapter finished. I often send my beta smart-ass comments about things that I write. For example, when Emma casually moved everyone away from the mirror leaving only Harry and Hermione there, I highlighted the word “casually” and commented “YEAH RIGHT!”

So, when Ron’s ears turned bright red after buying the broom polish, this suddenly popped into my mind, so I sent it to him.

Rupert the red-eared Keeper,
Had a very shiny broom,
And if you ever saw it,
You would even say it zoomed.

One of the other Seekers,
Used to laugh and call him names,
He never thought poor Rupert,
Could ever win his games.

I stopped there, saying that I needed to get back to writing the story, not Christmas songs. My beta then turns around and sends the following back to me. Oh, it made me laugh so hard, I just had to share it with you all!

Then one soggy Quidditch match,
Evanna came to say,
“Rupert with your ears so bright,
Won’t you block the Quaffle tonight?”

Then after “Luna” kissed him,
Emma shouted out with glee,
“Rupert the red-eared Keeper,
Might just stay away from me!"

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: So many people commented on the scene in the Kwik-E-Burger! It makes me so happy... it was so much fun to write!

Well, I’ve gotten the “shorter” part down, now it’s time to work on the “faster.” Lately, chapters have been 20-30 pages every 2-3 weeks. When I first started this story, chapters were 5-10 pages every 7-10 days. That’s what I’m shooting for... to help speed us through the rest of August.

Thank you, MapleMountain, for your invaluable help and observations!

Again, similarities to Book 6 are entirely intentional... AS ARE the differences.

---

Chapter 23. Revelations.

“VOLDEMORT!” Harry gasped out, tightening his grip on her arm even further. “Something’s happened! He’s furious!”

“We know, Harry,” she said soothingly behind him. “The dementors have attacked Azkaban.”

“The dementors have attacked Azkaban?” Harry asked, though he knew it was true. He’d seen it in his mind: Azkaban. He hadn’t known it was Azkaban, but he saw it. The dark shadows he saw flying around it must’ve been the dementors. The light shadows he saw were probably Patronuses from the guards.

Harry quickly looked around the room. Everyone still wore looks of concern on their faces. Ginny appeared near tears; Ron was so pale one might think he’d been told Quidditch was canceled and the Hogwarts house elves had gone on strike. Dan and Emma appeared to be to the most affected by it however.

Harry remembered Dan telling him that he’d picked up on enough in Hermione’s letters that he knew far more happened than she told them. Harry suspected however that even if she’d told them everything, hearing about it would be nothing compared to actually seeing it first hand.

“Ron, would you...?” Hermione asked quietly as waved her hand towards the floor.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Ron mumbled as he shook his head to snap himself out of the daze he was in. He drew his wand and vanished the remnants of Harry’s lunch. With a perfect cleaning charm, the carpet was as good as new. Ginny then thoughtfully performed an air freshening charm.

“A life saving charm to know when you have six older brothers,” Ginny explained with a slight smile as she reached up brush away her unshed tears. Everyone laughed a little at that, even Ron, and this lightened the mood considerably.

Harry felt Hermione’s arms and hands apply slightly upwards pressure, encouraging him to stand. He still was slightly dizzy; he held onto her as he rose.

“What happened?” he asked once he was standing and Hermione had let go of him.

“We don’t really know yet,” the Minister replied. Harry turned his head to look at Minister Bones and found the room spinning again. He could feel that Voldemort was gone, but the double vision and the foreign thoughts and feelings flowing through him earlier created a disorientation that was hard to shake.

Behind him and seeing him wobble slightly, Hermione steadied Harry by grabbing hold of his arms so that he would not fall.

“Whatever it is, it is still going on,” the Minister continued. Her hands tightened around the two slips of parchment that came out of the box on her desk. “So far, we’ve received only two communications. The first, from Mr. Scrimgeour, a very brief one saying merely ‘dementor attack.’ The second was a few minutes later from the Aurors arriving there, confirming the attack.”

“And?” Harry asked impatiently. He then felt Hermione, who was still holding onto him, squeeze his arm ever so lightly. He didn’t mean to be rude, but the suddenness of the situation, the gravity of it, had him wound tightly.

“Has there been any update?” he asked much more calmly.

“No,” Madam Bones replied, “but that’s to be expected if they’re in the middle of a fight.”

Harry nodded. He needed to sit down. The pain was gone, the dizziness was gone, but he was weak, tired. The writhing of his muscles when he was on the floor had exhausted him.

“I need to sit down,” he said as he headed for the nearest chair. Hermione let go of him to allow him to walk but followed, sitting down beside him. Right as he sat, his stomach let out a very loud growl, followed by a gurgle. He was no longer nauseous; now he was simply hungry. His stomach had been emptied, after all.

Harry could see that everyone else had heard it too and was looking at him oddly. He realized that it was entirely possible that the noise his stomach made was such that it might have been interpreted as something else.

“That was my stomach, I swear,” he assured them. Everyone laughed.

“Well, at least you didn’t try to blame it on your owl,” Ginny said to Harry with a grin.

“Hey!” Ron complained. “What is this? ‘Take-the-Mickey-Out-of-Ron’ Day?”

“Ginny never said it was you,” Hermione pointed out to him with a smile. “You just implicated yourself.”

Ron thought about it for a second. “Damn it,” he swore, then thought for another moment. “In that case, it was Fred!” Everyone began to laugh again.

“Fred does not have an owl,” Ginny reminded him smugly. Ron did not try for a third.

“Blimey, Harry. Are you hungry again? We all just ate!” Ron teased, trying to change the subject. Harry was very relieved that Hermione had laughed at all the jokes. Though he tried to hide it, he was absolutely mortified that... she’d been caught in the line of fire.

“Minister, do you have a cafeteria or tearoom here, somewhere where I can get something for Harry to eat?” Emma asked.

“Oh, yes. It’s down off of the Atrium. The doorway’s near the fountain. Would you like me to have something sent up for you?” she offered.

“Oh, no thank you,” Emma graciously declined. “I’ll go get it. A brief walk will help settle my nerves,” she explained. She then looked at her daughter. “Hermione, dear, would you like to come with me to get something to eat?”

“No,” Hermione politely, but firmly, declined. Harry was completely caught by surprise by her reply. Though she was nice about it, he’d never heard her say no to her mother like that before.

The only thing that surprised him more was that Emma did not at all seem surprised or upset by her daughter’s response. In fact, she actually nodded her acceptance (though maybe not approval) of her decision. Emma then turned to Ginny.

“Ginny, would you care to show me the way?” she asked hopefully. “Besides, it’ll give me a chance to get to know one of my daughter’s other best friends a little better without all the men around... woman to woman.”

Ginny turned to look at her father, silently asking his permission. Arthur turned to look at Harry; Ginny saw and followed his gaze. Both appeared to be asking him the same thing: was it safe for them go down?

Harry tried to concentrate his focus on every sensation he’d ever felt or associated with Voldemort. There was nothing... just like it had been for weeks. Harry nodded back to Arthur and Ginny.

Emma took hold of Ginny’s hand as they headed for the door, which opened before them. As they walked out, Ginny asked loudly, obviously for all to hear, “So, Mrs. Granger. What’s the most embarrassing thing Hermione’s ever done?”

As the door closed behind them, an anxious Hermione looked at her father. “She wouldn’t tell her, would she?” she asked Dan, sounding somewhat mortified.

“Nah,” he replied; Hermione nodded then looked down at the floor, relieved. Dan then shot Harry a quick wink. “At least I don’t think she would,” he added. Hermione’s head shot up.

Before she could say anything though, a soft, pleasant chime rang, similar to the one they heard before entering the Minister’s office.

Madam Bones walked over to her desk at looked at another piece of parchment that was adhered to the top. After reading it, she picked up her wand and flicked it towards her door, opening it.

“He’s here,” she said with a smile, sounding relieved. “A new record, I do believe.”

In to the Minister of Magic’s office strode the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore. The door closed behind him. Rather than the robes of varying color that he always usually wore however, today Harry’s headmaster wore the plum-colored robes with the ornate silver ‘W’ of the Wizengamot.

“My apologies, Minister, for not being here sooner,” Albus greeted Madam Bones, shaking her hand. “However when one of the young Aurors in the room blurted out where he was off to in such a hurry, you’d think that more than a few of my esteemed colleagues appeared quite flustered by the news. If one were so inclined to believe, one might even suspect they were panicked.

“I however am quite secure in the belief that they merely ate something that did not agree with them, and were most anxious to depart to avail themselves of the facilities,” Dumbledore continued as he looked at Harry, the usual twinkle in his eye as bright as ever.

“And speaking of what goes down must come up,” he continued as he put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “I saw Mrs. Granger and Miss Weasley fetching you a replacement meal as I was speaking with the Minister’s assistant,” Dumbledore said, turning back to the Minister.

“Promising young man, Minister. Graduated, what, three years ago? Class of ’93. Prefect in fifth and sixth years, and if I was forced to render an honest opinion, quite possibly the best Head Boy we’ve had in the last fifteen years,” he continued, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

“All in all, an ideal student and the perfect representative,” he said as he turned a weighted stare to Harry, “of the House of Slytherin.” Dumbledore then turned to make greetings to Hermione, Dan, Ron, and Arthur.

“I confess: I do so enjoy visiting here, seeing so many former students. The day I am remembered more for my less important job,” he continued, tilting his head in such as way as if he was admitting he really was wearing Wizengamot robes, “will be a sad one indeed.”

Dumbledore’s mood then became serious. “What news have you, Minister?”

“Very little, I’m afraid,” she admitted, sitting back down behind her desk wearily, still clutching the slips of parchment. “I received word of the attack from Rufus not even ten minutes ago, followed a few minutes later by confirmation from the Aurors arriving on scene. As of this moment, nearly the entire Auror division is out there on the island. I am waiting for an update.”

“All the Aurors?” Harry interrupted in worry. “What if it’s a trick, to draw everyone away from here?”

“Which is why the entire Magical Law Enforcement division has been mobilized here within the Ministry building,” Amelia assured Harry. “Of course, to avoid a panic, they all think it’s one of my bloody annoying drills,” she explained, obviously quoting someone. “The end result’s the same though.”

Harry nodded and began to think about it. The Minister seemed to have done everything she could. The Aurors had been dispatched (whilst he was unconscious, presumably), and the entire building was on alert... quietly, but on the alert, nonetheless.

“Have you any idea of what is happening, Albus?” Amelia asked.

“Many, I assure you,” he replied with a small smile. “All, however, are purely speculation. I have no more knowledge of what goes though Lord Voldemort’s head than do most,” he said, continuing to look directly at the Minister.

“What do you think is happening, Harry?” Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry immediately looked at Dumbledore, unsure of whether he should say what he saw. Other than the prophecy, the fact of his unique connection with Voldemort was probably his most closely guarded secret. He saw out of the corner of his eye Hermione turning to look at the Headmaster also.

Well, maybe second most guarded secret, he thought to himself with a slight smile.

Almost as if he knew what Harry was thinking, Dumbledore turned to the Minister. “Might Harry and I have a few minutes alone please, Minister?”

“Of course,” she readily agreed, standing up and starting for the door. She held out her arm towards the door, politely asking everyone else to follow her out. With a slight nod from Harry, Dan allowed himself to be ushered out of the office.

Harry was surprised at how happy he felt to see that both Hermione and Ron appeared none too eager to leave him. After what’d they both witnessed, he half feared them to bolt out the door given the chance. But... if they wanted to stay, he wanted them to also.

“No, wait, they can stay,” Harry said of Hermione and Ron as they walked as slowly as possible to the door. He didn’t even bother looking at them after he’d said it; he knew they’d both be happy. What he was concerned about was much larger than just a little peep show into Voldemort’s mind.

He wanted them with him. He needed them with him. Both of them. But he knew it would be selfish and unfair of him to ask them or expect them to stand by his side if they did not know the truth... the entire truth, of what they were getting into.

“Are you sure, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. Oddly, he appeared pleased, not inquisitive. Somehow, Harry knew that the Headmaster was not asking if he wanted them to remain in the room. He nodded and Hermione and Ron both sprinted to sit down in the chairs on either side of him.

Dumbledore then waved his wand towards the door and it closed itself. He then looked around the room, carefully and deliberately. Seemingly satisfied, he then nodded slightly to Harry to indicate that he should start.

As he began to consider what he was about to tell them, Harry could not help but smile and let a tiny laugh escape.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry actually managed a genuine smile. “Oh, I was just thinking about how I’d told myself that the middle of Flourish and Blotts was neither the time nor the place to tell you about the prophecy. I guess I just never expected that only a few hours later, I would be telling you... in the middle of the Minister of Magic’s office.”

Hermione and Ron both started to open their mouths to ask something; they stopped however when they saw Dumbledore raise his hand slightly to ask them to remain silent for the moment. They both turned to look back at Harry.

“The prophecy was destroyed that night. However the sphere was merely a record of it. The person to whom it had been originally told still knew of it.” Harry then paused for a moment, looking at Dumbledore for any indication that he should stop.

“When this person was interviewing a prospective employee,” he began slowly and deliberately to allow Dumbledore a chance to indicate he should omit names (he didn’t), “Professor Trelawney went into some sort of fit and made the prophecy. Since it was spoken to him, Professor Dumbledore was able to remember it perfectly.”

Hermione and Ron both turned to look at the Headmaster. Since he was still watching and listening to Harry intently, they both turned back to him.

Harry took a deep breath before beginning. He’d only heard it once, but he knew he’d never forget the words as long as he lived. Somehow he suspected that they would be the only thing going through his mind the moment that he, or Voldemort, or both of them, met his death at the hand of the other.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal.” Harry paused for a moment to take another breath.

“But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor Hermione or Ron made a sound. Harry stared at the floor in front of him, unable to look at either of his friends.

After a few moments that seemed to stretch out like centuries, Harry felt Hermione take hold of his hand and grasp it firmly. Up until now, anytime either of them had taken hold of the other’s hand, for any reason, they’d literally just held hands. This time however, she interlaced her fingers with his, and then held tight. She said nothing. Nothing needed to be said.

Ron, seeing this, shuffled awkwardly in his chair. He put his own hand on Harry’s shoulder, clapped it twice, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and then let go. Sounding slightly hoarse, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. You’re my best mate, and I’ll stand by you until the very end, but I’m not going to hold your hand.” Harry turned to look at him. Ron was visibly affected by what he’d heard, but he was smiling slightly. Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand briefly, then let his hand go completely lax, silently asking her to let go for a moment.

When she did, Harry got up and stood in front of Ron.

“Stand up, Ron,” he asked. Ron quickly and nervously looked from him to Dumbledore to Hermione.

“Why?” he asked anxiously.

“Because I’m going to hug you.” Ron again quickly looked from the Headmaster to Hermione again. He appeared panicked. Harry decided to do his best impression of Molly.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley! If you do not stand up this very moment, I’m going to kiss you as well!” Ron shot up out of his chair and happily agreed to Harry’s original hug. To be kind to Ron however, Harry made it as short, masculine, and non-emotional as he could as he said “Thank you” to his best male friend.

Hermione was already standing by the time Harry turned around to face her. She certainly didn’t seem to require any threats. As he gave her a hug (keeping it as brief as his arms would allow him, while keeping hold of her as long as he could without feeling too conspicuous), he whispered softly in her ear, “Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt her shiver slightly, but she gave no indication that anything was the matter.

Neither Hermione nor Ron asked Harry why he’d never mentioned the prophecy before now. Both seemed to already know the answer. Hermione was curious about one thing, however.

“When did you hear it, Harry?” Since she was looking at Harry when she asked, she did not see Dumbledore react ever so slightly to her question. Harry, who was still looking ahead, did.

“Professor Dumbledore told me right after we got back from the Ministry that night.”

“Immediately after you got back?” she asked, her voice heavy. Harry turned to look at her. Her eyes narrowed and seemed to darken considerably. He nodded. Her head whipped to face the Headmaster and she stood up quickly.

“You told him he was destined to kill or be killed within MINUTES of witnessing his godfather be murdered?!” she asked dangerously as she slowly stalked forward. Dumbledore actually appeared caught unprepared by her reaction and took a small step backwards. He found himself backing into the Minister’s desk.

