Chapter 11: Nexus
A/N: Two chapters without Hermione/Harry banter? Need to fix that right away. And so my hopes for a four-chapter second day are dashed. Oh well…gotta have that pumpkin pie.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, and I'm reconsidering my position that Ginny is not a major character in canon so long as JKR has her in the running for getting knocked off in Book 7.
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Harry was lying on his new bed, flipping through the channels on his new plasma screen television when the cell phone rang.
"Hey, what's up Hermione?"
"Oooh, I'm impressed, Harry. You've figured out caller id."
"Erm, no," Harry replied. "Just figured that you'd be the only one calling me.…so what'cha doing?"
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
"Nothing much…watching some muggle telly."
"Merlin, Harry, listen to us; we sound like a couple of teenagers."
"Maybe that's because we are teenagers, Hermione."
"I know, but you know...it's just that you don't sound like the weight of the wizarding world is on your shoulders right now."
"That's only because I got all this extra support from my new mattress," Harry replied. "But yeah, I know…feeling comes and goes, but…it's nice.…erm, so how are your folks doing?"
"Amazingly well," Hermione said. "I mean, here they are, in hiding, sort-of, with Death Eaters staking out their house, and they're acting like it's a walk in the park."
"So what's so bad about that?" Harry asked. "It's not like they're the Dursleys, with their heads up a blast-ended screwt."
"Umm…I guess." Hermione replied. "It's just too weird and scary, though, having my parents suddenly involved in the fight with Voldemort, and seeing them take it all in stride. You should have seen them at the hotel, Harry…they were trying to calm me down. Not that I'm upset they aren't cowering in fear, but…"
"But you don't know whether it's the parents that should be taking care of their little girl or the other way around."
"Yeah, that…that actually makes sense….it's like there's this nexus between our world and theirs."
"Erm, yeah…nexus." Harry said. "That was the exact word I was going to use."
"Oh stop it, you prat." Hermione said tongue-in-cheek admonishment. "So…I was wondering…would you like to join us for dinner tonight?"
"Hmmm, sounds tempting…let me check my engagement calendar…Saturday…Saturday…Saturday…looks good…not scheduled to rescue the damsel in distress until Tuesday."
"Damsel in distress?" Hermione asked. "So who is the damsel, Harry?"
"Erm, usual story. Really pretty, lives in a tower, needs a brave knight to come rescue her from eternal boredom…"
"Don't suppose I'm that damsel?"
"Oh…no," Harry said. "You're a Dame, not a damsel."
"Oh," said Hermione, "so what's the difference?"
"The difference is," Harry stammered. "Erm….
"Yes, Harry?"
"Difference is…damsels are pretty but helpless…they have to be rescued because they can't save themselves."
"And a Dame?"
"Dames? Well, I've only met one, mind you, but if she's representative, then Dames are pretty and anything but helpless…more likely to save the knight's sorry arse than him save her cute one."
"So, Dames are pretty useful around the house, huh?"
"More like pretty protective of the house - got the video to prove it."
"Oh, that's right," Hermione said, "Tonks was talking about your little toy…"
"My little toy?" Harry asked, thinking back to what Tonks had seen that morning. "You do
mean my omnioculars… right?"
"Maybe….so do you think my bum is cute, Harry?"
"What?"
"You said knights have sorry arses and Dames have cute ones."
"Oh….Merlin, I'm going to get hexed either way I answer."
"Why would I hex you if you did think my bum was cute?"
"Erm…because that would mean I'd been looking at it close enough to tell."
"I see….so have you, Harry?"
"Have I what, Hermione?"
"Looked closely enough to tell."
"Erm……right…so…what time is dinner?"
"Seven, and check your closet. I picked out something for you to wear before I left."
"Seven it is, then," Harry said.
"Oh, and Harry?"
"Yes, Hermione?"
"I won't hex you if you notice."
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An hour later, Harry left his Aunt and Uncle's house to meet up with the Grangers. It was a quick trip; Harry waved to Mrs. Number Seven as he crossed Privet Drive. She looked just as shocked as his Aunt Petunia did when he came out of his room. To be fair, though, it wasn't every day you saw a teenager coming out of Number Four dressed in Armani.
