Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. It has occurred to me that this story is becoming something much more than originally intended. You readers are mostly the cause for that, because of your support and constructive criticism. The ride has only just begun, and I hope all of you stay with me for its entire length; and I thank you most sincerely for being here so far.
Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess
Snow Patrol
Run
Chapter Ten: Back to the Burrow
Saturday, May 18th, 2002
It was the silence that woke Harry. More than any kind of disturbance could, the complete lack of noise pulled him from the warm embrace of sleep, and also the soft body behind him. Carefully, trying not to wake Hermione, he extracted himself from the bed and padded silently across the cool floor.
Upon reaching the French doors set into the opposite wall, he pulled back the light-colored curtains and stared out at the coming day. The hour was somewhere between dawn and true sunrise, when even the birds were contemplating the new day. Half the sky was still dark, and the other half had splashes of violet, indigo, and blue. Harry continued gazing through the glass for a few moments, and then cracked one of the doors and slipped through.
The chill of the morning hit him immediately, raising bumps along every inch of exposed skin-he was still clad only in boxers-so he wandlessly cast a heating charm over himself. Going to the railing of the balcony, he leaned against it, resting his forearms on it.
The master suite was on the second floor of the Manor, and this particular veranda faced north. If he looked to his right, to the east, he could see the weak light of day just beginning to reflect off the waters of the lake. To his left, to the west, he could see the hoops of the north end of the Quidditch pitch, the tops of which were gilded with the breaking day.
Nothing stirred; there was no breeze and no animals were chirping or twittering. It was oddly peaceful, yet mildly discomforting at the same time. Looking straight out, to the north, he could only see the long flat expanse of the huge meadow, stretching into the inky blackness at the northern horizon. Loneliness began to creep up on him, even though whom he'd recently come to regard as the most important person in the world was only twenty feet away, and he shivered involuntarily.
As he considered returning to the comfort of his bed, and Hermione's arms, because of the otherworldly silence all around him, that same silence was broken by the click of the door handle behind him. He heard it open and close and then the soft whisper of bare feet on the hard surface of the veranda. A rush of extra warmth hit him as Hermione cast a heating charm over herself.
She leaned over the railing next to him, brushing against his bare arms with her own, and in his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of perky nipples through her sports bra before the heating charm really took effect. It was the kind of misplaced observation early in the morning that would bring a smile to anyone's face.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked him, sleep heavy in her voice.
"You," he replied, and then cleared his throat. It was slightly raspy. He turned his head a little and saw a small smile lift the corners of her lips.
"What woke you up so early?" she asked. "After yesterday I thought you'd sleep in."
"Dunno really," he said. "We did get to sleep early."
"Yeah," Hermione breathed, and then the silence returned. He stole another glance at her after it continued on for at least a minute, and found that she was just staring out across the slowly lightening plain. Lighter colors began to appear in the east, pushing the blackness out of the west.
"It really is beautiful here, Harry," she said, stilling looking fixedly out over the property. Harry didn't respond; instead, his eyes tracked over her face, from her relaxed forehead (for once), high cheekbones, pert nose, and to her precious lips. She looked at him then, and his eyes flicked to hers.
"It is," Harry agreed, though his mind was only half on the conversation. The other half was thinking about how nice it would be to pull Hermione back into the bedroom and ravish her. He blinked and turned back toward the scene before them.
"Did I wake you up?" he asked.
"Indirectly," she answered, and he detected a hint of humor in her inflection. He turned bodily toward her, quirking an eyebrow. She faced him, resting her side against the railing.
"Oh?"
"Your leaving didn't wake me…but your absence did," she said, and he saw her smile openly at the wordplay. He knew what she meant, but…
"Right…a Hermione Granger riddle…"
"Too early in the morning for you, Potter?" she queried, smirking at him.
"Not at all, Granger," he shot back. "It's you that woke up just because your cuddle object left the bed."
Both eyebrows rose. "Cuddle object? That the best you could come up with?"
"Look, Hermione-"
"I much prefer snuggly-bear," Hermione overrode, effectively shutting him up. He only lasted two or three seconds, though, and then burst out laughing. Hermione soon joined him, and they turned back to face out from the balcony.
"Seriously, though, I knew you were gone even before I was fully awake. Is it bad that I can't sleep unless you're there?" she continued.