Before she was too far away, Harry leaned forward and grabbed her hand to stop her. He held it tightly for a moment, then pulled slightly to ask her to sit back down. When Dumbledore saw that Harry was actually holding her back, he let out a pained sigh.

“Now, Miss Granger, I trust you understand what I meant by ‘an old man’s mistakes,’” he admitted. Harry squeezed her hand and gave a slight pull one more time, and she finally sat back down.

“What do you think is happening at Azkaban, Harry?” Hermione asked, clearly wanting to change the subject to something that didn’t upset her as much.

Harry closed his eyes for a minute to try to remember what little he’d seen and felt.

“Voldemort’s furious. He’s been planning this for a while,” Harry began to explain. “Soon after the attack began however, something wasn’t right. Things started to go wrong. I don’t know what, but whatever it was, it began to make him madder and madder.

“Finally, I think he realized that his plan had failed and his rage exploded. That’s when I...” he trailed off as he unintentionally rubbed his scar. The vivid memory of the excruciating pain left a slight, almost itchy feeling, but nothing more.

Dumbledore listened attentively. “Do you really believe it was a trick to lure the Aurors away?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry finally decided. “It was just a first reaction, I think. After all, news of the attack came from Azkaban itself, not from him,” he said as he tapped his forehead.

Dumbledore seemed to consider Harry for a moment. “Tell me, Harry. Save a few minutes ago, have you felt anything from Voldemort of late, since that night in June? Your scar... has it been hurting at all?”

Harry intentionally brought his hand to his forehead and slowly traced the lightning-shaped mark.

“No,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining about it, but I really wasn’t too focused on it at the time. With no news of Voldemort, either in the papers or up here,” he said, again tapping his forehead, “I’d hoped that maybe he’d disappeared for a while, gone away for a while as he figured out what to do.

“Besides, the dreams I’d been having at the time kept me plenty occupied,” he admitted as he recalled the nightmares that had plagued his time on Privet Drive. “And I could feel that those had nothing to with Voldemort.”

“Any new dreams recently?” Dumbledore asked innocently, picking up on the nuance in Harry’s choice of words.

Harry stared intently at the floor. He hoped he didn’t blush. “None relevant to Voldemort,” he answered honestly, not volunteering anything further.

“It would appear then, however, that your hopes were not to be,” Dumbledore admitted. “Now, this is all speculation, mind you. After the incident with Nagini and Arthur, he realized the dangerous access you had to his thoughts and feelings. I suspect now that he allowed the connection to remain open at the time to give him an opportunity to plant false information in your mind.

“As you yourself have confirmed,” Dumbledore continued, “I expect that you would now regard with much more suspicion and caution anything that Tom might attempt to place in your mind. I trust you are familiar with the expression, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me’?” Dumbledore asked; Harry nodded.

“Thus, with little or nothing to gain from attempting to plant information in your mind, and everything to lose by accidentally allowing you into his, I suspect that he is now employing Occlumency against you.”

“Voldemort’s using Occlumency, against me?” Harry asked incredulously.

“For the obvious reasons I suspect, yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Forgive me for being blunt, Harry, but Tom is an accomplished Occlumens. It would not take a great effort on his part to keep you, or anyone else not trained in Legilimency, out of his mind, especially as such... excursions... have been unintentional.”

“But, then, what happened today?” Harry asked.

“That, Harry, is a very good question,” Dumbledore observed. “Could I ask you to recall for me as much of what you experienced? Your thoughts... your feelings... anything that you can remember.”

Harry did his best to describe everything he felt: from how he felt as though his thoughts and feelings were spiraling away from him, all the way to the increasing nausea and eventual rapid egress of his hamburger with extra pickles.

“How did it finally end?” Dumbledore asked, appearing quite interested in everything Harry had described.

“When I was lying on the floor, I could see what he was seeing. I knew I was still here, but I also knew I was somewhere else also. I felt as though I had to open my eyes... just to prove to myself I really was still here,” Harry explained as he looked down at the slightly damp spot on the carpet. At least it was clean...

“When I opened my eyes, I could still see Azkaban, but I could also see the floor and Mr. Weasley’s shoes. Seeing the two images overlapped certainly didn’t help my stomach any,” he quipped with a smile.

“And then, just like that, everything went away. It all stopped. The thoughts, the feelings, the pain, it all shut off like a switch,” Harry explained. Dumbledore stood silently leaning against the Minister’s desk for several moments looking contemplative.

“Again, this is all conjecture, however it seems reasonable and appears to fit the facts,” the Headmaster explained. “I suspect that as the moment of the attack drew near, Tom’s anticipation and focus on the upcoming allowed his concentration to drop slightly and you began to pick up on what he was feeling.

“You said that you saw what he saw?” Dumbledore confirmed. “And that it all ‘shut off like a switch’ when you opened your eyes?” Harry nodded.

“It’s possible then, he was so angry that he completely dropped his defenses. You saw what he saw, and he... most likely saw what you saw, namely the floor of the office along with a pair of shoes. If he had, he would have immediately realized that you again had access to his mind, so he immediately blocked you out,” the Headmaster suggested.

Harry thought about it for a few moments. It seemed as reasonable explanation as anything else. “What do we do now?” he asked anxiously.

Dumbledore looked over glasses at Harry for several moments. “Now, we will be patient,” he said pointedly. “It is inadvisable to do anything without proper information. And unfortunately, at the moment, information is something we do not have in abundance.”

Harry felt as though he should be doing something... but what?

“Remember, Harry, that a lack of offense does not mean that you are doing nothing,” Dumbledore said, almost as if he knew what he was feeling. It would not surprise Harry if he did.

“Perhaps we will know more later, once we have word from Azkaban,” the Headmaster suggested. Harry nodded again. “Unless there is anything more, I suggest we return the Minister’s office to her,” Dumbledore said with the usual twinkle in his eye.

* * *

A couple minutes after Dan, Arthur, and the Minister reassembled in her office, Emma and Ginny returned from the cafeteria. Emma was carrying a bowl; Harry instantly recognized the wiggling, wobbling dessert.

“Jelly?” he asked with a grin in genuine surprise.

Emma smiled fondly. “Strawberry. When Hermione was small, I would give her it to her after she was sick. She needed something to eat, and it’s simple enough that her stomach didn’t object too much to it,” she explained.

While Harry proved there was always room for jelly, especially when one’s stomach was empty, another slip of parchment appeared on the Minister’s desk.

“The situation is contained. Someone will be here shortly to deliver a preliminary report,” Madam Bones relayed the message, before crumpling up the slip and throwing it in the bin. She then slumped down into her chair.

Part of her appeared relieved that the news sounded hopeful, but there was also the sense that she was not entirely looking forward to the report.

“We’ve taken casualties,” she assumed, speaking to no one in particular. “If the Aurors can’t tell me immediately that all are well, then presumably we’ve sustained losses.” She stared blankly at the first two original slips of parchment that were still sitting on her desk.

No one spoke until the report arrived. Everyone knew things were under control, but the suggestion of casualties darkened the mood. The hard part was the waiting: waiting to hear how bad it was or wasn’t.

Finally, after about ten minutes of waiting, another soft chime was heard. Upon the door opening, Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in. Harry barely recognized him. Kingsley was a tall, powerfully built man. His stature and deep voice conveyed an image of great strength.

The man who walked through the door, though he had not a single mark on him, bore no resemblance to the Kingsley Harry knew. The man before him looked nearly lifeless. He seemed drained, defeated, devoid of the sparkle of life. Harry recognized the look immediately. Anyone who’d faced multiple dementors, and lived to tell of it, knew that look.

“Shacklebolt!” Madam Bones gasped in shock. “You look absolutely ghastly! Have you had any chocolate yet?”

Kingsley only barely shook his head, as if knew he was required to answer, but at the same point didn’t really see the point in living. She immediately reached down, opened her bottom desk drawer, and started rummaging around. A moment later, she pulled out a slightly battered, though otherwise fine, bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate.

“Here! Eat this immediately!” she ordered as she unwrapped it and broke off a large piece. “This is my emergency nibbles supply, but you have much more need of it than I.”

Kingsley reluctantly took the chocolate. As he ate it, life could visibly been seen returning to his appearance. Madam Bones gave him the rest of the bar once he finished the first piece.

“Thank you, Minister,” Kingsley said once he’d finished. “I came here straight away from Azkaban once it looked like everything was under control. There were still a couple of dementors there when I left, but they were surrounded.” With the dementor’s draining effect eliminated, Kingsley began to feel the aftereffects of his earlier adrenaline surge.

He began to shake slightly and his knees went weak. Dumbledore immediately conjured a very comfortable, squashy armchair.

“Merlin’s ghost,” Kingsley said quietly as he rubbed his hand over his face and allowed himself to sink into the chair. “Dementors everywhere. There must have been thirty or forty of them.” The Minister allowed him a few moments to collect himself.

“Did you have a report for us?” she finally asked.

“Yes, Minister,” Kingsley replied, sitting upright at attention. He pulled a scrap of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to the Minister. From the looks of it, its torn edges and messy scribbles, Harry could tell it was hastily prepared.

Madam Bones read what little writing there was. She swallowed hard, then put the scrap in her pocket. “Can you give me a brief recount of what happened?” she asked.

“The moment we got... Mr. Scrimgeour’s message, we quickly summoned all the Aurors that were in the building, and recalled all within apparition range. We wanted to all Portkey in simultaneously. After a minute or so, we had about thirty of us and didn’t want to wait any longer.

“While we all got into position and took hold of the special Azkaban Portkey, everyone spent that minute building up some happy memories. Everyone was told to cast a Patronus immediately upon arrival. We arrived and found the dementors there, waiting for us. The nearest dementor was only about five yards away, but fortunately, everyone was able to cast before they got too close. We all started to feel the cold immediately, but we’d all already cast.

“We’d banished maybe three-quarters of the dementors when a Death Eater landing party arrived,” Kingsley said, then stopped for a moment. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. The dementors nearest them attacked them too!

“Not a single one of them even attempted to defend themselves. From the looks of things, they weren’t expecting that. They were all kissed before any of them even got out of their boats. There were six of them in six boats. Presumably they were there to ferry prisoners far enough away to get free of the apparition and Portkey wards.”

“Anything else?” the Minister asked.

Kingsley stared at the pocket where he’d seen her put the scrap of parchment, then shook his head. “That’s all, so far. Other than doing a quick head count, no one’s started looking at anything yet.”

“Thank you for your haste in reporting,” Amelia replied politely. “Are you certain that the situation was under control out there?”

“I wouldn’t have left otherwise,” Kingsley assured her.

“Mrs. Granger, was there any of that glorious chocolate cake left in the cafeteria when you were down there?” the Minister asked suddenly.

Emma, surprised that she was being addressed, took a moment to respond. “Four layers, filled with chocolate ganache and topped with whipped Honeyduke’s?” she asked, looking at Ginny inquisitively to make sure she remembered the name correctly.

“Ohhhh yesssss, there is,” Emma said dreamily. “If we weren’t bringing Harry something to eat, we would’ve stayed down there and each gotten our own pieces,” she said, winking at Ginny.

“Very well. Mr. Shacklebolt. Please report to the cafeteria, have a piece of cake, and then raid the kitchen for enough Honeyduke’s to take to all of the Aurors still out there on Azkaban, Minister’s orders. Once you feel the island is completely secure, contact the MLE investigators, and have them report out there to determine what exactly the hell happened.”

“Yes, Minister,” he replied enthusiastically. Evidently, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a fan of the way this new minister ran things. “Fortunately, with the dementors no longer guarding the prisoners, most of them are in good mental condition. We should get some reliable eyewitness accounts of what happened before we arrived.”

“Oh, and by the way. The MLE staff thinks this is a drill,” Madam Bones told him, to which he replied with a grin. “I didn’t want to start a panic by allowing misinformation and speculation to run rampant. What was that expression again, Professor?” she then asked Dumbledore. “Need to know?

“At this very instant, only the investigators need to know,” she informed Kingsley; he nodded in agreement. “Hopefully we will have some solid information from them before everyone goes home tonight. Oh, and please send Steve in on your way out.”

“Thank you, Minister. I will have them report to you with whatever we have confirmed, no later than 16:45,” Kingsley promised her, then left the office in search of his cake.

The Minister’s assistant, Steve, came in only moments after Kingsley left.

“Yes, Minister?” he asked.

“Please send out a memo. No one leaves early tonight,” she told him.

“Performance feedback on today’s drill?” he asked in confirmation, genuinely unaware of what had happened.

Smiling, he explained upon the Minister’s surprised look. “I saw the MLE guys come up here a few minutes ago, trying to look like they weren’t doing anything in particular. And then Professor Dumbledore and Shacklebolt showed up. It’s a likely guess.”

Madam Bones smiled. “Something like that,” she replied evasively. “But just keep the memo as I worded it, please,” she asked.

“Yes, of course, Minister,” he replied politely, then returned to his desk.

Once the door sealed behind him, she turned to Dumbledore with a smile. “I have to give him credit. An excellent Junior Assistant, and a smart young man. I never said anything to him about today’s drill.”

As she walked back to her desk, she put her hands in her pockets. Feeling the scrap of parchment she’d put in there earlier, she pulled it out and stared at it somberly. The lighter mood that had developed since cake had been brought into the picture immediately disappeared.

For those few moments (knowing that the attack hadn’t succeeded), everyone seemed to be able to set aside the fact that there had been casualties. She stared at it as she slowly sat down in her chair.

“Minister?” Dumbledore asked gently.

Madam Bones set down the piece of parchment and looked up with unfocused eyes.

“Rufus Scrimgeour is dead,” she said blankly. “Kissed. So are fifteen guards, the eight prisoners sent over today, and one already at Azkaban. All kissed by the dementors. And the six Death Eaters, of course,” she added as an afterthought.

“Well, so much for spending the night at Harry’s,” Ron said before he could stop himself. He immediately looked horrified that he’d said it.

“RONALD!” Arthur shouted.

“Please, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore interrupted the elder Weasley male. “What were you saying?” he then asked the younger.

Ron appeared too stunned (and guilty) to speak. Dan stepped forward.

“Emma and I invited Ron and Ginny over to spend the night with us,” he explained. “We were looking forward to a nice evening to better get to know our daughter’s other two friends. Plus, we thought it might be fun for them,” he said, sending a small grin to Arthur.

Dumbledore appeared slightly surprised, but pleased, by the offer. He considered it for a few moments.

“Well, I see no reason why your plans need be canceled because of this... little incident,” he told them. Everyone except himself, Ron, and Ginny all looked as though they were about to say something when he cut them all off.

“We can not allow our lives to be ruled by the fear of what might happen,” he said confidently, looking directly at Harry and Hermione. “If we do, Voldemort wins. Whatever will happen, will happen. All we can do is do our best to be prepared for when that moment comes. And in the meantime, we go on and continue to live our lives.”

Dumbledore didn’t know it, but both Harry and Hermione were hit hard by his words.

“The Grangers’ house is as safe as I can make it. To be quite honest, I do not believe that Mr. and Miss Weasley would be any less safe there than at their current domicile. If an evening together for the four of you,” Dumbledore said, indicating the teenagers, “would bring a small ray of sunshine into the storm clouds that have suddenly developed, than I most heartily suggest that you continue with your plans.”

A large smile could be seen behind his moustache and long beard. “Who knows? Depending on what’s for dinner, I might even pop in, with your permission,” Dumbledore added, turning to Dan and Emma, who both nodded.

The Headmaster then pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it for a moment. “Well, I think that was a sufficiently long trip to the loo, don’t you?” he asked to no one in particular. “I called a brief ‘comfort break’ after all of the Aurors in the room left suddenly. I must be getting back or else they shall be wondering where I’ve gotten off to.

“Good day, Minister,” Dumbledore said, bowing his head slightly. “Good day,” he then said, bowing slightly towards Harry, then everyone else.

After the Headmaster left, Arthur slowly turned back to Ron and Ginny. “Well, children,” he finally said, “the Professor seems to think it’s safe for you to go, so that’s good enough for me. It’s up to you two.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ron and Ginny were stepping out of the fireplace in the back room of The Leaky Cauldron, accompanying Harry and the Grangers back to Wandsworth. Arthur made arrangements to pick his children up at the East Putney Station the following afternoon if they weren’t able to secure a Portkey from Dumbledore (for convenience).