Although it had been great sport to shock the Dursleys into thinking that their house was going to get even more crowded, there was never any intention for Hermione's parents to stay at Number Four. Once they'd shed their disguises and showed their disgust at the physical signs of Harry's previous care, the Grangers family had crossed the street.
Dinner was served in the backyard, on the patio. Standard security procedures frowned upon those facing death threats dining al fresco, but given the unprecedented combination of magical wards and muggle electronic surveillance devices, the only thing threatening them that evening were a few fluffy storm clouds.
The patio table was dressed in white linen. So was Harry (although his unlined linen suit was actually more of a taupe that complemented his white silk t-shirt rather nicely).
"So tell me," Harry asked, in between bites of seared tuna, "how you managed to select an entire summer wardrobe for me without leaving that hotel room."
"Well, it was pretty straightforward," replied Hermione, who was no less nicely dressed. "Once it became clear that we weren't going to be taking you to the nearest shopping centre tonight, Brian suggested that we pick up a few things while we were still in the City."
"You went out to clothing stores with Death Eaters on the hunt?" Harry asked.
"No, dear," Emily Granger replied, "the clothier came to us."
"The concierges were wonderfully helpful," Hermione added.
"I'm sure that they would been just as helpful had they not gotten a call from Windsor telling them to bill the Royal account," Roger deadpanned.
"And they just showed up at your hotel room door with a rack of clothes?"
"Pretty much…yeah," Hermione said. "Of course, we did have to give them a rough idea of your size, so that I didn't have to do a lot of magical alterations once the fittings were done…"
" Fittings?" Harry asked, raising and eyebrow. "You know, I was about to ask how you'd done such a great job sizing me up blind."
"Oh we didn't do it blind, dear," Mrs. Granger said with a smile.
"Yes, Harry," her husband said, "I'd say that their eyes went quite wide open once Tonks provided them a dummy that was….how should I say it….fully representational."
"She didn't," Harry said.
"She most certainly did," Mr. Granger said.
"You mean Tonks morphed into me just to try on clothes?"
"Oh, yes, dear," Mrs. Granger said, "It so much easier to see what colors looked good on you."
"I can't believe that you guys did that," Harry said, with a hint of a smile and a resigned shake of his head.
"You've got a problem with Tonks pretending to be someone else?" Hermione asked. "Hey kettle, what color is the pot?"
"Yeah, yeah…least I didn't ask her to...so about being fully representational…"
"Well," Hermione replied with a smirk, "how else would we know whether the trousers would fit?"
"You know it was the strangest thing, though," Emily recalled. "You might have thought that Tonks would have to guess on the..erm…dimensions, but she didn't have to think twice about yours, Harry."
Hermione's father choked on some wilted spinach.
"So tell me, Harry," Hermione ask, " did I make your crotch tight?"
Hermione's mother chimed in right behind. "Or do you have more room than you need?"
Harry looked at Hermione and her mother, wondering how in the world he was supposed to respond to their questions.
"Erm, they're fine thanks."
The conversation went dead for a few seconds before Hermione and her parents burst out laughing.
And it was at that point, the point where Harry realized that the Grangers was comfortable enough to tease him the same way they did Hermione, that he knew for certain that he'd been accepted as part of a very loving family.
It felt good.
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Once they'd finished off one of Brian's signature desserts (Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Candied Ginger and Hot Buttered Rum Sauce), Hermione's dad pushed back a bit from the table, took a deep breath, and smiled.
"You know, a bloke could get used to this."
"I'm pretty impressed," said Harry. "If it had been the Dursleys in your shoes they'd all be looking for a change of pants about now."
"Well it's a pretty low bar you're setting if you're comparing us with the Dursleys," Mr. Granger said.
"Sure, but even against normal people…I mean, people staked out in front of your house, waiting to kill you?"
"Balanced against a fine dinner on a beautiful summer's night with our daughter and her best friend…I'm thinking that it's a great day."
"Really?" Harry asked. "Not to take anything away from Brian's seared tuna and Hermione's company, but…"
"Guess we see the glass more than half-full," Hermione's mom said. "Play the hand that's dealt you, make lemonade from lemons, Carpe diem…that sort of thing."
"Alright, who polyjuiced my parents?" Hermione asked, "and where did you hide them and their middle-of-the-road, can't-be-any-more-conventional-than-dentists attitude?"
