A/N - Hey everyone. I'm really really sorry it took me so long to update. I've been insanely busy. And the one night I had some free time I had go out with my friends before they disowned me.
I'm not sure where this chapter came from. It wasn't really what I had in mind, but I started writing and this is what came out. It's a bit more light-hearted and Hermione is really becoming quite amusing and cute. I didn't get quite as much done as I wanted, but I figure I'll wrap it up where it is instead of including an event with Ron at the end of it like I had intended. I'll save that for the next chapter. Enjoy!
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Renting a flat seemed to be a tedious process, but Harry was spared most of it.
"I know the landlady," Hermione confided on the way over. "She's a witch. Don't worry, there won't be any problems."
So Harry wandered around the tiny little office, leafing through magazines and occasionally listening in while Hermione negotiated the deal. His ears perked up when he heard the landlady ask, "What does he do for a job?"
"Oh, he's an artist. He makes tons of money," Hermione said confidently.
"An artist?" the landlady repeated doubtfully.
"Yeah. A real one. Here, look."
Hermione took something out from her robes and showed it to the landlady, who examined it, openmouthed. Harry craned his head to see what it was, but Hermione was in the way.
"Yes... yes, I can see," the landlady murmured, handing whatever it was back.
After that they started talking about retainers and maintenance and all sorts of other uninteresting things, so Harry tuned out again.
"Ok, Harry, just sign here and here," Hermione popped in front of him suddenly, waving a couple pieces of paper.
"Ok," Harry assented, accepting the pen Hermione offered.
"Aren't you going to read the agreement first?" Hermione asked as Harry bent over immediately and signed No One.
"No. If you say it's square, then it's square."
"You really should know these things," Hermione admonished, though she was beaming at him for some reason.
"If I really need to know, I'll just pop over and ask you."
"Oh, so you think you can just barge into my place any time you want?"
"Er, well, no," Harry stammered. "That's not what I meant. I mean, if you don't want to see me, that's ok."
"Oh Harry," Hermione laughed. "I'm just teasing. You're always welcome. Come on, you have your own place now. Let's go get you settled in!"
"What, don't I have to pay anything?"
"I covered it for you," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And shut your mouth. You can pay me back later."
Being in London they couldn't very well just vanish into thin air, so Harry and Hermione took a thoroughly muggle form of transportation: the taxi. Harry's new place was, to his mind, a strangely long way away from the office. Shouldn't they be closer? he thought.
"Close your eyes," Hermione, who had been humming to herself, commanded. "We're almost there."
"Why?" Harry said, suddenly defensive. "What are you going to do to me?"
Hermione started at the hostility in Harry's voice. He had abruptly gone very tense and suspicious.
"Because I want it to be a surprise," she responded carefully.
"Oh... ok." Harry closed his eyes, and then continued. "I don't like this... I don't like it at all. Anybody could be sneaking up on me. And it's dark. I don't like the dark."
There was a very tightly controlled note of panic in Harry's voice.
"And that's stupid," he babbled on. "I lived in the dark for years. But I still don't like it!"
"It's ok, Harry, you don't have to do this," Hermione said soothingly as the taxi came to a stop. "Really, it's not that important."
Harry didn't respond, but he didn't open his eyes either. He was biting his lip so hard Hermione could see blood, but he held out a hand blindly towards her. She took it tenderly and helped him out of the taxi; since Harry was effectively blind he missed the triumphant smile upon her face. What he did notice was a tingle in his arm.
"Hang on just a second, Harry, I'm going to pay the driver and get your trunk out of the back."
The world was black to Harry, but full of sounds and smells. Roaring traffic and a confused welter of voices seemed twice as loud as usual; a wonderful aroma of baking break mixed with a not so lovely scent of sewage. A gentle breeze tugged at his clothes.
"Keep the change," he heard Hermione tell the driver.
"Thank you, ma'am."
A moment later a heavy thud announced that Harry's trunk had joined them on the sidewalk.
"I can carry that."
"No, no," Hermione tutted. "I'm just going to get it out of the way... Move over here, Harry. A little bit more... there. Now you're blocking it from sight."
"What are you-" Harry began before he heard a soft pop. "Hermione, you just vanished my trunk on a street full of Muggles!"
"Nobody saw. And it was messing up my plans!"
"You'd just better hope Ministry of Magic officials don't come swooping down on us," Harry warned.
"Oh, bother them," Hermione snapped. "Since when did they ever do us any good? Anyway, come on. It's right over here."
Hermione took Harry's hand again and led him carefully forward with a steady stream of instructions ("Watch out, there's a hole here"; "Here's a stair"; "Watch your head, low doorway here"). Harry did his best to relax, but there was a definite stiffness in the way he was walking.
"Drat it!" Hermione grumbled after they had come to a stop for several moments. "Where did I put that key?" Harry heard a jingling sound that unexpectedly descended to the floor, accompanied by a pained, "Ouch, my foot!"
"Aha! Here it is." The sound of a key being turned in a lock, then a door swinging open.
"Ok, Harry," Hermione led him in, "here it is. You can open your eyes now!"
Harry did so and gazed around wide-eyed.