He then decided to stay at the office a little while longer to resume his discussion with Kara Thrace about how batteries worked, and also Floo Molly to tell her about Ron and Ginny’s visit.

He also wanted to allow Ron and Ginny enough time to arrive at the Grangers’ home before he actually told her about the “little incident.”

The second one out, as she stood on the sidewalk outside the pub waiting for the others, Hermione watched surreptitiously as Harry stood idly in front of the record store next to them, looking in the windows. He froze for a moment as though he’d just realized something, then turned to her with a poorly hidden smile.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Harry told her, then quickly walked into the record store. Hermione walked over to the window and peered in next to the posters. She saw him talking to the shop owner. She nearly jumped when he pointed at her.

She quickly realized however, that Harry must have been merely pointing in her direction, for he never actually turned and saw her. He emerged a minute later with an even bigger grin on his face. He tried to suppress it, but failed spectacularly.

“What?” she asked him, finding his expression amusing.

“Nothing,” he replied airily, then rejoined the group as they headed for the Underground. He resisted all of her attempts to pry out of him what he was smiling about.

On the train ride back to Wandsworth, Hermione observed as Harry, across the aisle from her, stared at the floor in front of him. With nothing to do but sit and wait, his momentary exuberance had faded into the same solemn quiet he shown since learning of the attack.

She wanted to sit next to him, just to be near him. She remembered with great clarity how he’d held on to her after regaining consciousness. He seemed calmer when she was there, and she was only too happy to oblige.

Unfortunately however, she’d been lost in thought about the record store when they boarded the train, and Ginny had managed to pull her into a seat next to her. Although he appeared to be intentionally keeping his stare on the floor, at one point, he must’ve felt that she was watching him intently, for he looked up at her. She gave him a small smile, trying to reassure him that things would be okay.

Half way back home, Hermione noticed that Harry had pulled Sirius’s letter out of his pocket and was rereading it. She could not help but be reminded of what Sirius wrote to her. There was never any question in her mind whether she’d do what she promised. Simply the fact that he asked her, of all people, had a tremendous impact on her.

She retrieved her own letter from her pocket and began to read it again.

Dear Hermione,

Well, if you’re reading this, then obviously the worst has happened. It’s funny. I’ve been sitting here in the kitchen for several hours now, writing these letters.

I started doing this a couple years ago, right after you and Harry rescued me. I knew that with me a wanted man, it was entirely possible that I might be killed at any time. I wanted to make sure I was able to have a few last words of advice for my godson.

I must make a confession. At first, I only wrote letters to Harry. He was the only one who I felt NEEDED to hear from me.

But as time has passed, and I began to hear more and more about what he’s been up to (I have my sources), the more I heard about you and Ron. As the years went by, I eventually began to include the two of you in my letters.

I didn’t really know either of you very well (and still don’t, I regret), but I knew enough to know that you were both important people in Harry’s life. That was enough for me to want to say a few things to both of you as well.

I told Harry that this latest letter was unlike any of the previous I’d written him. In my earlier letters, I’d given him all the usual godfather advice: it only matters if you get caught, girls are always right, torment Snape for me... you know, the standard stuff I’m supposed to tell a teenage boy.

But this time, I threw it all away and told him that it all didn’t matter now. Now, there was only one thing I wanted him to know... wanted him to do for me.

After rewriting his letter, I looked over my stack of letters to everyone else, deciding what needed to be updated in the rest of them. Aside from a few financial modifications, most everyone else’s letters remained mostly unchanged. They only needed a little updating to bring them up to date.

And then I came to yours. Yours was last. It always is. Harry’s is always the first one to write. Yours is always the last one.

Harry’s letter is always the easiest for me to write. Yours is always the hardest.

I finally realized why this Christmas.

You’ve always been there for Harry. That’s why it’s the hardest one for me to write.

It’s something I’ve always known, but wasn’t consciously aware of until Arthur was attacked this Christmas. I could tell that something was bothering Harry after he got back from St. Mungo’s. When he shut himself up with Buckbeak, everyone allowed him to just be alone, myself included.

It was what he wanted, right? Who were we to tell him otherwise?

Then you showed up. Ron and Ginny told you what they’d heard and how he’d shut himself away, ignoring everyone. And then you asked everyone quite shrilly why any of us hadn’t actually gone up there to talk to him. Well... it sounded shrill.

I must admit, they way you said it, I nearly started laughing... until I realized that I too had not tried to go talk to him. I’ll never forget the way you said it: “I’ll go talk to him.” It wasn’t so much your words as it was the tone in your voice. The weight in it, the finality of it... as if you were going in and weren’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. You practically ordered Ron and Ginny to meet you in his room while you went and fetched him.

That was when I realized it, that you’ve always been there for him.

You were there with him and Buckbeak when you rescued me. I could see how scared you were... I assume from being up that high. I wondered why you were with him if you were so scared. But I didn’t dwell on it for too long since we WERE in the middle of a jail break.

The next school year, during the tournament, you were the only one to stand by him, especially when he and Ron had their... differences. That made a big impression on me.

What am I trying to say? Well, I’m not entirely sure myself! Sorry. Give me a minute to go reread what I wrote to Harry. I know I had a point when I started this.

Okay! Sorry about that.

In my letter to Harry, I asked only one thing of him. What I am asking of you is to make sure he keeps his promise to me.

I told him I wanted him to live. I wanted him to LIVE his LIFE.

Being locked away here has reminded me that merely existing is not enough. We must live our lives. It won’t matter if he defeats Voldemort if he spends the rest of his life feeling sorry for himself because I am gone.

I’m sure you are wondering why I am asking you. It’s quite simple really. I felt that this kind of request was one that I could really only make of one person.

If there is any one person I trust in this world with Harry’s life, it’s you.

Please, do not misunderstand me. It isn’t that I distrust Remus or Ron or Dumbledore, or anyone else. It is merely that I trust you more.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why my faith in Ron and Dumbledore is not entirely at 100%. My faith in Remus IS absolute. However, he is simply not in a position where he can be there for Harry whenever he might need him. I mean, aside from his monthly visitor, Hogwarts IS a long way away. So, if I am to ask only one person, it is you.

And yet, as I write these words, I know there is something more too. I don’t know if I should tell you or not. Hell, I’m dead now, it’s not like I’ll have a chance to do it later. I can always tear this letter up and rewrite it if I ever change my mind.

When I look at you, you remind me a little of Lily. Yes, I know Ginny bears more physical resemblance to her than you do, but there’s more to a person than the color of her hair.

I see in you some of the things that I remember so well about her character. Her intelligence, her determination. Her fierce protectiveness. Lily would defend those she cared about with her own life if necessary. When they first met, James and Lily didn’t exactly get along. However, once the two of them started dating, it was clear where her loyalties lie.

James and I were quite well known to be quite the pranksters. Everyone knew not to draw our attention or ire. If you did, you might just wake up on top of the Owlery. But once the two of them started dating, everyone knew not to cross her either. She might not prank you, but she did strike lightning quick if provoked.

So, Miss Hermione Granger, cleverest witch of your age, I humbly ask you now: please promise that you will make sure Harry keeps his promise to me, that he lives his life.

Whatever that entails, I will trust to you. You know him better than I. Whether that means dragging him away from his books to go play Quidditch—

Hermione still smiled when she read that again.

—or dragging him off to one of those Muggle movies Lily was always dragging me, James, and Lupin to. Just make sure he lives his life as if he really were alive. I’ve given you a couple extra Galleons, partly to cover the price of a movie ticket, partly to show my appreciation for all you’ve done for Harry. Hey, I’m dead. Giving away money is about all I can do at this point.

Please promise me! I want you to make that promise to Harry. He won’t know what you’re promising, but he will know to expect your promise. I asked him to promise you that he would do as I asked, to live his life. Make sure that he makes his promise.

I know it sounds like I’ve asked a lot of you, but at the same time, I really don’t think that it is. The two three of you (I don’t mean to exclude Ron. I know that both of you are important to Harry) are still so young. All three of you should be out there living your lives. Enjoy life, while you can.

Dumbledore once told me that “we are all facing dark and difficult times” when he was trying to justify some of the choices he’d made regarding Harry this year. While I STILL don’t agree with many of them, he was right about one thing. We ARE facing dark and difficult times. Live today, for tomorrow may never come.

But at the same time, live FOR tomorrow, for it may very well might. I actually told Harry that he should try harder than I did when I was in school. I’m sure you’d like that. Partly because he might actually learn something that might help defeat Voldemort. And partly because if when he does defeat him, he will need to go on living his life.

That means getting a job, starting a family, all of that good stuff. Since he’s managed to get himself a lifetime Quidditch ban, I guess that means he’ll actually have to rely on his education. I’m sure you’d like that too!

I guess I’ll just leave you with one last thing. It may not make sense to you, but I’ll say it anyway, considering what I’ve said so far. If she were alive today, I’m sure Lily would’ve loved to have met you. I think the two of you would’ve gotten along wonderfully. Being privileged to have known her as well as I do, that is the highest compliment that I can think to give you.

Hoping you’ll keep my godson living,

Sirius

Hermione refolded the letter and contemplated Sirius’s words. She really didn’t think Sirius was asking too much of her. She knew she would’ve done something similar anyway. But now she felt her resolve strengthened by his request.

Her thoughts drifted back to something Sirius told her. When she first read it, Hermione really didn’t know what to make of his comments about Lily. What had happened down in Harry’s vault really caught her off guard.

Lily’s jewelry box. She remembered seeing James’ and Lily’s initials engraved in the lid. The ‘J’ and the ‘L’ were intertwined with each other; the two ‘P’s simply lined up, one slightly offset from the other. After Harry closed it, she saw that it now had Harry’s initials on it. She could not help but notice the fact that IF they were to get married, her initials would match his. Their initials on that box would match up perfectly, as if it was meant to be.

It scared her to realize that thoughts such as those were going through her mind. But what scared her even more than that was the fact that the box opened when she touched it... not when Harry did.

She really didn’t know why the box opened when she touched it. There were lots of different ways a personal item like that could be locked. Since it was a woman’s jewelry box, it could have been charmed to require any female to open it, like she originally (desperately) theorized.

Since it contained their wedding rings, one could assume that his parents intended for him to have them, and presumably use them. It could’ve been charmed to only open when someone who cared deeply for (loved, maybe?) Harry touched it. And, for all she knew, it could’ve even be charmed to open only when the two of them felt the same way about each other. It did contain wedding rings, after all.

At the time, not knowing why the box opened, combined with Sirius’s comments that she reminded him of Lily actually worried her. She felt as though fate was setting her up, building up her hopes, all so that it could all crash down around her.

But now... now she wondered if just maybe it was possible the opposite was true.

She had been right about her mother. When she confronted her in the stationery store, her mother admitted she had been watching them, that she had hoped that the two of them would kiss.

She promised that she wouldn’t interfere, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t watch hopefully from the side. Expecting to be upset, Hermione actually ended up quite happy that was the case. It meant that she at least had her mother in her corner.

Emma also confessed that she and Dan had actually talked about the possibility of the two of them getting together. Hermione could tell that she was holding something back. Considering their first conversation, it was probably sex-related. If that was the case, she really didn’t want to know about it; having that conversation once was enough.

While she didn’t expect them to let Harry move into her bedroom anytime in the next few years, it was rather reassuring to simply know that your parents approved of the boy you fancied. Everything in steps, Hermione reminded herself.

So, after everything that had happened today, now she was beginning to look at what Sirius had said much differently. She was now immensely pleased that he thought that she and Lily would’ve liked each other. Somehow she felt it was the closest she’d ever come to “meeting the parents” and getting their approval of her.

Harry told her he liked smart girls. It all came back to that, again. With that subtle admission, now she finally felt as though she actually had a chance. It was all circumstantial, but it did give her hope, something she really hadn’t had before (because she knew he had been so fixated on Cho).Back in the vault when she told him her thoughts about the coins, he actually started laughing, saying how much she amazed him, and that he hoped she never changed.

Harry would never know how much those simple words meant to her... unless she ever told him, of course. This lead back to why she smiled in the first place. Harry had actually given her the way to do it: just get him to see that she was a smart girl who was not a blonde.

A large grin appeared on her face as she stared at the folded piece of parchment in her hand. She might not be brave enough (yet) to tell him what those words meant to her, but she could certainly show him.

It would be easy enough to figure out... She had a Galleon and a ruler. With that information, she could calculate the exact volume of all of the Galleons Sirius left him (since she knew how many there were). And then, after looking up the density of gold, she could tell him exactly how much they weighed.

She could even look up the price of gold today and calculate the value of the metal content if they were gold. That, she knew, might be going a bit too far, so she’d save it only if he responded positively. Sure, it might’ve seemed like showing off, but what else could she do to get his attention?

Well, besides wearing those dress robes again, she thought to herself with a grin.

While she certainly didn’t mind Harry looking at her like that (he had, after all, done a LOT more than just look in her dreams), she wanted to be sure he noticed more than only her rather lacking (in her opinion) physical attributes.

Hermione wanted to be sure he saw her for her. Any boy could notice a pair of breasts. The Playwizards she’d confiscated while on rounds proved that. Well, except for the Playwitch she’d confiscated from the Slytherin fourth-year boy once.

The terrified boy actually hugged her when she assured him that he was only in trouble for being out of bounds with an adult magazine (she vanished it on the spot to prove that she couldn’t remember which one it was). She also told him that she wouldn’t deduct any points, this time. It was a good thing, she felt, that Ron had skived off ten minutes early that evening.

* * *

A short while later, the train slowed as it approached their stop. Looking up from her folded letter, Hermione noticed Harry watching her. He glanced down at her letter. Dan and Emma were the first ones off the train, with Ron and Ginny right behind them.

Before re-pocketing his letter, he held it up slightly to show her. He fixed her with an intent stare.

“I promise,” he again told her.

“I promise,” she replied, holding up her folded letter.

The two of them stepped off the train and hurried to catch up with the others.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: Hmm... my plans for shorter and faster haven’t exactly materialized. At least I’m keeping up with my old schedule. Maybe NEXT chapter will be a ten-pager in only one week!! Heh heh heh... we’ll see!

Blatant borrowing of a joke from one of the Naked Gun movies in this chapter... just saying.

Thanks to my beta, MapleMountain, for everything you do!

Again, similarities to Book 6 are entirely intentional... AS ARE the differences.

---

Chapter 24. Gone Shopping, Redux.

Before re-pocketing his letter, he held it up slightly to show her. He fixed her with an intent stare.

“I promise,” he again told her.

“I promise,” she replied, holding up her folded letter.

The two of them stepped off the train and hurried to catch up with the others.

After exiting the Underground station, the Granger/Potter/Weasley party made its way through the car park towards the Grangers’ car.

“Hmm... didn’t think that far ahead,” Dan mused to himself once they arrived at the SUV. All six of them looked inside; there were only four seats.

“Well, can’t we just...?” Ron started to ask as he reached toward his pocket where his wand was stowed.

“Ron, NO!” came the simultaneous response from Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.

“What? We can do magic now,” he reminded them all quietly, making sure his voice didn’t carry.

“Yes, but there’s still the Statute,” Ginny reminded him. “We’re out in public where everyone can see us.”

Ron looked genuinely embarrassed. “Oh, yeah,” he said sheepishly.

“Not to worry, Ron,” Dan assured him. “Even us Muggles can do a little magic now and again,” he assured him. He unlocked the car, then opened the back door. Two latches and one lever pull later, the cargo area was miraculously converted into a third row of seating.

“Fold-away seating,” Dan explained to an amazed-looking Ron and Ginny. Returning to the side door, he then pulled another lever, and the regular passenger seat popped forward, allowing access to the not-exactly-spacious back seats.

“Unfortunately, two of you are going to have to climb into the back. They aren’t exactly captain’s chairs, but they should be bearable for the long trip home,” Emma teased.

“Harry and I will take the back,” Hermione volunteered. “Give Ginny and Ron a chance to actually be comfortable.”

Hermione climbed into the car first, bending forward slightly as it was not possible to stand inside the car. He didn’t look on purpose, but as she made her way to the farthest most seat, Harry could not help but notice how flattering her jeans were to her posterior.