"I don't think so," Harry nearly whispered, and moved closer to Hermione. Their arms touched and they stood like that for a while longer, just resting easy in each other's company. As the eastern sky moved toward light yellow, Harry cleared his throat once again.
"Dobby?" he called out. Not even five seconds passed before the elf popped in behind them. He and Hermione turned around and leaned their backs against the railing.
"Harry be calling Dobby?"
"Yes; have you, Winky, and Libby had breakfast yet today?" he inquired of the elf.
"We is making it now," he told Harry.
"Could you please make a little more for Hermione and I, and then join us for breakfast out here?"
Dobby's eyes went wide with shock and admiration-Harry could see the emotions written plainly across his features-and nodded. He disappeared without another word.
"D'ya think he'll ever get used to eating at the same table as us?" Harry asked. He was surprised to hear Hermione gasp, and turned his head toward her. She was looking at him with a guarded expression.
"What?" he asked.
"You just said…oh, nevermind," she replied, waving it off with her hand. He had no idea what she was on about, but her face relaxed and he soon forgot about it. He conjured a table and five comfortable chairs. The light in the east was now bright enough to cast shadows along the balcony.
"You realize we're not wearing much?" she asked, that dry humor in her voice again. He shrugged and they both sat down, next to each other of course.
"The wonders of heating charms," he replied, nudging her shoulder with his own. Before another word could be said, Dobby, Winky, and Libby appeared by his side, followed soon after by their breakfast on the table.
"I want to sit next to Harry!" Libby exclaimed, drawing a laugh from Harry and Hermione, a bemused expression from Winky, and a curious one from Dobby. Harry pulled out the chair, conjured a few more cushions for the tiny elf to sit on, and helped her into the chair. All the while she was staring at Harry. He could tell she was bursting to say something.
"Like my new socks?" she squeaked, as soon as Dobby and Winky had settled into their own chairs. He followed her barely-there finger, which she had pointed toward deep purple socks adorning her little feet.
"They're vibrant," Harry told her, amused at the elf's antics. He could hear Hermione fighting more laughter at his other side. Even Winky made a noise that sounded like laughter. Dobby was smiling, or at least to Harry that's what it looked he was doing.
"Let's eat," Harry said, and the five of them loaded their plates. Of course, `loaded' was a relative term when speaking of house elves, especially about one only slightly larger than Harry's head.
Hermione leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I think you have a new fan, Harry." Goosebumps rippled along his skin, heedless of the heating charm, at her breath on his ear and neck. He looked at her.
"Shut it, you," he grinned. She just shook her head, and continued eating her meal. When they were all nearing their fill, signaled by the slowing of the clatter of silverware on the plates, light began to bloom in earnest in the east. Sunrise was coming.
"What are your plans for the day?" Harry asked, looking at the three elves. Winky and Dobby looked at each other, and then Winky gave a kind of shrug.
"There is not much cleaning or other work to do around here, yet…so we will probably work on Dobby's grammar until or unless something comes up," Winky replied. Harry had to smile at her practiced articulation. He wondered if it would be weird to hear Dobby speak like Winky, after having heard him the other way for so long. He shrugged it off, knowing it didn't matter. Dobby seemed eager to learn; by the way he had been nodding when Winky spoke, so Harry thought nothing more of it.
"Sounds good," Harry affirmed, and Dobby and Winky disappeared, along with the dishes and the leftover food. Harry and Hermione looked at Libby, who had remained behind.
"You are a great wizard and Miss Hermione is a great witch," she said matter-of-factly, and then disappeared as well.
"We keep hearing that," Harry teased, looking at Hermione with a large smile on his face. The little elf just tickled something inside of him, which he did not know how to name. It was almost…paternal.
"I wonder if they'll ever stop calling me `Miss Hermione'?" she asked, chuckling a little. Harry sensed the same kind of feeling from Hermione toward Libby, though maternal, obviously.
"I'll probably have to tell them to call you just Hermione, if you want me to."
She waved it off. "Don't worry about it, it's not important. When you get the chance although, I wouldn't mind if you did."
"Sure," he said, leaning over and wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders. She sighed and leaned into him. They were still sitting in the conjured chairs. Harry banished the table and the three empty chairs.
Light flared on the eastern horizon just then, drawing Harry and Hermione's attention toward it, and they watched in silence as the first bit of sun came into view. The effect was bewitching-what had previously only been a warm morning light was now bright, vibrant sunlight. Harry canceled the heating charm on himself as the rays hit his skin. The shadows around the property were almost impossibly long, Harry noticed, because the sun had literally just come into view.