"I thought you said it was only a bit bigger than yours!"
"Er, well," Hermione stumbled guiltily, "I might have been, um, a little mistaken. D'you like it?"
Harry didn't answer right away; he was busy exploring. The flat was large and open, with a short hallway from the door into the living area. The living could have doubled for a ballroom and was covered by a deep beige rug. The kitchen was situated in the middle left, extending past the living area while indenting into it as well; a waist high divider ran along most of the edge jutting into the living area. Along the wall near the front hallway was a full bathroom, and on the other end of the living area was another hall.
"Hermione, how much did this cost?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen, running his hands over the counters. "And how did they fit it here? I mean, this place is huge!"
"It, um, didn't cost too much," Hermione said unconvincingly. "It was a really good deal. And the landlady expanded it. You know. Magically."
"It's... it's very nice," Harry said, moving towards the other end and poking his head into the far hall. "But what am I going to do with all this space? This is the kind of place an important person lives."
"You are important, Harry," Hermione retorted. He made as if to respond, but she cut him off. "You're important to me. And you'll be important to Ron, and everyone else, when you meet them again."
Harry disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
"Yeah, about that..." Harry said, re-appearing a moment later. "Are you going to see Ron on Friday?"
"Oh, um... well, I generally don't go out... but that doesn't mean you shouldn't."
"I thought I was too sick to go off gallivanting with Ron and his drunken friends?" Harry remarked wryly.
"Oh, well, maybe I was a bit hasty. Healer Swift says you're just fine."
"Healer Swift," Harry said flatly.
"Yeah..." Hermione was shifting from foot to foot. "Harry, did you and Healer Swift get into a row?"
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away moodily.
"No. Well, maybe. Ok, maybe I did with her. She knows who I am, Hermione!"
"Yes, I know," Hermione admitted. "She confronted me about it a couple days after I brought you in."
"And you didn't tell me?" roared Harry.
"No, I didn't," Hermione shouted right back. "Because I knew how you'd react! Besides, she promised me she wouldn't tell anyone."
"But... let's just forget about that, ok?" Hermione pleaded. "Umm... so are you going to see Ron on Friday?"
Harry didn't answer; he was still muttering under his breath and pacing restlessly.
"Harry!"
"Huh? What? Oh. No, I don't think so. They're better off without me."
"No, they're not," Hermione scowled. "Ron looked for you every day. He still does! I should know; we did it together!"
Harry stopped short and stood motionless for a second. He may have been about to say something, but he just wheeled and walked over to his trunk, where he sat down heavily. Hermione could almost physically see the dark mood descending upon him.
"Well, listen Harry," Hermione interrupted. "I'll just let you settle in for a bit. I've got to work a night shift tonight. Ok?"
Harry grunted.
"I'm going to leave my spare key here. You don't have a bed or anything, so if you want you can sleep at my place. I'll be back in the morning."
Quietly, Hermione placed the key on the kitchen counter and slipped out the door and crossed back over to her own flat.
* * *
Harry sat on his trunk and thought about leaving. What was he going to do in a place like this anyway? And he'd have to live up to Hermione's expectations if he was right next to her. He knew he could never do that, but he didn't want to let her down. She was the only good thing that had happened to him in five years, and would be much better off with him far away where he couldn't hurt her. Yes, the best thing would be to disappear once again.
Decision made, he clambered back afoot and tapped the trunk with his wand. It flew open and all his stuff, limited as it was, flew out. The worktables floated into an empty bedroom and arranged themselves against a wall, the battered loveseat thumped down in corner of the living area, and his instruments in the middle.
Walking into the bedroom he picked up a mostly finished guitar and studied it thoughtfully. He might as well finish it up and sell it so he could pay Hermione back.
One more day won't hurt anything. Just one more day. I'll leave tomorrow.
* * *
By the time Hermione was approaching her flat the sun was rising. It had been an extremely long shift and the only thing on her mind was a good, long nap. And Harry.
Quietly, she unlocked her door and tiptoed in. Her flat was silent and dark; standing still for a moment she heard nothing. A quick check in her bedroom showed a pristine bed. Why hadn't Harry taken up her offer?
A moment ago, Hermione had been exhausted, but now her mind was working too fast. She really wanted to go and check up on Harry. But she didn't want to be a nag. Two sides of her mind warred briefly before exhaustion won out. Stumbling back into her room, she managed to strip off her outer garments before crawling into bed.
* * *
"Mom!" Hermione cried desperately over the phone some time later. "Mom, I need to learn how to cook in... about one hour!"
A garbled voice came from the other end of the phone.
"Why?" Hermione said. "It doesn't matter, I just need to! Help me, please!"
Soothing garbled noises followed.
"Yeah... yeah, I've got those," Hermione replied. "What do I do? How do I use them?"
"I do what? Oh. Ok, I understand. D'you mind if I use magic to defrost it?"
"No, magic won't affect how it tastes. Ok, good. Let me get out my utensils..."