Following her in, he quickly realized just how not-exactly-spacious the third row seats were. The fold down compartment had to fit between the wheel wells of the car. As such, the bench seat was exactly wide enough for two people with no room to spare. The two of them ended up being quite literally pressed together (not that he minded). It was a good thing their shopping bags were still shrunk down. There would have been no room for them otherwise.

“You two comfortable back there?” Emma asked.

“Fine,” Harry and Hermione chorused.

Less than two minutes later, they were home. Ron and Ginny were actually disappointed at how short a trip it was.

“Is this your home?” Ginny asked in awe as they pulled into the drive.

“Number 8, Broomhill Road. Home sweet home,” Emma confirmed.

“It’s beautiful!” Ginny said, clearly impressed. Even from all the way in back, Harry could tell Emma was slightly overwhelmed by the praise. Ron was still staring through the car door window, lost in thought.

As they approached the front door, they all saw Crookshanks come running from his favorite napping spot in the flower bed. He beat them to the front door, then turned around and looked at them, meowing insistently to be let it.

Ron let out a laugh. “Looks like you were worried about nothing, Mrs. Granger,” he told her. “Cat’s been out the entire time.”

“Huh?” Emma asked, confused. She then suddenly remembered her earlier outburst. “Oh yeah, I guess we did put him out,” she said, flashing a quick grin to Hermione who steadfastly tried to ignore it.

Once inside, while Dan and Emma gave Ron and Ginny the one-minute tour, Hermione excused herself for a moment, saying she wanted to go check on Metis and put away her shopping. Upon her mentioning of her owl, Harry remembered he still needed to send a letter to Neville about their little writing project.

He politely excused himself while Ron marveled over strange Muggle devices. “So this is one of those tee-vee-visions Dad is always talking about.” Harry heard it being switched on as he walked into his room.

Going over to his bed, he canceled the shrinking spell then laid everything out. He headed to the closet with his new dress robes. Since he didn’t plan on wearing them anytime soon, Harry decided to hang them up in the far corner of the closet so they’d be out of the way. After he slid open the door that normally remained closed (hiding the laundry basket), he let out a small gasp of surprise.

There, propped up in the back corner of the closet, was his Firebolt. With everything that had happened at the end of the school year, Harry never bothered to ask for his broom back. With Sirius dead, it didn’t seem important enough to remember anymore.

He didn’t even realize that he didn’t have it until he completely unpacked his trunk that first day here. He hadn’t made a big deal of it however, since he couldn’t fly it anyway. Besides, it was safely stowed away at Hogwarts. Very safely, if it was still in the dungeons.

Since his and Hermione’s closets were side by side and the interior walls were not insulated, Harry could hear her through the wall, moving stuff around inside her own closet and then finally sliding the door shut. After hanging up his new robes, he grabbed the broom handle and looked at it; there was a note attached to it. He immediately recognized the handwriting.

I know you can not use this whilst at the Grangers’, however since it is yours, I felt there was no reason not to return this to you.

I do hope you find my present to you useful. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Albus Dumbledore

“Present?” Harry wondered aloud, quietly. What present? He said he wasn’t supposed to give me one? He can’t mean the broom, can he? He just said not to use it, he debated with himself. In the end, he decided to just put the broom back and not think about it. He knew there was little point in trying to read between the Headmaster’s words. It wouldn’t make any sense... until it did. Leaving his new school books and Potions kit on the bed for the moment, he turned to go back to his desk.

Glancing at her cage, Harry was pleased to see that Hedwig was there, napping. She’d been out a lot lately, no doubt enjoying her freedom... and the great big park at the end of the street. Pulling out his quill and a piece of parchment, Harry sat down at his desk and began a quick note to Neville.

Dear Neville,

I hope you enjoyed your birthday with your family. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you your present sooner, but I didn’t know you wouldn’t be there until just yesterday.

First things first. Have you heard from the Minister of Magic yet? If you haven’t yet, there were a couple of things she wanted to discuss. The only one I’ll mention now is this: The six of us are now exempt from the ban on underage magic! Can you believe it? But Professor Dumbledore reminded us that the Statute of Secrecy is still in effect, so don’t get careless.

There was something else, but I think I’ll let her tell you herself. On a related matter, there is something I wanted to ask you.

Have you started writing that essay yet, the one I mentioned? If you haven’t, don’t. I think we should change some of the analysis arguments in it. If you’ve already started, go ahead and get rid of it. We won’t want the old one lying around anyway.

If I don’t see you soon, I’ll send your present over with Hedwig one of these days.

Happy Birthday!

Harry

“Where are Ron and Ginny?” Hermione asked, startling Harry as he reread his letter. He turned to look at her.

“Your mum and dad are giving them the grand tour,” he explained. “I heard someone turn on the telly as I came up, so they all might be still stuck there,” he said with a knowing smile. Hermione looked at the piece of parchment in front of him.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting your homework now,” she teased.

“Are you kidding?” Harry shot back. “If I was, Ron would probably hex me on the spot.”

“What are you doing then?” she asked as she came over directly behind him, standing and looking over his shoulder. Harry turned back to his letter.

“I was just writing a quick note to Neville about not saying anything about what happened back in the Department of Mysteries. You know, exactly the opposite of what I asked him two weeks ago. Here, do you want to read it?” he asked, handing it up to her. She took a few moments to read it.

“Trying to talk in code, are you?” she asked.

“Well...” he admitted sheepishly. “There’s no reason to be obvious about it, is there? I mean, if we’re going to keep quiet about it, it didn’t seem right to go out and write in a letter that might be intercepted, ‘Hey, we need to keep this a secret so please put away that highly detailed written account.’”

Hermione shook her head in agreement. “Neville’s smart. He’ll understand what you’re trying to say. Do you think we should say something to Luna too?”

“Maybe,” Harry supposed. “Though I doubt she’s the type to talk about something like that. But, as someone is fond of saying, constant vigilance, no?” Hermione was still standing over him, so he tilted his head back to look directly up at her. He then gave her a big, upside-down (to her) grin.

“Perhaps someone should say something to her, just in case. Know of anyone we could... volunteer for that task?” he asked suggestively.

“Perhaps,” Hermione grinned back, looking directly down at him.

“You know what?” Harry then asked.

“What?”

“This is really uncomfortable,” he said, still looking up, as she grinned and shook her head slightly. He tilted his head back down. Hermione started back towards to the door. “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute after I send this.”

“’Kay,” she replied as she walked toward the door. Harry turned and looked at Hedwig’s cage; she was still asleep.

“Hermione? Is Metis there? Is she awake?” he suddenly asked as she was about to turn left to the stairs.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, turning around.

“Do you mind if I borrow her, to send this? Hedwig is asleep.”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “No, go ahead,” she said then headed downstairs. Harry sealed his letter in an envelope, addressing it to Neville. He then walked down the hall to Hermione’s room.

“Metis,” Harry called gently as he approached the currently-eating owl’s cage. “When you’re done, can you deliver this for me?” he asked.

Upon looking up from the dish filled with owl treats, Metis’s large amber eyes stared at Harry questioningly, unblinking.

“Hedwig is sleeping,” he explained. The owl continued to stare. “But, if you’d prefer that I go wake her up...”

Metis suddenly took a drink of water, then hopped out of the cage onto the table. A feathered leg was extended. Harry smiled then tied the letter on.

“I’ll put in a good word for you with her,” Harry promised, then realized he wondered who Metis might’ve thought he meant: Hermione or Hedwig. Either way, the second snowy owl seemed appreciative. Metis hooted contentedly, then nipped affectionately at his fingers as he stroked the soft white feathers.

Let’s just hope Hedwig didn’t see that, Harry thought to himself. “I need you to deliver this to Neville Longbottom, okay?” Metis let out another small hoot, then took flight, soaring out the window into the hot afternoon.

As he turned around to leave, Harry suddenly noticed that something about Hermione’s room was different from the last time he was in here. It felt... lighter... emptier... as if something was missing. Curious, he looked around briefly.

For whatever reason, Harry looked at her desk first. And right away, he noticed something was missing: one of her pictures. When he was in here the first time, there had been five photographs on her desk. Now there were four; one of the wizarding photographs was gone. It was the picture of the Quidditch team.

Maybe she doesn’t want Ron to see it... Harry mused to himself with a smile.

Before he could really give it much thought, he started looking around a little more. He quickly noticed something else was missing. Her framed copy of The Quibbler was gone too. It had been hanging on the side wall next to her mirror. The hanging hook was still there, however, so it was unlikely that she’d simply decided to get rid of it for good.

Maybe... Luna did say that that issue was a very good seller. Maybe they ran out and she had to ask for this one back to give to Harry? But then why did Luna say that his present was the first one off the press? Hermione couldn’t have gotten that one, could she? Thoughts of the Quidditch picture were forgotten as he wondered if Hermione had actually given him two presents.

Or three, he quipped to himself as he remembered his dream from this morning. Becoming extremely embarrassed thinking about that in her bedroom, Harry literally fled out the door. Once back in the safety of his own room, he also decided to change clothes while he was there. He’d been in his school shirt and trousers long enough today, thank you very much. At least now in jeans and a T-shirt, he wouldn’t look quite so dressed up.

* * *

Harry returned downstairs to find everyone in the kitchen talking; the tee-vee-vision was off. Everyone was seated at the table, except Hermione (the table only sat four). Ron was sitting with his back to him. It didn’t take very long to determine the topic of conversation.

“And so, Harry and I were sitting there in the compartment. I was about to try to turn my rat yellow.”

“Scabs, or something like that?” Dan interrupted.

“The one that turned out to be that man in disguise? That man who betrayed Harry’s parents?” Emma asked. Harry couldn’t see his face, but the way Ron paused, Harry imagined he was very surprised that they knew. Not wanting to dwell on his former pet, Ron then quickly continued his tale.

“Yeah, that one. Anyway, so I was about to use the spell, when in walked Hermione with Neville. He’d lost his toad again. She was helping him look for it,” Ron explained. Hermione, who was leaning against the back counter, saw Harry walk in and glanced at him. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

Harry grinned at her and wagged his eyebrows, indicating he was going to do something. Considering they’d just talked about this last night, he knew exactly what to do. He turned and watched Ron as he spoke. At different points in Ron’s story, Dan, Emma, and Ginny all saw Harry standing there in the doorway behind Ron, but he held his finger up to his lips to tell them to be quiet.

“She saw that I was about to do a spell, so she asked to see it. I did it and nothing happened. Now, of course, I knew nothing would happen. I’d already done it before. I was just showing Harry.”

“You were going to show Harry that the spell didn’t work?” Emma asked, confused. Ron paused for a moment, scratching his head as he thought about it.

“Well... if you put it like that... then... I guess, yeah,” Ron admitted, slightly embarrassed. “Anyway, after I did the spell and nothing happened, she says—”

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it?” Harry interrupted, doing his best to mimic Hermione’s original tone as best he remembered it; Ron jumped in his chair. Everyone in the room began to chuckle, even Ron.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron complained, turning around to look at him. “You could give a bloke a heart attack like that,” he said with an embarrassed smile.

“Honestly, if I have to hear that story one more time,” Hermione complained jokingly. “Besides, I didn’t know that you knew that it didn’t work.”

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked Ginny, making a show of looking around the kitchen.

“You have a beautiful home, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” she said, impressed. Harry looked at Ron.

“It’s nice,” Ron said. Though short, Harry could tell from his voice he was being genuine. High praise, he felt, considering Ron’s “trapped” comment earlier that morning.

“Thank you, both of you,” Emma said, almost embarrassed by their complements. “And please, call me Emma. I had to tell Harry here that twice before it finally sunk in. Let’s see if you two can do better than that.”

“Yeah, well, Harry here can be a little thick-headed sometimes,” Ron jabbed at him. If everyone else hadn’t been watching Harry feign guilt at that, they might have seen Dan and Emma shared a look that clearly meant, “He’s not the only one!”

Eager to move the conversation away from himself, Harry decided steer it in another direction.

“So, did we have any plans for today?” he asked, glancing at the clock; it was just after three o’clock.

“No, no plans, really,” Dan admitted, surprising everyone. “Just thought it would be nice to spend some time with Ron and Ginny.” He then looked at Emma. “Anything you need or want to do?”

“Well, we need to go to the store again. The fridge is about empty. We could look around the other stores for a while, if anyone’d like,” Emma suggested.

“Either of you two been to a Muggle shopping mall before?” Dan asked the Weasley children. Both shook their heads but Ginny looked extremely interested.

“No, but one of the girls in my dormitory is Muggle-born. She’s always talking about it. Can we go?” she asked excitedly.

“What about you, Ron?” Dan enquired. Harry could tell Ron didn’t seem entirely thrilled about the idea of going shopping, but since he didn’t have any better ideas...

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, just glad to be doing something, anything, different for a change. Life at Grimmauld Place could get very old, very quickly. After deciding to leave Crookshanks in, everyone headed back out to the car. Once there, Emma suddenly realized something.

“Oh, but we’re not going to have anywhere to put the shopping,” she said as she looked at the back seat.

“Dad, can you turn the car around so the back is facing the house rather than the street?” Hermione asked. “I can put an Always Room charm on the little space between the back seat and the door. I just need the car the other way so no one can see me do it.”

Dan got in the car and made a quick three-point turn, backing into the drive. He then got out, eager to see his witch-for-a-daughter perform some actual magic for the second time in his life. She’d performed some accidental magic when she was ten, summoning a book she wanted from the top-most shelf. No one saw her do it however, and even she didn’t realize what she’d done at the time.

With the back door now raised, Hermione had her parents stand on one side and Harry and Ron on the other to block the view from the neighbors’ houses. All of their neighbors were at work, but it never hurt to be safe.

After casting the spell, a sparkling effect was visible in the air between the back seat and where the door would be when closed. It faded a few moments later.

“There you go,” she told her parents. “All done.”

Dan and Emma looked... not unimpressed... but rather... hesitant. Shouldn’t there have been something more? Hermione could see their reactions.

“Go on, reach in there,” she encouraged them.

“In where?” Dan asked.

“In there, into that space between the seat and the door. Try to grab the back of the seat,” she said with a knowing smile.

Dan put his hand out and leaned forward. He, like most humans (including witches and wizards), based their existence in the physical world on the tenet that seeing was believing. Though he thought otherwise, since he only saw six inches of space, he truly believed, deep down, that his hand would touch the back of the seat after six inches.

Leaning forward, after his hand traveled one foot, he actually lost his balance and fell into the back of the car, landing on the floor of the compartment. From the outside, looking “through” the field, it appeared as if the upper half of his body had been compressed to fit within those six inches.

After letting out a gasp of shock, Emma leaned down and looked “into” the field. She saw her husband, properly proportioned, sprawled out on the floor of the car, beginning laugh. It appeared as though the back end of the car had been stretched to fit him. The seat was slightly beyond his reach. Even when he pushed himself forward several inches, it always remained just out of reach.

“Let’s go,” was all Dan said after he pulled himself out, looking both amused and embarrassed at the same time. Again, Harry and Hermione took the back seat. And again, Harry allowed her to get in first.

* * *

Not surprisingly, the first stores visited in the shopping center were the bookstore and the bath store. Hermione, and Harry, separated from the group as they walked into the bookstore. Ron noticed this, stopped, and then watched Dan, Emma, and Ginny continue on two more stores down. He stood in front of the bookstore, looking very torn between the two. A bookstore or a bath store? He decided to go on down to the bath store.

“Hello again, dear!” the shop owner greeted Hermione happily. She then cast a quick glance at Harry. “Didn’t have to drag him in this time, did you?” she said to her with a wink. Harry could see Hermione blush a little at her comment.

The friendly woman then turned to look directly at Harry. “Did she?” she then asked him, winking at him too. It was now his turn to blush a little. Again, he noticed her glance briefly up to the scar on his forehead, and again she then looked away as if it meant nothing to her. And again, he found this very comforting.

One minute later, Ron came back to the bookstore.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Ron breathed. “Soap and shampoo everywhere. Scented bath oils, little puffy, scrubby things,” he continued, looking more and more horrified. He actually shuddered slightly.

“Girls like those kinds of things, Ron,” Harry told him. Ron gave him a “How do you know that?” kind of look.