"I don't know if I've ever actually seen that," Hermione commented, in a quiet voice. He felt her skin cool slightly under his touch as she canceled her heating charm.
"What?"
"Sunrise," she returned, looking again at the newly risen sphere, before averting her eyes slightly. "The actual moment it comes over the horizon."
"Oh," Harry said. "Dunno if I have either." And it was the thought of having never seen a true sunrise that made him think of the countless things he had never experienced. Nothing specific came to mind-only vague images of himself as a young child happily interacting with his parents-but the effect was sobering, nonetheless. He wondered how different things would have been if the Second War had never happened; if he had been exposed to the magical world from birth; if living at Potter Manor all of his life would have influenced his friendship with Hermione or Ron; if he would have left Britain for four years after Hogwarts…
He wondered if he and the five others who used to be his closest friends would have had the same relationship if the Horcrux hunt had never happened. And suddenly, he wondered how much different his life would be if he had not gone looking for Hermione on Halloween their first year at Hogwarts. If she had been taken from him then, stolen away in only his eleventh year of life, where would he be?
Where would Harry Potter be without Hermione Granger?
He tightened the arm that was around Hermione and pressed a gentle kiss into the bare skin of her shoulder. He literally saw the goose bumps flash out along her body. She turned her head toward him. Sunlight glinted off her hair.
"What was that for?" she asked.
Harry knew exactly what it was for. He had wanted to talk with Hermione all through the entire previous day about whatever `it' was between them, but sitting here on a second-floor balcony at his new house, as the sun warmed their faces, he knew what `it' was. The proverbial light bulb had flickered on in his head…and his heart.
He took a deep breath and faced her, taking her hands in his. He stared down at their interlocking fingers for a moment, trying to figure out how to say exactly what he was feeling. Then, for the first time since he'd come outside, a light breeze began to caress his skin.
"It's for being you, Hermione. For coming out to Stanford and reminding me of the people I left behind. And for showing me the something I've been missing since I left," he spoke, looking directly into her vivid brown eyes. He watched as her brow creased and as her teeth took her bottom lip; quickly, there was a pool of moisture in her eyes.
"Harry?" she asked, barely a whisper. He began to rub a thumb over the back of one of her hands. He had to get this next part right. He couldn't let Hermione down, or himself.
"I wish I had been able to see it before, what you really mean to me, Hermione. I don't even know if there are words to express it. But I do know that I couldn't imagine my life without you anymore. These past two weeks, I've come to depend on you. And during that time, I've also understood how much I depended on you at Hogwarts and through the war."
A tear cascaded down Hermione's smooth cheek, and he reached a hand up to brush the wetness away. It was a futile gesture, though, because her lip was trembling, and more tears were imminent. Harry had one more thing to say.
"Do you remember that night at the Burrow, before I went away to uni?" he asked her. She nodded slightly, sending more droplets down her face. "And how you apologized for `not doing enough'?" He received another nod. "You did more than enough, Hermione," Harry told her. "You were always there for me, when it really mattered. I wish I could say the same for myself, but I'm afraid all I can say is that I hope to be in the future."
Without warning, Hermione threw herself onto Harry, sending him back against the chair. For one suspended moment in time, Harry really thought the chair was going to topple over backwards, but then it righted itself and he was holding a crying Hermione in his lap. She didn't look up at him, but he could hear everything she said, muffled though the words were:
"I don't know what's going to happen," she said, "but one thing you can be certain of is that I'm going to be with you, no matter what." Her words rushed out. "I realized a long time ago that I loved you, Harry, and I've been struggling with that ever since. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that you need me, as well." She looked up into his eyes finally, streaked cheeks glistening in the barely risen sun.
"Whatever it takes, Harry, this will work." She gazed into his eyes, and he could only reciprocate. For fear of saying anything that would ruin the moment, he kept his mouth shut, and just lost himself in her chocolate pools. "Whatever it takes," she whispered, fervently, and their lips crashed together.
After a few moments of intense face melting, or at least that's what it seemed like to Harry, because of the heat coming off Hermione's lovely features, Hermione grunted in what sounded like impatience. Harry then felt a draft…over all of him. He broke the kiss and looked at Hermione, sure there was shock written on his face. She had banished their sparse clothing, and now he was naked on the balcony, holding a similarly buxom witch in his arms. He was already hard.