Her parents laughed.
"Sweetheart, it's all a matter of figuring out what is most important our lives," Roger said. "When was the last time you ate two dinners in a row with us? And what were the chances that we'd be doing it any time this summer before fate dumped us all on the Dursley's door stoop?"
"It's not that we aren't worried," Mrs. Granger added. "Of course we're concerned; but why let that fear rule us?"
"The only thing I really fear," Roger said, "is that they torch our house before we get a chance to rescue your baby photos."
"Oh, Dad, don't start that again."
Roger laughed. "Frankly, as well as our protection has been, I'm a bit surprised we haven't heard back from Tonks."
"Well," Hermione replied, "she did say it'd be hard to arrest them as it stood…the only rules they're breaking right now are fashion-related."
"Might be best to leave them alone, unless you desperately need something from your house" Harry said. "So long as they're looking for you there, they won't go looking for you here."
"Ah, yes good point, Harry," Roger said. "That brings us around to a question that Emily and I have for the two of you. It's pretty clear that we can't stay at the house, at least until Voldemort's gone and probably even after that..."
"Oh, I feel so terrible, that house has always meant so much to you," Hermione said.
"It's just wood and brick, dear," her mother replied, "and not at all important when it comes to our lives and yours."
"And that goes for the dental practice, as well," her father added. "If they know where we live we have to assume that they know where we work."
Harry started to count on his fingers. "So, we've got to find you a new place to live, and a new place to work, and provide security…"
"Hold on, son," Roger said. "You're getting ahead of yourself. Emily and I have been thinking about this, and talked with Wally and Steve…and, well…"
"Hermione, dear," Emily asked, "how long do you and Harry plan on staying here in Little Whinging?"
"Why do you think that…"
"Hermione," her father interrupted, "you were going to tell us that you would be staying with Harry this summer, right?"
"Not that we hadn't expected you to," her mother added.
"Well," Hermione admitted, "I was going to tell you yesterday, but then we got diverted by the Palace, and then today, but then the whole Death Eater thing sprang up"
"I see," her father said. "So, about how long are you two staying here?"
"If you'd asked me two days ago, I'd say for as little time as possible," Harry said. "That would have been two weeks, to ensure that my mother's protections were up until I turn seventeen on July 31."
"But now…" Roger said, "Harry, you do understand that whatever it is that you two have to do to defeat Voldemort is far more important then worrying about Emily and myself, right?"
"If you fed me veritaserum," Harry replied, "I'd probably be forced to agree…but that doesn't mean that we can't do both at the same time."
"Dad, why are your plans contingent on ours?"
"Because, dear," he replied, "we don't want to hamper your fight, but if given a choice we'd rather be with you then holed up in some governmental safe house under assumed names."
"And not just with you," her mother added, "But doing everything we can to help you."
"So, you want to know if it would be okay for you two to stay here with us?" Hermione asked.
"Well, not with you per se," Roger said, "but we've been invited to stay here at Number Five for as long as we like."
"And not that your neighbors aren't, erm, lovely, Harry," Emily added, "but `as long as we like' is only going to be only so as long as you and Hermione are here."
"Sounds brilliant," Harry said immediately.
"You and Dad, staying here?" Hermione asked. "Not that I don't love you both, but what would you
do?"
"Oh," her Father said, "probably drive our teen-aged daughter and her boyfriend crazy…"
"Dad!"
Harry noted with interest that Hermione's admonishment was delivered with a slight grin. Hermione noted Harry's interest…and didn't stop smiling.
The patio door opened and Steve joined them.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got company."
Hermione reached for her wand. "Friendly or not so friendly?"
"Well, the old woman and her cats seem harmless enough, but if looks could kill then the sweaty red-haired kid lugging a trunk…"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other before reaching the same conclusion.
"Ron."
They held each other's gaze, as if neither wanted to break the spell that had enchanted the last couple of days. It was Hermione who finally broke eye contact and left the table to meet their friend.
Harry looked down at his plate; dessert was long gone. He looked around the table, at the Grangers, at the sky…trying to savor, for one more fleeting moment, the feeling of being part of one big happy Granger family before joining Ron and Hermione out front.
Nexus, indeed.
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