“Because I have to share a bathroom with her,” Harry reminded Ron, whispering so Hermione wouldn’t hear. “Besides there’s nothing wrong with a little Morning Flower shampoo.”

Ron looked absolutely mortified. “Please, Harry! Please don’t tell me you’re using her shampoo,” he begged quietly.

Soap and shampoo were about the only two things Harry did not have in his bathroom kit. The Hogwarts bathrooms were always well stocked with those sorts of things. While on Privet Drive, the Dursleys actually demanded that he use theirs. Evidently, the only thing worse that letting him use the soap and shampoo they paid for was the possibility of him bringing home some freakish devil’s brew made of frog spawn and bat guts.

Harry had to suppress a little laugh. “No,” he replied honestly. “Fortunately Dan had the forethought to give me a small bottle of his. Nice, plain, ordinary, manly shampoo,” he assured Ron. He may not have been using her shampoo, but he did make sure to take note of which kind it was this morning.

Seemingly satisfied, Ron started walking idly around the store, waiting for them to finish. Harry went over to the used book shelf to see if Hermione had found anything she liked.

“Anything new?” he asked her.

“A few,” Hermione replied without much enthusiasm. “They haven’t gotten in that big shipment yet that she mentioned, but there are some new ones here.”

“How can you tell?”

“She actually has these shelves sorted by when she got the books in,” she explained. “Evidently she gets a lot of people who come in regularly and browse the used books. It’s a lot easier to do that if you know that the newest ones are on the top most shelf.”

Hermione then pointed to a book five in from the right side on the top shelf. “This book was the newest one the last time we were here. These are the new ones since then,” she said, indicating the dozen or so to the left of that one. “This way, I only have to remember the title of this one book if I know I’m going to come in soon. Everything to the left of that is new.”

“Makes sense,” Harry admitted. And it did. If one came in regularly and wasn’t looking for anything specific, it certainly seemed to be the most efficient way to organize the used books. A person only had to look through the new ones. “Find anything you like?”

“Actually... yes,” she said suddenly, grinning, as her eyes landed on the second to last new one. “Never got around to reading the book. The movie was amazing, so let’s see how the book is.” She then pulled the book she found off the shelf and handed it to Harry.

“Jurassic Park. What’s it about? A retirement community?” Harry asked honestly.

Seeing that he was serious, Hermione resisted the urge to swat his arm and prevented herself from laughing. Just barely.

“No, I think you’re thinking Geriatric Park. You’ve got your words mixed up,” she explained. “This is a story about an island... sort of a biological preserve... where scientists bring dinosaurs back to life.”

“Dinosaurs?” Harry asked incredulously. “As in really big lizards? As in makes a Hungarian Horntail look like a puppy?”

“Or as in really big birds, depending on your point of view,” she added, confusing Harry. “Never mind.”

“Are you two done yet?” Ron whined quietly, coming up to them.

“Just a little bit, Ron,” Hermione responded. “Just go look around for a minute, or go on up with Mum and Dad.”

“I’ve already been there. And I’ve already looked at the entire store here! Let’s go!”

Harry could see as Hermione looked straight ahead (away from Ron) and then rolled her eyes at the book shelf. “Fine!” she hissed. Ron was lucky there were only about a dozen new books that she needed to look at. She went over to the sales counter and bought her book. Harry and Ron followed behind her.

“Remember, my next big shipment of used books should be in around the nineteenth or so. Be sure to stop by again,” the shop owner said. Harry noticed that she was directing her speech at both Hermione and him.

“I will,” Hermione promised. “Goodbye.”

“Have a nice day, dear,” the owner told Hermione. “Goodbye,” she then said to Harry friendlily. He replied in kind. She then said goodbye to Ron.

“Bye,” Ron said quickly, though not rudely.

None of them heard the owner mutter to herself after they left the store, “Third wheel.”

Ron looked very uncomfortable in the bath shop. He ended up following close behind Harry as he did the “walking around” thing, like he did the first time. Dan and Emma evidently still had plenty of whatever it was pink they’d bought last time, so they decided to look for a new natural scrubbing sponge this time.

After he bumped into him for the third time, Harry was about to tell Ron to just go wait outside if he didn’t like it in here so much. He stopped himself, however, when something caught his eye. At first, he was surprised to see something like that. But then as he looked around the store and saw all the different kinds of specialty soaps and shampoos, he realized he really shouldn’t have been surprised at all.

He’d never associated any specific fragrances to her, but seeing this, for some reason it just reminded him of Luna Lovegood. He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and opened the top.

“Here, Ron, smell this,” Harry said, shoving the open bottle directly under his nose. He made sure his hand covered the label.

Ron jerked back in reflex, but not before getting a good whiff of it. He visibly stuttered as the scent registered with his brain. A look of wonder slowly came over his face.

“What is that?” he asked, very curious.

“What does it smell like?” Harry asked knowingly.

“For some reason, it reminds me of...” Ron trailed off, thinking. A moment later, he quickly looked away, embarrassed. “It smells like... pumpkin,” he finally said, since he knew he had to say something to try to cover his first, aborted sentence.

Harry repressed a smirk and handed him the bottle of Pumpkin Essence Shampoo. “Amazing what they can come up with these days,” Harry said, before leaving Ron alone with his shampoo.

Ten minutes later, they finally left the store. Emma bought a new sponge; Ginny had two bags of stuff. Though Ron didn’t buy anything, Harry did notice him go back and smell the pumpkin shampoo twice more before they finally left.

Skipping the department store this time, the walk down to the end of the promenade and back to their starting point in the center was very brief. Back at the entrance in the middle, Dan and Harry quickly ran everyone’s purchases out to the car so they wouldn’t have to carry them around in the grocery store.

With a large shopping center attached to it and customers bringing shopping bags in with them, the grocery store was very susceptible to... shrinkage. As such, “Customer Assistance Representatives” were stationed at the entrances to inspect bags. They were an effective deterrent to those who might be tempted to pilfer the produce or purloin some sirloin.

As they walked toward the grocery store, Dan and Emma kept Ron and Ginny with them, chatting all the while, getting to know their daughter’s other friends better. This allowed Harry and Hermione to fall back a few steps to walk separately from them. They were still close enough to hear the conversation and contribute when necessary. For the most part however, the two of them simply enjoyed walking side by side.

Separately, both of them knew that they were walking far closer to each other than they otherwise normally might. Neither of them however wanted to say anything about it as it might cause the other to move away. And so neither did. As a result, they continued to walk, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, behind the others, both secretly enjoying it.

Ron and Harry went into the sporting goods store after Ginny dragged Hermione into what Harry called the “teenage girl’s jewelry store,” which was on the opposite side of the promenade. Dan and Emma went to go sit down on one of the benches in the center, between the two stores.

“When Ginny went to grab Hermione, did you notice how close the two of them were walking together?” Emma asked Dan.

“Yeah,” Dan confirmed. “It’s obvious that they certainly seem to enjoy each other’s presence.”

“I nearly started crying seeing her hold onto him after he collapsed in the office,” Emma admitted. “And the way he grabbed hold of her arm once he realized it was her, you’d think he was afraid of falling down again if he let go... even though he was already down.

“Is there really any doubt in your mind anymore about his feelings?” she then asked Dan cautiously.

“No, I don’t think there ever was,” he admitted. “I was just trying to slow you down a little,” he said with a sheepish grin. Emma playfully swatted his arm.

“Patience, luv,” Dan advised, again sensing where she was about to go. “It’s not even been twenty-four hours. Now, granted it has been a very busy day, but it’s still only been one day. After hiding her feelings for years, she’s not going to admit them,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that.

“And Harry...” he continued, “I don’t know when he developed feelings for her, but it was very recently.” Emma turned to look at Dan, eyebrows raised.

“All I know is that he didn’t have romantic feelings for her, consciously at least, when we had our little chat.” Dan explained. “What was it, Monday last? I may have already known him from five years of her letters, but I’m still a dad. I had to size him up, to see if he was as advertised.”

Sitting on the bench, Dan looked into the sporting goods store and watched as Harry pointed out to Ron the various sporting instruments.

“What about Ron and Ginny?” he suddenly asked. “Do you think they know? Or see it?”

“Well, Ron... from what I’ve read... and from what I’ve seen of him today, he’s a wonderful friend for them,” Emma said. “I suspect, however, that there are times you could drive a lorry through his bedroom and he wouldn’t notice it. And he really does have the worst timing in the world,” she said, winking at Dan.

“Ginny, on the other hand, is a different story,” Emma began. “I don’t want to say she suspects them, but the thought has certainly crossed her mind.” It was Dan’s turn to look at Emma with eyebrows raised in surprise.

“She actually asked me about them today,” Emma confessed. “As we were coming back to the lift from the cafeteria, she asked me if I thought there was anything going on between the two of them.”

“She just brought that up, right after what happened?” Dan asked in surprise, almost offended.

“Well...” Emma paused, shifted slightly, and looked quite guilty. “It may not have been entirely from out of nowhere. I’d been asking her about Harry, and telling her how much we’ve enjoyed having him with us. I... uh... may have gotten a little carried away, and made a comment or two about how good of friends they are. It may have gotten her to thinking.”

“You just can’t keep your big mouth shut, can you?” Dan said with a grin in an entirely teasing voice. He’d teased her similarly this morning after her little outburst back in Diagon Alley.

Emma knew he was teasing and could give as good as she got. “Nope. Besides, I thought you liked it when I opened my mouth,” she said with a great big smirk. Dan actually blushed at that, and quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them.

“You were saying about Ginny?” he said quickly, desperate to not allow this particular conversation to continue any further... at least in public.

“Anyway, so I was going on and on—”

“And on,” Dan reminded her.

“—about the two of them,” Emma resumed, again looking guilty. “On our way back to the lift, she asked if I thought there was anything going on between them.”

“And?”

“And I told her the truth,” Emma said. “I told her that I hadn’t seen anything to indicate that there was anything going on between them. I also reminded her that Harry was dealing with the loss of Sirius, and that he was going through a difficult time.

“I told her that all three of us were trying to help him with that while he was with us, and it was perfectly natural that the two of them... or the four of us even,” Emma added, “might seem a little closer because of it.

“That seemed to placate her. Fortunately, she never did flat out ask if I thought either of them fancied the other,” she said, obviously relieved. “I can be selective about volunteering unnecessary information just fine, but I’ve never been a good liar.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Dan added with a smirk, thinking of her pathetic excuse about Crookshanks this morning.

Emma thought about it a little more. “It goes back to what Hermione and I talked about last night,” she explained. “She told me that she knew who the competition was. She said she worried about Ginny and another girl called Luna, about them drawing his attention.

“Ginny obviously knows who her competition is too,” Emma said with a small, satisfied grin. “Hermione said that she, Ginny, asked him out yesterday, and that he said no. I think if she’s realized that he doesn’t fancy her, that she’s now stepping back a little and is beginning to notice things, about the two of them... things she might’ve missed before because she was too close.

“It’ll be interesting to see if...” Emma trailed off as she saw Harry and Ron coming out of the sporting goods store.

“Anything exciting?” Dan asked Ron.

“Well, cricket sounds interesting enough, but I’ll take a broom and a Snitch any day,” Ron said. “Have either of you seen a Quidditch game before?” he asked quietly. Dan and Emma shook their heads.

“Well, you see, there’s the problem,” Ron decided. “You can’t appreciate a game like that without seeing it in person.”

“Well, we’ve heard about it from Hermione,” Dan defended.

“No offense, Mr. Granger,” Ron said, “but Hermione telling you about Quidditch is like... well... like me telling you about... the goblin riots of 1645, or whatever year they happened.”

“1546, Ron,” Harry said behind him, then shook his head and shrugged his shoulders to Dan to indicate he really didn’t know either and was just kidding.

“Exactly!” Ron said, thinking that Harry just proved his point... which, in a way, he did.

Dan and Emma just smiled and didn’t say anything in response. While they knew Hermione did know a lot more about Quidditch than she let on, they also knew Ron was right about one thing. They knew there were seven players on a team, and they suspected that there was more to the game than just what the Seeker did.

“You know, you guys should come to one of our games some time,” Ron suddenly said, looking very excited. Harry turned to look at Ron with a look that suggested to Dan that if it weren’t for Hermione, he might just kiss him for that.

Dan laughed a little. “Well, I don’t know if that’s possible, Ron,” Dan said, trying not to get too excited by the idea.

“Sure it is!” Ron countered. “Parents come to games loads of times!”

“But how would we get there?” Dan pointed out.

“Oh yeah,” Ron realized. “I didn’t think about that.”

Harry stepped in at this point. “If we figure out a way, would you guys like to come to a game sometime?” he asked very hopefully.

Dan and Emma could both see his eagerness at the idea, which in all honesty they shared. They looked at each other; there really was no way they could turn down an opportunity like that. They’d never seen anything of their daughter’s world more than Diagon Alley, and after today, the Ministry.

“If you guys can figure out how to get us there, and if we can coordinate our schedules, then...” Emma trailed off, grinning, “HELL YES!” All four of them started laughing at that.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked them all as she and Ginny walked up.

“What’d you buy?” Ron asked Ginny when he saw her carrying a bag from the jewelry store, starting a separate conversation that overlapped the other.

“Oh, your mum was just swearing again,” Harry replied with a grin.

“Earrings,” Ginny answered.

“What about, this time?” Hermione inquired as she looked at her mother, jokingly shaking a finger at her like a parent scolding a child.

“Hey, today’s my one bad day a year!” Emma defended.

“How’d you buy them?” Ron asked.

“Oh, Ron actually had the brilliant idea to ask your parents to come to school some time and watch a Quidditch match,” Harry explained. “If we can figure out how to get them there, that is.”

“Hermione bought them for me. I didn’t have any Mu... any pounds with me, so she paid for them. I gave her some Galleons when the cashier wasn’t looking,” Ginny explained.

“OH! That would be SO wonderful if you could come some time,” Hermione exclaimed, very excited. “I’m sure there are many ways to get them there... or at least to Hogsmeade. We’ll figure out a way, I promise!”

“Wait! What? You’re coming to school with us?” Ginny suddenly asked Dan and Emma when the other conversation registered in her mind.

“Maybe,” Emma said, “to watch one of your Quidditch matches, if there’s a way we can get there.”

“I’ll ask Dad,” Ginny offered. “They bring Muggle parents in for graduation ceremonies every year. I don’t know how, but I know they do.”

“Well, the season doesn’t start for several months, so let’s worry about this later,” Emma said, eager to get them moving again.

* * *

“Now this is a cool store!” Ron exclaimed as they all walked into the games store. Harry immediately took Ron over to look at the chess sets. The six sets he saw the first time were still there, but he also wanted to be sure to get a look at the other display case before he left.

“Oh, Harry. These are so wicked!” Ron said, clearly impressed. “They almost make up for the fact that they don’t move,” he added quietly. Just then, Harry happened to hear the cashier greet Dan and ask if he was enjoying the chess set he’d just bought. Salespeople tended to remember customers who dropped £199 on a chess set without blinking an eye.

Again, two hundred pounds really wasn’t “nothing” to Dan and Emma, but Hermione always asked them for so little, so an indulgence like that once a year or so wasn’t a big deal. Especially considering the recipient.

Harry distracted Ron while the salesperson and Dan spoke. For some reason, he really didn’t want Ron to know how much work Hermione put into getting this present for him, or how much it had cost. With twenty-five thousand Galleons in his own vault now, he assumed Ron wouldn’t make a big issue of it; Harry just felt it was a private matter between himself and Hermione.

No one ended up buying anything, but Ron thoroughly enjoyed the fifteen minutes or so they spent in there. Remembering what stores were between here and there, Harry expected the grocery store would be their next (and final) stop. If Ron enjoyed the game store, he wondered how he’d react to a modern, Muggle megamart.

Returning to the promenade, Hermione made sure to stay with Ginny this time, and behind Harry and Ron. She knew there was a music store near the end, just before the grocery store. She wanted to try to watch Harry and see what he did as he walked by it.

Back at the record store outside The Leaky Cauldron, what he did and the way he said “Nothing” just about drove her insane wondering what he was doing. It therefore was quite maddening when, as they walked by the music store, Harry didn’t go in. He didn’t even look or slow down in the slightest.