"Only in the way," she said, hurriedly, with lust and love dripping from her voice. "What are you waiting for?" she asked him, smirking at his still-shocked face. "Take me to the bedroom and show me what a great wizard you really are."
"You sure?" he asked, noticing that his voice was slightly higher than normal. Hermione then growled at him; he felt the vibrations all through his body, especially in the part of him that was sticking up like some obscene mast.
"Yes," she hissed, reaching under herself and squeezing him. He shut his eyes, welcoming the pressure, and then opened them again when she released him. "Take-me-to-the-bedroom," she said, through gritted teeth. There was a deep crimson color high on her cheeks and her chest was heaving. She was absolutely fucking gorgeous.
Harry needed no further prompting.
In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet, curling Hermione's warm body in his arms, getting distracted as her chest bounced slightly, but then refocusing, banishing the chairs, and heading for the French doors. He almost forgot to open them as Hermione reached down with two fingers and began to massage her core, but he recovered in time and got them safely through the doors.
They closed behind them and he headed straight for the bed, listening to Hermione's mewls as some strange lust animal took her over. Harry couldn't believe the change that had overtaken her in a matter of seconds, but he wasn't complaining. In fact, the same animal that was raging within Hermione was quickly growing in him.
He began to set her down on the bed, but she wriggled out of his arms and toppled down onto the covers. She rolled once and ended up on her back, looking up at Harry through her hair, hand still placed firmly between her legs. Her nipples were hard and very dark. They locked eyes-Harry saw that her eyes were almost black-and she blew the hair away from her face.
"Get down here," she said.
"Ok," he agreed, grinning stupidly and settling himself down next to her. They kissed again, albeit briefly, and then Harry worked along her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone, and up the swell of her right breast. She moaned, long and low, and his lips brushed against her taut nipple, and then he took it completely in his mouth. It was hard as a rock; Harry brought his hand to the other one and caressed it, much as his tongue was rocking against the first. He switched sides after a moment, and then slowly started south with his lips.
Down over the end of her ribcage, her diaphragm, and finally onto her tummy, he dragged kisses along her goose bumped skin. He stopped at her navel for a second, to twirl it with his tongue, but Hermione impatiently pushed his head further down.
"Don't stop," she gasped, and removed her other hand so Harry could continue moving toward her most intimate and sensitive region. Never bringing his lips off her skin, he followed her center down from her navel, over her mons, and into the top of her outer lips. She shuddered involuntarily, and pressed his head down again. His lips settled over her inner lips and he pushed them apart with his tongue, seeking the glorious little nub that lay within those folds.
After a moment, he knew he'd found it, because she gave a great cry and lifted her back mostly off the bed. He dragged his tongue over the little spot, feeling the coarseness of his tastebuds as they rippled along the smooth surface of her clit. The feeling was probably so intense, however, that Hermione was soon dragging Harry's head up. She stared him in the eyes, and he saw that her eyes were most definitely black now.
"I can't wait anymore, Harry," she said, fighting to keep some sense of control. "I want you, now!" she exclaimed, and reached down to find his erection.
"Hermione-" he started, but cut off at the look Hermione gave him. It plainly said Shut up and fuck me.
"Inconceivious," she muttered, and Harry felt a flash of heat pass between their abdomens. He moved his hips lightly, bringing his tip close to her center, and she guided him the rest of the way. She positioned him at her entrance and wriggled slightly, bringing the tip inside of her. Harry had never felt something so tight or wet or exquisitely wonderful.
"Just hang on," Hermione said, through gritted teeth. He was momentarily concerned about the pained look on her face, but he remembered suddenly they were both virgins. He was fucking Hermione! What had just happened? They had just been sitting out on the balcony and-
"Ok, slow," she said, resting a hand against his belly. He moved his hips slightly, stopping when she applied pressure with her hand. That same pained look came over her face, but she apparently adjusted quickly and eased up. He inched forward again-the look reappeared, but no pressure on his belly this time.
"Why does it have to hurt you?" he whispered, looking at her with concern. He felt horrible feeling nothing but absolute pleasure while she was in pain. She gave him a winning smile, though, and shook her head lightly.