* * *
Done! Harry thought triumphantly, holding up the finished instrument. Oh, wait... Harry spotted a few details that had escaped him before. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
Patiently, he picked up a small hand planer and delicately shaved a smidgeon off the edge of the instrument. He observed the effect, then picked up the sanding paper to smooth it down. Lastly, he wiped it over with a bit of stain soaked rag. Another spot irritated him, so he picked up the planer again...
* * *
"Oh my God, thank you so much, Mom. I love you!" Hermione gushed, staring in awe at the piping hot meal in front of her.
"What? What makes you think I have a date? What do you mean, it's obvious? No, really, I don't have a date. I'm just cooking for, um, some of the girls from work. Yeah," Hermione lied.
"Ok, well I gotta go now. Thanks a ton! I miss you too. Bye!"
She hung up the phone, tenderly massaging an ear gone red from an hour spent on the phone receiving instructions. An hour well spent, though. Though her mom wasn't too happy about Hermione cheating a bit. Well, what was the use of being a witch if you didn't use magic??
"You better like it, Harry!" she said aloud, hurrying over to the bathroom to tidy up. A shiny-faced Hermione peered back from the mirror, hair in total disarray.
"Oh, dear," she exclaimed. "This won't do."
* * *
A knock sounded upon Harry's door just as the sun was beginning to sink. He didn't hear it at first, busy putting the finishing touches on the guitar. But it came again, louder and more insistent.
"Ok, ok, I'm coming, Hermione," he called. He answered the door with the instrument still in his hands to find a refreshed looking Hermione bouncing up and down impatiently.
"Look," he said, holding forth the guitar. "It's almost done. I can sell it tomorrow and pay you back."
"Oh, it's lovely, Harry! That's great. Listen, it's a bit empty in here yet. Why don't you come back with me for the moment?"
"Oh... are you sure?"
"No, I'm just asking you so that I can kick you back out! Of course I'm sure. Oh, and here's your key," Hermione handed it Harry. "I forgot to give it you yesterday."
"Ah, well, I could always Alohamora it anyway."
"Yes, well, that's not the point. Especially not in front of Muggles. But who cares? Come on!"
Harry appraised her; she was definitely acting a bit odd.
"Um, yea-" he didn't have time to finish as she yanked him out the door and, ignoring her previous statement, waved her wand at it as she dragged him away. The lock clicked tight.
The hallway outside was long and gloomy, with a door set opposite his. Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened it and plunged in, taking Harry with her.
A mouthwatering aroma hit Harry the moment he entered and he started to drool involuntarily. On the table in front of him a veritable feast was laid out. He hadn't eaten much in the last five years or so, hadn't had any appetite at all. Now, though, he had a sudden understanding of what it was like to be Ron.
"Hermione," he turned towards where she was standing nervously, "did you cook all this?"
"Yeah..." she affirmed. "I, um, thought I'd make it in celebration of your flat. Come on, it's gonna get cold."
Harry didn't have to be told twice as Hermione led him over to her small table, which was overflowing. He immediately attacked everything he could reach.
"I didn't know you could cook, Hermione," Harry said around a mouthful of food. "Hey, aren't you going to eat anything? I can't eat this all by myself."
"You look like you're doing a pretty good job," she replied, amused.
"So," Harry swallowed a tremendous mouthful, "when did you learn to cook? I had to do it all the time for the Dursleys."
Hermione went red and merely shook her head. Harry was stuffing himself as if determined to gain all the weight he'd lost in one sitting. Occasionally he would surface for air and water.
Some time later, Harry leaned back and massaged his stomach.
"This was really good, Hermione!" Her face lit up with pleasure.
"Your place is... a lot cozier than mine," Harry noted, looking around.
"Oh, don't worry," Hermione said hurriedly, "we'll get your place filled up soon."
"Yeah, I suppose... I don't really want anything. I don't need much. But, hey, I was thinking..."
Hermione cocked her head in an inquiring manner.
"I was thinking, maybe I will go out with Ron... as No One, of course. I can't tell them."
"I think that would be really great, Harry," Hermione said earnestly.
"Yeah... but I'm only going if you go too."
"What?" Hermione sat up straight.
"You heard me."
"Absolutely not!"
"Why are you so unwilling to go out with Ron?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"I'm not! It's just... well, I don't fit in," Hermione bemoaned, looking down. "It's so awkward and weird. I don't like feeling like an... an outsider. Outside the loop."
"So you won't go?"
Hermione bit her lip and shook her head.
"And you're the one telling me I should go?"
Hermione gave a weak little laugh. "It is a bit hypocritical, isn't it?"
" A little? Well, you heard the rules. If you want me to go, you have to go too."
"You fight dirty," accused Hermione.
"Yes, well," Harry said modestly, "us evil, murdering villains are like that."
"Harry!" Hermione said reproachfully, knowing that he was half joking and half deadly serious. She summoned a cushion from the couch and walloped him with it, a little harder than was strictly necessary.
"Witch!" yelled Harry, holding his arms up to protect himself.
"That's right!" screeched Hermione, continuing to pummel him. Finally, Harry tore the pillow out of Hermione's hands and start pelting her with it.
"Ok, you win! I'll go!" she surrendered. "So put that thing down! Let's go shopping; you need a bed. Don't bother lying to me; I know you didn't sleep last night."
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