He obviously hadn’t bought anything back there, so whatever he talked to the shop owner about, he must’ve gotten it taken care of, since he didn’t seem at all interested in this store. She promised herself she would figure out what he was doing, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

As they walked into the grocery store, Ron was clearly blown away. He looked like... well, exactly like Ron Weasley in a very large building completely filled with food.

“I’ve died and gone on,” he said dreamily.

“Stay!” Harry ordered as Ron was about to wander off on his own. As they started shopping (okay, fine, Emma started hunting and gathering), Dan asked Ron and Ginny a little about some of the more mundane details of wizarding life.

“So I take it you don’t have stores like these where you live, right?”

“Blimey, no,” Ron replied. “If we did, I’d go shopping with Mum all the time!”

“We have... had... a garden. Mum grew a bunch of stuff there,” Ginny explained. “There’s a small shop down in Ottery St. Catchpole where Mum goes to buy the stuff we can’t grow ourselves, but it’s nothing like this.

“I mean, really, it’s little more than a small room with a bunch of shelves. You grab a bag of flour off the shelf and another appears to take its place. I really don’t know how it works,” she said. Harry smiled as he saw Hermione move as if she was about to explain exactly how it worked, but then stopped herself, deciding against it.

“What do you mean ‘had’ a garden?” Dan asked gingerly, realizing he might be straying into dangerous territory, but unable to stop himself at the same time. And speaking of people being unable to stop themselves, he then suddenly reached out to grab hold of Ron’s shoulder to keep him from wandering off again.

“Oh,” Ginny replied easily, since it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “We had to move out for a while, since they felt it might be dangerous, what with You-Know-Who out now.”

A sad look came over her face. “Honestly, after what Dumbledore said today, I don’t know why we have to stay there anymore anyway! They made us move out at the beginning of last holiday,” Ginny explained. “They let Mum and Dad and Bill and Charlie go back midway through the last term.

“But as soon as we came home for holiday again this year, they had to move out again. Honestly!” Ginny exclaimed. Evidently Harry wasn’t the only one to subconsciously pick up Hermione’s preferred interjection. “I think we’re all starting to go stir-crazy there! It certainly isn’t the most inviting of places.

“Dumbledore was right!” Ginny continued, now on a full head of steam (though she was keeping her voice low). “We can’t live in fear of what might happen. I’d rather live in my home, and be just a little bit more at risk, than to be holed up somewhere hidden, out of the way. Harry here is the lucky one in all this. You weren’t exactly at home in Surrey anyway, were you?”

Harry smiled and shook his head in agreement. “At least now you’re with people who don’t bar your windows,” Ginny pointed out.

“And besides, all of us are coming and going often enough that if someone really wanted to get us, they could just wait for us somewhere else. So what if absolutely safe inside? We have to go outside eventually.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that assessment but let it go at that since it didn’t seem that there was much to be done about it. Unbeknownst to them however, on the other side of London an almost identical conversation was occurring via Floo between Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Harry made the mistake of offering to use his pound notes to pay for anything Ron wanted, like Hermione did for Ginny. Once he did, the flood gates were opened. Harry eventually went to grab a second trolley just to keep Ron’s purchases separate when even Hermione could no longer keep track of everything he’d selected.

Grocery shopping was soon finished and they were on their way back to the car. By the time he decided he had enough “for now,” Ron had spent nearly £40, much of it on sweets, snacks, and crisps. He also bought enough Coca Cola to last the average person a month. Ron might get a week out of it... maybe two. No one had the heart to say anything to him however, since every single item he bought was something that was simply not to be found in the wizarding world.

Dan and Emma were both so eager to use their new-found, seemingly-endless cargo space that neither of them would let the teenagers help load the groceries, even Ron’s bags. In fact, there was actually a momentary stare-down when both of them grabbed the last bag at the same time. Emma won of course.

Back on Broomhill Road however, the four witches and wizards were not so fortunate. By the time they got home, the newness of the Always Room charm was gone, and now it was just like any other storage compartment. Everyone helped take the groceries in (not that anyone complained, though).

Round about half-past five, a brief, soft roar of fire could be heard in the kitchen. Harry turned around and looked into the kitchen from the loveseat where he was sitting. He saw a piece of parchment float down onto the table, accompanied by a single phoenix feather.

As he went to retrieve it, he continued to listen as Ron and Ginny, on the sofa, recounted some of their adventures, from their point of view. Dan and Emma, sitting on chairs they’d brought in from the kitchen, listened with rapture. They were always eager to learn more about the magical world, to say nothing of their desire to better get to know Ron and Ginny.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as Harry sat back down next to her.

“Professor Dumbledore wanted to know if we were here, and if he could drop in,” he said after reading the note.

“Tell him yes, of course,” Emma insisted. Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the piece of parchment twice, as per the instructions. Less than a minute later, both Dumbledore and Fawkes arrived in the kitchen.

After a few brief greetings, everyone returned to the living room to get more comfortable. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore quickly resized the entire room to accommodate a second loveseat along with his usual preferred armchair, so that everyone could be comfortable. As they sat down, Dan and Emma stared curiously at Fawkes for several seconds.

“Is... is that a phoenix?” Dan asked in awe.

Dumbledore smiled. “Quite right, Mr. Granger! It pleases me that you recognize him.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” Dan admitted, then smiled. “I mean, not even in the movies or on television, not life-like. All I’ve ever seen were sketches in books and cartoon renditions. He’s truly beautiful.”

Fawkes trilled softly then tucked his head under his wing, as if embarrassed.

“So, what brings you by this evening, Headmaster?” Emma asked. “Dinner?” she asked suggestively, remembering his earlier comment.

“No, I’m afraid not, Mrs. Granger. I find myself needed elsewhere this evening. I have a meeting or two to attend,” Dumbledore explained. “I did however want to stop by and bring an update on that little incident earlier this afternoon. Miss Granger, are you still taking a subscription to the Prophet?” Hermione nodded.

“You will be getting a special edition soon this evening, reporting on the day’s events. As they are all already en route, and the MLE investigators left Azkaban not fifteen minutes ago, it will be lacking in any conclusive information.

“Here is what we have been able to piece together,” Dumbledore began. “Now, this is based on prisoner witness statements and Auror debriefings, along with what you told us this afternoon. Eight prisoners were taken to Azkaban this afternoon. One of them, it seems, may not have gotten himself arrested by accident.

“As you may or may not know, Lucius Malfoy insisted that he have a hearing today. Mere minutes before it was scheduled to begin, the dementors attacked. Whilst Mr. Scrimgeour and the guards were attempting to repel them, those prisoners huddled in a corner, hoping to stay out of the way. One did not.

“One of the prisoners slipped away from the group and made his way to the guard station,” Dumbledore narrated. “All of the guards were fighting so it was unattended. He immediately pulled the cell-door release lever. All of the cells were suddenly unlocked. The first prisoner to escape found himself facing the battle as it was between him and the way out.

“We assume he did not know the dementors were there assisting in the escape. Whether he was charging to attack the nearest dementor barehanded in self-defense, or simply trying to run around the battle will never be known. The nearest dementor however did not distinguish. It swooped down and performed the kiss mid-run. He fell, dead.

“Losing prisoners was most likely not part of Voldemort’s plan. The prisoner who’d opened the cells saw this and, it seems, moved to try to stop the dementor. A second one abandoned its advance on a guard and turned instead on the unarmed prisoner. As you know, dementors will not distinguish between those they hunt and those who get in their way.

“All dementors can feel when a soul has been taken by any one of them. By then, with the absorption of two souls, their... blood lust, for lack of a more fitting term, took over.”

“Is this what worried you so about the dementors, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, Miss Granger. The dementors were perfectly content to work in our employ at Azkaban, as long as they were kept well fed by the feelings and memories of the prisoners. Lord Voldemort, no doubt, must have promised them more: souls. In actuality, the dementor’s kiss was rarely performed. Most prisoners wasted away on their own.

“When it did happen, it was usually during an attempted escape,” Dumbledore explained. “That is why no one, almost no one, ever escaped Azkaban. A prisoner without a wand stood virtually no chance outside of his or her cell.”

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Harry cleared his throat. “So, are you saying the dementors simply got carried away?” he asked.

Dumbledore thought about it for a few moments. “Essentially, yes. They were there for a reason. When prisoners, and even accomplices got in the way, the dementors made no distinction.

“The situation rapidly deteriorated from there. Emboldened by their first two kills, the dementors turned on anyone out in the open, including the seven remaining prisoners. All were kissed. The guards’ Patronuses were effective for a while, however they were quickly outnumbered two-to-one by the dementors. None survived.”

Dumbledore paused for a moment. “All of the other prisoners, witnessing this, remained in their cells. Whilst a dementor can feed off a person’s feelings merely by being in proximity, they must make physical contact to perform the kiss. The cells in Azkaban were designed as much to keep the prisoners in as to keep the dementors out. Even unlocked, as long as the doors were closed, the remaining prisoners were safe... from the kiss, at least.

“By the time the Aurors arrived (and the cell doors relocked), every soul outside of a cell in that part of the prison had been taken. A closed hallway door prevented the dementors from killing every guard in Azkaban. The dementors waited there, hungry for more. Only the immediate, simultaneous casting of Patronuses by the Aurors was able to push the dementors back. A Patronus can destroy a dementor. As such, they began to retreat.

“At this point, you heard what Mr. Shacklebolt said. Outside, the Death Eater landing party arrived. Still hungry for souls, the dementors then turned on them too.”

“Didn’t Voldemort think this might happen?” Harry asked.

“Tom has a very narrow view of the world, Harry” Dumbledore explained. “You are either pureblood, or you are not. You either have power, or you do not. In his mind, the only way to have power is to use it, against people. You are either with him, or you are against him.

“That, I think, is the source of his defeat today,” Dumbledore explained. “Since the dementors were not against him, then by his reasoning, they must have been with him. He would not believe that they simply had their own agenda, and for the moment, their separate objectives merely coincided on the same path.”

“What happens next?” Harry asked.

“I do not know,” Dumbledore admitted. “The dementors took thirty souls today. Dementors feed off the feelings, thoughts, and memories of humans. It sustains them. Taking a soul, if you’ll forgive the analogy, is like giving them a stimulant, or a vitamin boost.

“The stolen life force makes them stronger, gives them... energy. For all the talk of the dementor’s kiss, it is quite rare when they actually take even one soul. No one knows what might result from taking thirty.”

“What do we do?” Harry asked, interrupting the ominous mood that had settled upon them.

“For now, we be patient,” Dumbledore told them again. “Revision on the Patronus charm is certainly a good idea, but other than that, we be vigilant and go on with our lives.” Everyone in the room nodded at that.

“Well, Fawkes and I must be on our way,” Dumbledore said, standing up. “I have to—” His words were cut off by a sound coming from upstairs. Both Harry and Hermione recognized the almost barking-like sound from the day before.

“Metis!” Hermione gasped.

“Please wait here,” Dumbledore said calmly, then walked absolutely silently up the stairs, drawing his wand as he went. A few seconds after he entered Hermione’s room, everyone could hear him chuckle and then speak fondly to someone, though they couldn’t make out his words. He returned downstairs a few moments later, smiling and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

“A fine guard owl you have there, Miss Granger,” the Headmaster told her as he handed her the paper. “I am quite sure the owl that delivered this still does not know what hit him. Do not worry, Miss Granger. No actual contact was made,” he assured her after seeing the concerned look on her face.

“Metis merely had him cornered. It is a good thing the Prophet employs owls in shifts. I dare say this particular owl will not want to deliver here again. Wizarding owls, familiars in particular, can be very protective of those they value.”

“It’s a good thing Metis and Hedwig seem to get along just fine,” Harry noted with a grin.

“It is,” Dumbledore agreed, returning the smile.

“Sorry, Ron,” Hermione apologized, also smiling, as she remembered Metis’s reaction to Pig the previous day.

“That’s okay,” Ron said. “He tends to bring out that reaction a lot. Errol was too old to care, but Hermes tolerates him barely. I guess they have to since they’re like brothers, or something like that. I guess that’s the same with your two.”

“Something like that,” Dumbledore said. He smiled, then pulled out his wand since everyone was standing. After returning the room to normal, he held his arm out towards Fawkes.

“Oh, before you go, Professor,” Dan began. “Mr. Weasley asked if it would be possible for you to leave a Portkey, if it isn’t too much to ask, so that Ron and Ginny could return tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore agreed. “It is a rather long journey there and back. Does anyone have something they can take with them, that I might use?”

Ron pulled one of the pieces of candy he bought out of his pocket and handed it to him. Dumbledore took it, smiling, and thanked him. As he charmed it into a Portkey, Ginny reminded Ron, “You do realize that you can’t eat that now, until after we get back?”

“Oh yeah,” Ron said, looking disappointed. “Oh well, there’s plenty more,” he said happily, looking over at his shopping bags that were sitting in the corner.

“Five o’clock tomorrow,” Dumbledore told them as he handed back the piece of candy. “If that’s everything, I will wish you all a good day.” After everyone said goodbye, Dumbledore looked at Fawkes, who extended his wings. He flapped them once; the two of them rose off the ground a fraction of an inch then disappeared in a flash of fire.

---

Here is another manip done by Evernight. I like it because it brings to life a scene that otherwise night get lost in the words.

Scene from Chapter 23.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that’s the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: Previously: “Maybe NEXT chapter will be a ten-pager in only one week!! Heh heh heh... we’ll see!)...” NOPE!!! As Emma once said, “Damn it!”

I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to get this out. This really is the ten pager (well, fourteen) in one week I’d promised you. At least, it only took a week to write. Unfortunately there were also about ten days in there where I didn’t get any writing done. Easter, visiting family, a minor technical issue, and other RL issues all played a part. I think there were even some flying monkeys in there too! Sigh...

A couple notes: Yes, my cat does make another guest appearance here. Honestly, you can’t make this stuff up! There is a truly hideous bit of grammar in this chapter. It’s an intentional play on words based on something Harry has no doubt heard numerous times.

And finally... you may or may not have noticed, but I rarely use any heavy-duty swear words (based on what you can see in primetime US broadcast TV) in this story. For the most part, I find them over-used in everyday life. That said, there are times when a good $!#%& is just what is needed to fit the mood. There’s one in here. ;-)

Thanks to my beta, MapleMountain, for everything you do!

---

Chapter 25. Dinner and a Movie.

Hermione quickly read through her special edition of The Daily Prophet after the departure of the Headmaster.

“There really isn’t much of anything in here,” she said as she set the paper in her lap. “It’s all pretty much just what Kingsley told us when he first arrived. That and repeated reminders that no prisoners escaped and that Death Eaters were also killed. Nothing the Headmaster told us was in there.”

“Even wizards have press deadlines,” Dan observed.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Emma asked.

“For now, be patient,” Hermione said, repeating the Headmaster’s words.

“Exactly!” Emma exclaimed in triumph. “So, for now, let’s put the paper away and enjoy the rest of the evening!”

No one could argue with that.

After Ginny asked Hermione to see her room, Ron and Harry tried to explain the rules of Quidditch to Dan. For the next several minutes, he nodded at all the appropriate times while trying to follow Ron’s exuberant explanation of how the game was played. There certainly was more to Quidditch than just the Seeker catching the Snitch. In all honesty though, football still sounded more exciting to him. He supposed a person just had to see it for himself to get it.

Then again, Dan wasn’t much of a footballer either. He never really was into sports. He could watch and enjoy a game just fine, but he never went out of his way to see one. No, he—like his wife and daughter—definitely tended to prefer a book to a ball, a lightsaber to a baseball bat.

Once the talk of Quidditch seemed to dry up, Ron, eager to have another go on Harry’s new chess set, challenged him to a game. Harry, not eager to lose for a third time in two days, declined.

“I’ll play,” Dan volunteered.

“Perfect!” Ron exclaimed. “C’mon Harry, let’s go get that set of yours and show him the proper way to play chess.”

* * *

“I love your room,” Ginny said to Hermione as she walked around, looking at everything. “That was one good thing about being the only girl in family of seven children: I never had to share a room with anyone.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said quietly, “I think it might’ve been nice having a brother or sister around sometimes. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Harry all those years with his relatives. You can hardly count his cousin as a sibling.”