"It only should at first," she said, panting again. "Then it will just feel good," she added. He was mostly inside of her now, and she leaned back so that she was lying fully on the bed. He felt her wrap her smooth, sensuous legs around his back, just above his bum, interlocking her ankles. He moved in another inch or so and their pubic bones were resting against each other.
The pressure Harry felt on his cock was unlike anything he had have ever experienced before. It was so complete, wrapping him perfectly in the grasping, sucking wetness, and he shuddered involuntarily as her muscles clenched around him.
"Just go slow," she reiterated, and Harry distinctly heard a tone of pleasure in her voice. He could tell the pain wasn't completely gone-perhaps it never would be, he didn't know these things-but she was enjoying herself at least.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he retracted his hips, bringing inch after inch out of her depths. She gasped as his tip pressed out on her entrance, and he wasn't sure if it was in pleasure or pain, so he paused, watching her face-she had closed her eyes-and then gradually pushed back in.
Harry could already feel his climax building, because this was such a new and exciting and breathtaking experience, but he clenched his muscles, pausing the buildup. He wanted this to last forever, or at least until Hermione was fully enjoying herself. She had brought her hands to breasts, at some point, and was tweaking her nipples between her fingers.
"Hermione," Harry said, withdrawing again.
"What?"
"You're amazing," he answered, pushing into the hilt. He felt a little less resistance, though it did not feel any less incredible. Perhaps she was loosening up a bit.
"You're big," she growled, and then started chuckling because he had paused. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, with an innocent sort of gleam in them.
"Just telling it like it is," she said, and then moaned as he moved in and out a little faster. "Yessss, Harry," she hissed. "Just like that-a little faster now." She went back to massaging her breasts.
A rhythm soon developed, and Harry knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. He was inside Hermione, whom he had just told he wanted to be with forever. He was inside the girl he had known since he was eleven; the girl that had saved his life countless times; and the girl that set his heart afire with an emotion that could only be described as love.
He pushed in a little deeper than he had been, as the word love reverberated around his brain. She gasped and nodded desperately, crying out for him to keep doing that. Merlin, she was so sexy, gasping and moaning and squirming beneath him, but love? Was that what it was?
"Fuck me, Harry!" she screamed, and he suppressed his mild shock at her language with a grunt and a grin.
"I'm trying!" he called back, and started pistoning in and out of her very quickly. He suddenly realized that of course it was love, and it had been for so long he couldn't trace the very beginning. Hermione Granger was the most integral part of his life, past, present, and future, and he wanted to be her focal point, too.
Bur right now, both their focal points were building toward some mutual crescendo. Hermione's inner walls had swollen slightly, and she had gone very slick. Harry felt the pressure building at the base of his erection, and knew it was coming.
"Harry, I'm almost there!" she cried, wrapping her legs more tightly around his back. He had time for three or four more thrusts; he lost count, and then called out:
"I'm there," and spilled over the edge, wave after wave of sheer pleasure rolling along his nervous system. He suddenly felt another clenching, around his currently clenching member, and Hermione's whimpers indicated that she too had found her pinnacle. He continued stroking in and out for a few more seconds, but the sensations became so intense after he'd finished that he had to pull out. Hermione sighed longingly as he slipped from her.
He stayed above her, because she hadn't removed her legs from around him, and by the look she was giving him, she wasn't planning on it. He looked into her eyes for a moment, where her pupils had become indistinguishable from her irises, and then raised an eyebrow at her.
"We just had sex, Harry," she said, in such a matter of fact voice that he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up within him.
"We did, didn't we?" he asked, rhetorically, as he settled lightly on top of her. They snuggled for a few moments, and then he raised his head to look at her. Her cheeks were still very flushed. She grinned at him, flashing white teeth.
"What a way to start the day," she said. Harry couldn't agree more. Hermione looked around briefly. "Wonder where our knickers got off to?"
----------
Hermione left for her house sometime later, when they eventually found their clothes and pulled themselves out of bed. She said she needed to shower and eat and take care of some things.
Harry went back out to the balcony, leaning over the railing once again. Their little roll through the sheets and subsequent snuggling had advanced the day to late morning, and the sun was actually quite warm on his skin. In the clear light, he saw just how large the plain to the north was, and he stared at the vast expanse as his mind went over what had happened.
He had finally been able to tell Hermione exactly what he'd been feeling since she'd shown up in Stanford (except it was much longer than that, he knew now), and she had gone all crazy-lusty on him and they'd…fucked.
He smiled as the memory of how it felt washed over him, of how Hermione felt. He couldn't think of any better way to have spent the morning, except possibly some other fun activity with her. And what had she said? Whatever it takes, he remembered. With her words echoing in his head, providing him some comfort as to his impending meeting with the Yankees and all it meant, he left the balcony for the shower.
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Showered, fed, and watered, Harry strolled through the Manor in tan sandals and a pair of khaki shorts. He had decided against a shirt because of the temperature outside, and was glad for it as he descended the staircase, with the sun coming through the high windows. The day seemed to be shaping up for almost unusual warmth, but Harry wasn't complaining. He had gotten used to the milder temperatures in Stanford.
Exiting the front door, he turned left, and headed east toward the lake. There was a faintly worn path through the grass he followed intermittently, but it had so little use over the past two decades it faded out at points. The yard sloped gently down toward the lake; Harry looked behind at the receding Manor. He could see the east side of the house now, with all its balconies. The one on third floor, which he and Hermione had been standing upon the previous day, was by far the largest.
The smell of clean water soon hit his nostrils, and he realized that the lake was in fact much larger than he'd originally thought. As he neared the sandy shore, he roughly estimated it at ten kilometers wide and twenty kilometers long. The water was so smooth and clear that it almost perfectly reflected the clear blue sky and sun. The image was slightly disorienting-two skies-but it was all part of the natural ambience. The sheer physical beauty of Potter Manor and its surrounding property continued to amaze him.
Finally reaching the sand, he bent down and removed his sandals, digging his toes into the lukewarm beach. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was standing at the edge of the Pacific, which he had visited a few times at uni, except for the absence of the sound of waves. And the smell of the salt water.
He smiled, realizing that this beach had very little in common with one on the ocean, but was enjoying it all the same. He also realized that this far away from everything, he and Hermione wouldn't need privacy hedges to get that complete tan…
He started across the sand, toward the small dock protruding into the waters of the lake. It was maybe thirty meters long, perpendicular to the shore; he stepped onto its slatted surface and headed for the speedboat tethered at the end. As he came upon it, he saw that it, also, was larger than he'd originally guessed and that it had to have been very expensive.
Sleek and shiny, built for as little wind resistance as possible, it had two large outboard motors. There were eight comfortable seats-leather recliners with cup holders-each looking like the kind of thing you'd find in a posh living room. The boat was tied very simply to a post at the very end of the dock, Harry saw, and he vaulted over the side into it. Moving between the seats, he came upon the front two. The passenger seat was like the six behind him (they were in rows of two), and so was the driver seat, except for the steering wheel and small control panel in front of it.
He looked closer at the gauges and instruments, and it didn't seem very complicated at all. There was the aforementioned steering wheel, something that was clearly a throttle, a speedometer that topped out at two hundred kilometers an hour, two engine thermometers, an ignition switch, and a fuel gauge.
Harry did a double take when he saw the last, though, because instead of saying `Fuel' the word `Magic' was printed there. The needle rested firmly over E, and he tapped the small glass cover to see if it was stuck. Something strange happened then-the needle jumped slightly and Harry felt some kind of pull on his magic. He tapped it again, this time a little harder, and the same thing happened.
He pondered it for a moment, and then the realization came that the boat was fueled by magic, not petrol. Gently, he pressed his finger against the glass cover of the magic gauge, and the pull on his magic became steady. He could almost feel the energy traveling down his arm and out of his finger. The needle rose steadily, passing the halfway mark after about half a minute and coming to rest just above the bold F another half a minute later.
Harry withdrew his finger, expecting to feel tired or something to that effect, but he only felt slightly out of breath. He stood there, next to the driver's seat of his new speedboat for several seconds, letting his heart rate settle; a light breeze ruffled his hair, which was getting shaggy, and he then sat down. Looking over the control panel again, he noticed another instrument that he'd missed earlier-a small black button labeled `Water Brake'. He raised his eyebrows, smiling at his oversight. It would probably be helpful knowing where that was located.
He toggled the ignition switch and listened with some satisfaction as the powerful motors roared to life. They were guttural and vibrating a lot, and Harry could almost taste the raw power they exuded. He stood, reaching over the edge of the boat, and untied it from the dock. Immediately, it began to slowly drift away from the long wooden platform.