“Harry,” Ginny said flatly upon hearing her best friend bring his name into the conversation.

Why am I getting so jealous all of the sudden whenever she says his name? Ginny asked herself. She’d been okay—not happy, but at least okay—with the idea of Harry living with Hermione, ever since she first read her letter. This was just temporary, and then they all go back to school. She and Harry could get together, and Ron and Hermione could get together (somehow, she hoped, if her brother didn’t screw it up), and then the four of them could be one big happy family and live happily ever after.

But then her perfect plan started to fall apart. Not only did Hermione seem to miss every chance that popped up for her and Ron to spend some time together yesterday and today, but she also managed to somehow appear whenever she and Harry had a minute alone together. Now, of course it was all coincidental, but it was bloody annoying.

Then, as icing on the cake, Ron somehow managed to pick that day, of all days, to notice Luna Lovegood. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the quirky Ravenclaw; it was just that things were simpler (for her) if Ron and Hermione got together. But, in the end, none of it would matter.

In the end, she just decided to go for it. She’d always hoped he would ask her out, that he’d just fly in and sweep her off her feet. But now seeing signs that the second half of her perfect family scenario might not go according to plan, and sensing (at the time) something going on between Harry and Hermione (which thankfully today Hermione’s mum explained away), she just decided she would ask him.

It was easily the most painful thing she’d ever experienced. That whole episode with You-Know-Who back in first year really wasn’t painful, not like this was. She simply hadn’t been aware of any of it at the time. It was one thing to wake up and wonder why you had feathers on your jumper. It was another entirely to have your hero, the boy you practically worshipped, tell you that he didn’t fancy you.

And yet, and she would have never thought it possible, but after her heart had been ripped out (on its own... he didn’t do it), he’d actually been able to make her feel better about it afterwards. Everything he said made it that much more bearable. Harry Potter said no, and she survived.

Besides, what’s there to be jealous of? This is Hermione Granger of all people, after all. When she looks at him, she doesn’t see THE Harry Potter. I see him, who he is: the Boy Who Lived... the savior of the wizarding world. All she sees is her best friend... “just Harry.” Not that there’s nothing wrong with that... that’s just the difference between us. Besides, her mum said they didn’t fancy each other. Maybe I... Ginny stopped herself, realizing that she wasn’t paying attention to what Hermione was saying.

“... any friends either, but at least I had my parents here for me,” Hermione explained solemnly. “That was one of the things Mum and I, and Dad, wanted to do for him while he was here: just be there for him, you know? Just provide support but not overwhelm him.”

Why couldn’t he have spent these last few weeks with us? Ginny half-wondered, half-complained. Oh yeah, that’s why: Prat-Face Percy. Something Hermione said did stick out in her mind though. Mum WOULD probably have smothered him. If he was as bad as he was at the end of school, he probably would’ve never left his room, just like at Christmas, she conceded.

Ginny thought back to what she’d seen of Harry yesterday at his birthday party and today while they were shopping. He DOES look a lot happier than the last time I saw him in June. If being here did that, then who am I to take that away? I CAN be jealous of Hermione getting all that time with him, she thought to herself with a grin, but I could never take his happiness away from him.

Looking over, Ginny saw Hermione with her back to her, straightening her collection of stuffed animals on the bookshelf. I’m just annoyed that she’s the one getting to spend all this time with him, rather than me, she admitted to herself as she sat down on Hermione’s bed. Her smile broadened as she saw the stuffed animals at the head of the bed. She picked up the one that looked like a deer and started stroking it absently, the shape of it not consciously sinking in.

I mean, who WOULDN’T want to spend the summer with the Boy Who Lived?

Something she’d just thought suddenly registered with something she’d heard Hermione say yesterday. She’d meant to ask about it, but got distracted by the party.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me. Right before you gave Harry his snog, you mentioned a song, something about needing a hero. What was that?”

* * *

“Oh, that,” Hermione said, not turning around. She didn’t want Ginny to see her so embarrassed. That song was rather special to her; she knew she’d gotten a little carried by it when she started quoting the lines.

“It’s a song I heard my mum playing one day a couple years ago,” she explained selectively. “Everyone was talking about Harry being the hero, so that reminded me of parts of the song.”

“Can I hear it?” Ginny asked.

Hermione turned around to face her best female friend and nearly panicked. She saw that Ginny was holding her stuffed animal... the one she’d searched high and low for... the one that was like Harry’s Patronus.

She’d actually found her otter before Harry’s stag. One wasn’t likely to walk into a toy store and say, “Yes, I’d like a stag please.” Stuffed animals like that weren’t exactly commonplace. So she’d found this one instead. Sure it could do double duty as a deer or a reindeer, but that didn’t matter; it was the thought that counted. It was something of Harry that she could hold onto when she needed to.

And now Ginny was holding it.

Damn it! Hermione cursed to herself as she smiled at Ginny. “Okay,” she replied, eager to leave the room for a moment. She was mad at herself for forgetting about that. As soon as they’d gotten home, she ran upstairs to hide her two pictures of Harry... the framed issue of The Quibbler and Colin’s picture of Harry from Quidditch practice.

She probably could have explained away the Quidditch picture as a picture of the team... even though in her mind it was clearly a picture of Harry. The Quibbler, however, was a lot harder, so she just hid both of them in her closet.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Hermione said as she walked out the door. “The CD’s still in the stereo downstairs.” Down in the living room, as she retrieved the CD, she heard her mum in the kitchen.

“Hermione, dear?” Emma called upon seeing her. “Any recommendations for dinner? I’d like to make something, or go somewhere, for something that Ron and Ginny haven’t had before.”

Hermione had to stop and think about it for a moment. “Well, if we hadn’t had it the day before yesterday, I’d say Chinese again. I’m sure they’d like that. Hmm... How about pizza? I’m sure they’d love it. And they can take the leftovers home, since we had it last week.”

Emma grinned. “Well, I’m not sure that your father would be too happy about giving away all the leftovers, but that sounds good. Eat out, or takeaway?”

“Let’s go out,” Hermione suggested. “We had takeaway last time. And besides, I haven’t gone out for pizza in years. HEY! Is that place we used to go to still open?” Emma nodded, smiling. “Let’s go there!”

“Okay, half an hour?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, barely hearing her as she quickly returned to her room with the CD. She was so excited to be going to the pizza parlor they hadn’t gone to since she started going to Hogwarts that she forgot all about worrying about her stuffed animals.

Back in her room, she put the CD in her player, forwarded to the appropriate song, then hit play.

* * *

Ron took a quick look around as the two of them walked into Harry’s room. “Loads better than your old room at the Dursleys’, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry readily agreed. “At least here, the only lock on my door is on the inside of the room.” Ron nodded quietly but would not meet Harry’s eyes.

“What’s this?” he asked, seeing Neville’s present on the windowsill.

“It’s called a Venus Fly Trap. It’s a Muggle plant that actually catches and eats bugs,” Harry explained.

“Really? How does it do that?” Ron asked disbelievingly as he was about to poke one of the open traps with his finger.

“Do that, and find out,” Harry said to Ron with a grin as he nodded towards the outstretched finger. Ron looked closer at the plant. Upon seeing that the traps actually looked a little like open jaws, and also that two of them were closed with something trapped inside, he quickly withdrew his finger. He started rubbing it protectively as if it had been bitten.

“Um... that’s okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hello, girl,” Harry greeted Hedwig, noticing that she was now awake. He fed her a few owl treats, then reached into her cage, patting her head. “Oh, and by the way, Metis made a delivery for me while you were sleeping, so I wouldn’t have to wake you up. So you had better be nice to each other, okay?” Hedwig pushed her head into Harry’s patting, then reached up and nipped at his fingers affectionately.

Ron chuckled. Harry turned around to find him looking at the empty box next to him... the box his boxers came in.

“You have to admit, that was pretty funny,” Ron said.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky your birthday is like eight months from now. I’ll buy a pair of boxers and give them to you in front of Luna.”

The smile immediately faded from Ron’s face. “You wouldn’t, would you?” Harry just gave him the same innocent smile he gave Fred and George at his birthday party. “And also, why do you keep teasing me about Luna?”

Harry just smiled at Ron as he remembered everything that had happened in the last two days: from Ron’s “She is kinda cute” and “I’ll give it a shot” at the birthday party, to his sudden disappearance after Harry thought he saw a blonde walk by Madam Malkin’s. Sure, it could have been his imagination, and it all could have been a bunch of coincidences, but he wasn’t going to let Ron get away with it that easily. After all, what were best mates for if not to tease each other about girls?

“I don’t know,” Harry said suggestively. “Is there a reason I should be teasing you about her?”

“Of course not,” Ron answered a little too quickly, then turned back to the desk where the chess set was sitting. Even from the back, Harry could see his ears turning red. He decided to let it go however, since it was too easy for Ron to turn it around and say something about him and Hermione, even just as a joke. Though as far as he knew, his ears did not turn red, he suspected his reaction would be just as readable as Ron’s.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Ron started (Harry gulped). “At your party, Hermione said something about a song. She sounded like she was quoting lines from it. What was that all about?”

Almost as if on cue, they heard Hermione’s CD player begin to play.

“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?”

“Speak of the devil,” Harry said, grinning, as he held his hand out towards the wall, indicating the direction of Hermione’s room. The two of them walked into her room to be better able to hear the song, Ron carrying the chess set. They watched as Ginny flittered around the room, looking around, her hand or head occasionally moving to the rhythm of the song.

Harry noticed Hermione taking her last two stuffed animals that were once on her bed, and putting them in her bookcase that held all the others. In the process, she accidentally knocked one over. Righting it, it now partially hid the reindeer.

“Where’d you get this?” Ginny asked, picking up the photograph of Ron, Harry, and Hermione from first year.

“From Hagrid,” Hermione answered.

“How come Ron didn’t get one?”

“Get one what?” Ron asked, hearing his name and walking over to his sister.

“Well, maybe he didn’t ask for one,” Hermione replied.

“Ehh,” Ron dismissed. “I’m not a pictures sort of bloke anyway. I have to see his sorry face enough as it is,” he teased.

“I’m honored,” Harry said dramatically. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll cross you out of mine, and it’ll just be me and Hermione,” he teased back to Ron. Ginny looked at him curiously for a moment, then shook her head and looked at Hermione.

“Boys!” Ginny jokingly complained. Once the song finished, Hermione switched off her CD player, then the four of them headed downstairs in anticipation for going out to dinner. There was still enough time for one game of chess.

Looking back, Ron would learn a valuable lesson from this particular game of chess game. It started out perfectly normal until one of Ron’s pawns took one of Dan’s. The adult Grangers were caught completely by surprise that this set was now a wizarding set. They gasped in shock at seeing the pieces come alive.

Harry knew that Dan was at least aware of Wizard’s Chess; he himself had mentioned it to him during their first shopping trip. It seemed obvious however that they didn’t know this set had been enchanted. Both of them looked over at Hermione questioningly. Harry followed their gaze to see her shake her head slightly. Maybe she didn’t want Ron and Ginny to know about it either.

After that, the game continued normally for three more moves, until Dan started to ask Ron all about Quidditch. He seemed to want to know everything there was to know about it: the history of the game, the most important tactics, even Ron’s favorite team, stories from his own time playing... anything. Once Ron mentioned his favorite team, Dan asked him to tell him all about them.

As this continued for the next fifteen minutes, Harry began to notice something. Dan wasn’t really paying attention to what Ron was saying... not much at least. Just enough to nod appropriately. He was however paying great attention to the chess board.

At the same time, Harry noticed that the more Ron talked, the faster his moves were. Whereas before, he’d been known to take as long as a minute or two to make a move, now that he was telling Dan the history of the Chudley Cannons, he made his moves within five to ten seconds. The longer Dan took to make his move, the more Ron talked, paying little attention to the game. The faster Ron made his own move, the sooner he could go on about the Cannons.

Dan, it seemed, had found Ron’s secret weakness: get him to talk about Quidditch or himself.

Finally, with only fifteen pieces left on the board and Dan thirty seconds into considering his own move, Ron seemed to run out of interesting facts about the Cannons. Either that or he was just tired of talking. He then looked down at the board and began to stare at it. Up to this point in the game, there hadn’t been a single check yet.

“Check,” Dan said finally, after moving his rook. Ron continued to stare at the board. Harry could see him looking over the entire board, twice checking out his own lost pieces, which had dutifully marched back into their case after being shattered by Dan’s. After nearly an entire minute, Ron looked up at Dan with an obvious appearance of awe on his face.

“I’m going to lose, aren’t I?” he asked. There was the slightest hint of irritation buried in there. Harry could tell though that Ron directed it at himself, not his opponent.

“Yes,” Dan said simply with a smile. “I’m actually fairly decent at chess... I had a good teacher,” he admitted with a smile. “But from what I’d heard about you, I didn’t really expect to beat you. But when I realized you were paying more attention to your story than to your game, I decided to take advantage of that.

“There’s a saying that you may or may not have heard before. I’ll modify it to make my point: Flattery will get you everywhere. Don’t let your opponent distract you... with yourself.”

Ron nodded then looked back down at the board one more time. When he surrendered his king at that first check, the rest of his own pieces turned to him and started making rude gestures.

“It’s a tactical surrender,” Ron explained to them. “If you know you’re going to lose, there are times when you fight to the death, and times that you don’t. Besides, there’s always next game,” he promised them. They stopped objecting, and Ron and Dan put the board away.

“Which, if you’re up for it, we can play tomorrow,” Dan offered. Ron readily agreed. “No Quidditch talk next time... or dentistry either,” Dan added.

“Who’s ready for dinner?” Emma asked enthusiastically.

“ME!” Ron replied before anyone else could.

Half an hour later, the six of them found themselves sitting in a pizza parlor in downtown Wandsworth. The Grangers hadn’t been there in over six years. Aside from some minor redecorating, they were pleased that it was exactly the way they remembered it. Hermione especially.

Hermione had always loved coming to this particular restaurant, more than any other. The kitchen where the pizzas were made was separated from the dining area by a series of large side-by-side windows. In front of the windows was a small ledge where small children could stand and watch their pizzas being made, only a foot in front of them.

Immediately after their order was placed, four teenagers—one raven-haired, one brunette, and two ginger—could be seen kneeling on that same ledge, watching their pizzas being made. Dan and Emma had to keep themselves from laughing seeing them next to several smaller children who were standing next to them.

Hermione’s and Emma’s earlier concerns about what to do with the leftovers were to end up being for nothing; with Ron present, there were no leftovers.

After dinner, Ron was curious to see what Muggles found so interesting about tee-vee-vision. It was quickly decided to finish the evening with a movie or two. When informed of the wide range of movies genres, Ginny quickly spoke up.

“Let’s see something scary... but not too scary,” she clarified, and then glanced at her brother. “Something with spiders in it!”

“No! No spiders!” Ron warned.

After shooting Harry a quick grin, Hermione said she knew the perfect movie. Even better, they already had it in their home collection.

“Like a puppy,” she whispered to Harry as she joined him on the loveseat again. Dan and Emma had been sitting there when Ron and Ginny took the sofa; they volunteered to use chairs from the kitchen again when Harry came back from the bathroom.

Ron and Ginny both seemed quite mesmerized by the talking-picture box in the entertainment center, though it was hard to tell if it was from the television set itself or the ominous beginning of the movie.

“What’s in the crate?” Ron asked anxiously as the workers in the movie began the unloading process.

“You’ll see,” Hermione said knowingly.

Ron and Ginny figured out pretty quick what the movie was about, but they had absolutely no expectation as to what they’d actually be seeing. Right as Dr. Hammond welcomed his visitors to Jurassic Park, Ron’s exact words at seeing the dinosaurs on screen were, “NO! BLOODY! WAY!” Harry was no less impressed, though he at least was able to not shout out since he was expecting it after her “puppy” hint.

Movie night would not be complete without popcorn. Once the pizza had settled sufficiently, Dan and Emma got up to make some. Ron kept shooting annoyed glances towards the kitchen. The noise from the hot air popper (and microwave melting the butter) was rather distracting. They returned with three bowls for the six of them to share just as Dr. Hammond shouted to “Check the vending machines!” in their search for Dennis Nedry.

As the smell of freshly popped, hot buttered popcorn permeated the house, the movie goers were quickly joined by one more.

Ginny started looking around curiously as she heard Crookshanks claw his way up the back of the sofa behind her.

“Crookshanks,” Harry answered her unasked question as the orange animal reached the top and began mewing softly, walking back and forth between Ron and Ginny.

“Wha’s’e wan’?” Ron asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Popcorn,” Hermione replied; Ron and Ginny both turned to stare at her.

“The buttered pieces,” Harry clarified.

Meow, Crookshanks asked, slightly more insistently.

Ginny grabbed a piece out of the bowl and held it out towards the cat; Crookshanks ran over to her and ate it greedily.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed. Crookshanks then turned around and returned back to Ron. He turned his purring up to full intensity. Ron, not eager to give away any popcorn, did his best to ignore him. This of course only encouraged the half-Kneazle even more.

As he did with Harry, Crookshanks came up directly beside Ron. He leaned forward on top of the sofa as much as he could, practically purring in Ron’s ear. Still getting no results, he then partially climbed down, putting his front legs onto Ron’s shoulder, letting out the softest, most “I’m so helpless, please feed me” mew.

Ron, not finding this as amusing as everyone else, grabbed a piece of popcorn out of the bowl. He then reached over as far as he could and pretended to set it down on top of the sofa; Crookshanks ran over to eat it. Upon finding none, he then returned to right above Ron’s shoulder and began to clean his face, appearing as though he’d given up on the popcorn.

Ron grinned then held up the piece he’d hidden in his hand.

“See? You just have to be smarter than them, that’s all,” he said confidently. Looking up and seeing Crookshanks was no longer interested, he showed him the piece of popcorn.

“Sorry boy, but this is for me. Popcorn isn’t for YEOWWW!” Ron screeched as the cat suddenly swiped out with his paw, claws out. Ron’s “detained” hand was close enough that Crookshanks was able to grab the piece with his mouth. He then jumped down off the backside of the sofa and raced over to his favorite one, where he knew he could enjoy his prize under her protection.

“You were saying?” Harry asked. Once the pain wore off, even Ron found it amusing. But he did decide not to tease animals with food anymore.

Ron and Ginny loved the movie. They loved it, that is, until the dinosaurs began escaping their paddocks. When the “blood-sucking lawyer” was eaten by the T-Rex, Ron actually lost his appetite. Temporarily. Ten minutes later, he was bugging his sister for the popcorn bowl again. Hermione had cut Crookshanks off after Harry had given him two more pieces; he quickly settled into her lap for a nap, purring contentedly as she stroked his back while she watched the movie.

After the movie, Ron began to stretch out slightly. “Brilliant movie, Harry! Though we should have watched it tomorrow. I’m going to have nightmares for sure now,” he complained. “Hmm... spiders or dinosaurs? Tough call. I think I’ll stick with spiders, since they’re still alive.”

Hermione looked at the clock: it was just nearly ten o’clock. “Well, if you’re up for it, we could watch another movie,” she suggested. “Something funny, maybe.”

Ron let out a great yawn. Since they were contagious, Ginny, Emma, and Harry followed right behind him within a few seconds.

“Yeah, sure,” Ron said enthusiastically, contradicting his oscitancy. Everyone else seemed to share his desire for another movie, even though they all also were starting to feel the pull of a very long day.

Spaceballs was suggested again (since the first part of it was clouded by Harry’s slip of the tongue last night), however the idea was nixed considering there were too many Muggle-jokes that would have to be explained. Try explaining Pizza the Hutt to someone who didn’t know anything about Pizza Hut or Jabba the Hutt...

So, in the end, Emma couldn’t resist, and suggested The Princess Bride again. Since Harry was the last one standing after generously volunteering to put the empty bowls in the kitchen, he, by rule, was forced to go start the movie. At least he didn’t make any declarations this time... at least none heart-felt...

“Be kind. Rewind,” Harry said aloud absently as his attention was drawn to the fluorescent sticker on the rented video cassette sitting on the shelf. He could hear Dan and Emma snicker quietly behind him.

Harry too glanced at the clock as he sat down. He certainly didn’t mind watching the movie again, but it had been a long day. Busy days like that took their toll on a person. He really wanted to see it again, but he knew it was entirely possible he’d fall asleep during it. As the movie began, Harry did his best to stay awake.

SNORE!!!

Harry jolted forward in his seat as Ron’s loud snore woke him up. He had absolutely no idea when he’d fallen asleep. He was pretty sure he’d at least made it to the Fire Swamp, but he couldn’t be sure.

Quickly looking around, he noticed Hermione also was asleep in the loveseat next to him. She was sitting back against the cushion, though her head had rolled over to one side. If she hadn’t been asleep, she’d be looking right at him.

Another loud snore drew Harry’s attention to Ron. He too was sitting upright, though he was leaning slightly. He looked as though if he wasn’t careful, he’d fall over onto Ginny... who also was asleep. She however had her head drooping forward. Harry’s brain wasn’t working too well, but he was pretty sure she was snoring also, though no where as loudly as Ron.

Harry finally turned to see Dan and Emma snuggled against each other (as much as they could in chairs from the kitchen), silently watching the movie. Noticing him stirring, Dan looked over at Harry and shot him a big grin, then glancing over at the sleeping siblings. Harry just smiled and shook his head in amusement.

“We’re going to go to bed,” Dan whispered to Harry. “Are you going to stay up and watch the rest of this?”

Harry looked at the television and remembered that they were near the end of the movie, maybe only about half an hour left. He nodded. As Dan and Emma retired upstairs for the evening, Harry turned and lightly shook Hermione’s arm, whispering her name softly to wake her.

As her eyes fluttered open, a large, happy smile appeared on her face once she could properly see Harry.

“Hi,” she said softly, still slightly foggy as she looked at him. “Now I know what Mum was talking about. I could wake up...” she trailed off once her eyes were fully open.

“I could wake up with a real crick in my neck if I fell asleep on the couch like this again,” she finished, massaging her neck. Another loud snore from Ron drew her attention to the other side of the room as she leaned forward to stretch. Even Harry could hear the small POP! in her neck as she turned her head.

“The movie’s almost over. Do you want to finish it or just stop for the night?” he asked her.

“Let’s just finish it.”

“Should we wake them?” he asked, nodding towards Ron and Ginny.

“Only if you’re going to get up. I’m too comfortable right now,” she said with a grin as she settled back into her seat. Since they’d been sitting there for so long, the cushions of the loveseat had settled slightly in the middle. As a result, she was now leaning towards him ever so slightly. With her that much closer, that decided it for him: Ron and Ginny would not be woken up until they had to get up.

One minute, Harry was watching Westley challenge Prince Humperdinck “to the pain,” and then next, he was on his Firebolt, soaring just above the lake at Hogwarts. And of course, since he was dreaming, the sudden change seemed perfectly natural.

Flying on his broom, the wind blowing through his hair, he felt completely at ease. He was safe. The world made sense; he felt secure, protected. A familiar sound on his left drew his attention; it was his familiar, making a sound. Hedwig was flying along side of him.

“Hello, girl,” he said fondly to her as she flew.

“Careful, Harry. I can get very jealous, you know,” came another familiar voice on his right. He looked over to find Hermione on a broom, flying with him also. Over her shoulder, he could see Metis flying along with her. He looked down and noticed the handle of her broom. He recognized it immediately.

“A Broomhill 8, the beautifulest broom in the world!” he could remember excited voices saying when they saw one in the window of Quality Quidditch Supply back in third year.

Hermione then flew up beside him so that the two of them were flying shoulder to shoulder, exactly like they had been walking in the mall. A moment later, she was sitting directly in front of him, facing him with her arms wrapped tight around him, her face resting on his chest.

Simply enjoying the moment, Harry looked out ahead of him. He saw the exact same sunset he’d seen the night before he left Privet Drive. He remembered thinking to himself at the time that he couldn’t imagine ever seeing anything that beautiful again. Looking down and seeing a head of bushy brown hair, he realized exactly how wrong he’d been.

Now he knew he would never see anything more beautiful in his life. And he was just fine with that. Even the bed of lilies he (suddenly now at this very moment) decided to plant on the site where Voldemort finally died would never look so pretty.

“So beautiful,” Hermione said in a whisper about the sunset, even though she still had her head against his chest. Her voice, muffled by his jumper and the wind, sounded almost like Emma’s. “Where’s my camera?”

“You don’t have a camera, remember?” Harry reminded her; she replied by snuggling even closer to him. He certainly wasn’t going to complain.

A flash lit up the sky. It was another one of those summer storms that had so wonderfully scoured out the miserable heat for a short while. Another flash signaled it was time to return to the castle. A refreshing summer storm did no good to a person struck by the lightning.

“Time to go,” Harry called to the owls on either side of him. Hedwig and Metis both turned toward each other, flying in a graceful arc of a U-turn, crisscrossing each other’s paths directing in front of Harry. He then turned his broom around and followed the two owls back to the castle. As they turned to head for the Owlery, Harry separated from them and flew back to the Gryffindor common room.

When the exterior stone wall of the castle simply vanished, revealing the common room behind it, Harry finally realized he was dreaming. Touching down, he walked over to his favorite couch and sat down, Hermione still holding onto him the whole while. Hey, it was a dream; it made sense at the time. Details like how exactly he was carrying her and what happened to her broom were unimportant.

Staring at the crackling fire, Harry realized he’d never felt so safe, so complete in his entire life, in Hermione’s arms. He’d been so terrified, so lost this afternoon the moment he realized he couldn’t find her for those few seconds after the attack began.

Finding her again, he held onto her like a lifeline. He knew he might get swept out to sea if he let go. Back on Privet Drive, he’d been at the mercy of the angry, roiling ocean that was his grief over the loss of Sirius. When he finally surrendered to it, it had actually ended up being for the better; it overpowered his anger that had been preventing any chance for him to heal.

He knew though that this time, dropping his defenses and getting swept away would not have a happy ending. This time, it would not be a sea of grief that cleansed him of his anger. This time it was the tempest of the impending war that would surely overwhelm him. And anyone with him.

The only way for that to not happen was to not let go of his lifeline. He could weather the storm if he had his anchor. As the knowledge that he was dreaming again returned to the forefront of his mind, one of those annoying things that tended to happen during such moments, happened.

The more he became aware of the fact that he was dreaming, the harder it became to hold onto the dream. He was waking up. Just as the easiest way to fall asleep was to try to stay awake, the easiest way to wake up was try to stay asleep during a pleasant dream.

As Harry regained consciousness, the wonderful feeling of sitting on the Gryffindor common room couch in Hermione’s arms was replaced by a decidedly pleasant sensation of sitting on the Grangers’ living room loveseat... in Hermione’s arms.

BLOODY HELL! Harry’s mind screamed out, borrowing from Ron’s lexicon. Hermione was in fact snuggled against him with her arms around him, just like in his dream. He turned his head as slowly as possible, trying not to wake her. The way her body was positioned, it looked as though she’d simply fallen over in her sleep and onto him. She’d then, evidently, grabbed hold of him as if he were a pillow.

He braved a glance over to Ron and Ginny; if anyone saw him like this, he was sure he’d die of embarrassment. What Harry saw, it took everything he had to not start laughing. Ron, it seemed, had also fallen over in his sleep. He was lying on his side on the sofa, curled in a ball, with his head resting on his sister’s lap. Ginny, whose body had shifted due to Ron’s extra weight, was now leaning towards and slumped over him.

It was just too funny. He began to shake slightly in silent laughter. As he did, he felt Hermione’s arms wrap tighter around him. He forced himself to stop laughing. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her up.

How mortifying would it be for her to wake up and find herself like that? If he woke her up, they’d both be embarrassed; it would just be a nightmare. Harry thought about it for a minute. About the only thing he could think of was to act as if he was still asleep until she woke up. That way, she could let go of him and then she could pretend like it never happened, and there would be no awkward moments.

Yeah, that should work, he decided.

Harry glanced over at the clock; it was early morning, about ten minutes before seven o’clock. He knew Dan and Emma would be up soon. He didn’t know exactly when they woke up, but they were always early risers, even on the weekends. If Hermione wasn’t awake by 6:57, he’d try to jostle her slightly as encouragement.

Harry simply sat there silently for several minutes, listening to the world around him. It was a fresh new day; the world, for a few moments, was in complete peace. The television off, he could hear everything: birds chirping out in the back yard, the occasional car driving by on the nearby Buckhold Road, Ron and Ginny’s snoring, and most of all, Hermione’s breathing. It was all beautiful.

At 6:55, Harry heard something else: muffled voices from upstairs.

Oh, SHIT! They’re awake! Harry panicked. The only thing worse than getting caught like this by Hermione would be getting caught like this by her parents. He’d have to wake her up; they could deal with embarrassment later. He looked down, only to find her looking back up at him, fully awake. The same exact terror he felt was clearly mirrored on her face.

“They’re awake!” they both whispered to each other anxiously. The two of them jumped up out of the loveseat and raced into the kitchen.

“Quick! Get some stuff out so it looks like we got up early to make breakfast!” Hermione whispered behind him in a rush. “I can’t believe we fell asleep again.”

After grabbing a box of cereal (it was the first thing he thought of), Harry turned around to look at her and apologize. Instead however...

“Hermione!” Harry warned. “You’ve... erm... you... while you were asleep...” he floundered, pointing at her mouth. She’d fallen asleep with her mouth open, and as such had minor containment problems (she’d been drooling). There were obvious signs. It certainly wasn’t a sight he’d ever expected to see, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

She reached up and touched her face. Finding the offending leakage, she quickly wiped it away. As she did, her eyes widened in fear.

“Oh no! Harry!” she whispered, pointing back at him. Harry looked down to find a large wet spot on his shirt. She’d drooled in her sleep all right, on him!

“Here, put this on quick!” Hermione said. She grabbed Emma’s apron off the hook and threw it at him; he quickly put it on. Much to their relief, the wet spot was completely covered. “All we can do is hide it for now. If we try to Scourgify it, it’ll leave an even bigger wet spot. Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry!”

Before Harry had a chance to tell her not to worry, they heard the bedroom door open upstairs. Harry and Hermione both looked at each other. She held a finger to her lips; her meaning was clear: Not a word to Mum and Dad!

As Emma walked into the kitchen in her dressing robe, both Harry and Hermione turned to look at her. Both felt they still looked extremely guilty, but as long as neither of them slipped up, it would all be okay.

“Good morning, Mum,” Hermione said cheerfully. “We just got up early to start breakfast for you.”

“How nice of you, dear,” Emma said sweetly with a large smile.

“Well, I’m going to go get the newspaper,” Hermione replied, clearly wanting to get out of there; Harry could hear the nervousness in her voice. “Why don’t you sit down and have some orange juice, Mum?” she suggested then practically ran out of the room.

“Good morning, Harry. Sleep well?” Emma asked as she went over to the refrigerator to get the orange juice (since it was still in there, and not on the table where Hermione had pointed).

“Erm, yeah,” Harry said anxiously as Emma filled a glass then set the juice carton down on the table, smiling all the while. Why was it when you did something, it always felt like everyone already knew? Hermione returned a few moments later slightly confused.

“Did we not get a paper this morning?” she asked.

“We did,” Emma answered with a mysterious smile. “I came down and got it about twenty minutes ago.” Harry could feel his stomach sink. He looked at Hermione. The look on her face confirmed what he suspected. “I think I’d like waffles this morning,” Emma said as she headed back towards the staircase with her orange juice.

“Oh, and Harry,” she added, not looking at him as she started to climb the stairs, “don’t forget to change your shirt. You don’t want to walk around all day with slobber all over it, now do you?”

---

Yay! We’re now finally on August 2, which means we can now start to fly over the month so we can get them back to school so they can FINALLY get together. But, just because we’re flying through the month, it doesn’t mean nothing will happen. There’s still that trip to the cinema that Dan and Emma are planning... among other things...

And finally, last but certainly not least, here is another wonderful manip done by Evernight, from this chapter. I was truly caught off guard when I first saw this. It really is a touching picture. As of the instant I posted this, the Portkey Gallery was being flaky, so if when you click this link you can’t see the picture, just try back again later. Please leave him a review if you like it. Thanks!

http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=943