Harry sat back into the driver's seat, curling his fingers around the throttle. He paused then, just for a fraction of a second, and then pressed it lightly upward. The engines revved in response, and the boat moved away from the dock. He only had the throttle one-eighth of the way up, and he watched as the speedo crawled up to around 30 kilometers per hour. He looked behind, saw that he was sufficiently far enough away from the moor, and pushed more insistently on the throttle lever.
Harry grinned and laughed out loud as new acceleration pressed him back into his seat, and he left the lever at about five-eighths. The engines were roaring, and soon the wind was competing with the sound. The needle in the speedometer climbed gradually past eighty…one hundred…and slowed at around one hundred twenty kilometers per hour.
Reaching down to adjust the seat, Harry moved it back, and stood to better control the boat. The long, sloped windshield was just high enough to cut the wind around him, and he couldn't help the smile that was plastered to his face as the waters of the lake rushed by. It was exhilarating, speeding along the surface of the pristine body of water, with nothing but the wind and the spray to greet him. He moved the wheel slightly, and had to adjust his footing as the boat banked into the turn.
Harry turned the wheel back and forth a few times, tacking gradually across the lake. He saw that he was quickly approaching the north end of the lake, and dropped the throttle to three-eighths. Turning the wheel a little harder, he came around, heading south now. The lake stretched before him for almost twenty kilometers, and he suddenly threw caution to the wind: Harry mashed the throttle all the way up.
The engines roared, very loud, and the boat suddenly lurched forward. Harry held onto the wheel tightly, not fancying flying out into the lake. The speedo needle rushed back past one hundred twenty kilometers per hour and rose rapidly past one hundred fifty, slowing only when it reached one hundred ninety.
The wind and engines were near deafening now, but Harry flicked a finger and cast a muting charm. The noise fell away to a dull roar, and he could fully enjoy the top speed of the boat. The boat sliced through the water like an arrow, at just over two hundred kilometers an hour. After a little under three minutes, he was coming even with the dock again, and he chanced a look over there.
Hermione was at the end of the dock, waving to him.
He pushed the throttle back down to one-eighth, and the boat rapidly lost speed. Banking in a wide arc toward the dock so he'd come in next to it, and not at it, he pushed the engines back almost all the way; the speedo fell to about 10 kilometers an hour, and he nearly coasted the last fifty meters. As he drew very close to the moor, he pressed the water break, hearing something deploy on the sides of the boat, under the surface of the water, and the boat came to a stop.
Hermione mouthed something at him, but he couldn't hear it. Waving his hand to cancel the muting charm, he asked, "What?"
"A little short," she repeated, and it was true. The boat had stopped about five meters from his intended destination.
He grinned broadly at her. "Why don't you just Apparate?"
"You think I'm getting in that boat with you?" she asked, putting a hand to her hip and sticking out her chest slightly. Harry licked his lips, lasciviously eyeing her wonderful cleavage-she was wearing sandals, short shorts, and a bikini top. He looked around, suddenly wondering where his sandals had gotten off to, and spotted them on the seat behind his. He swiveled his head back toward his favorite girl.
"I'll let you drive…" he said, sticking his tongue out at her. The next second, she was standing next to him, wrapping her arms around his bare chest.
"Mmm…" she cooed. "What if I just Apparated us both back up into your bedroom?"
"I wouldn't be responsible for my actions," he murmured, dropping his lips to her neck. She sighed and craned her neck, allowing him better access. He continued for another few seconds, before pulling his head back. "But," he added, "you wouldn't be able to drive our new boat."
"Our?" she questioned.
"Did you already forget I gave you access to everything in the Manor yesterday?"
"Oh," she said, reminded of what he'd done for her. "Thanks," she grinned. He moved out of her way, sitting in the passenger seat, and she stood where he had been. He watched her peruse the controls for a minute.
"Why's this say `Magic' and not `Petrol'?"
"Press your finger against it and find out," he replied, watching as she did so. Her eyebrow quirked and she withdrew her finger. "Well, that's interesting. Do you suppose all the Muggle gadgets in your house work the same way?"
"Dunno," he answered, staring at Hermione. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail, exposing all of her face. She was beautiful. He knew he had already thought that many times today, and probably would many more times. He looked away from her out over the lake; the waters had settled and once again the blue sky was perfectly reflected.
"Could be, haven't actually looked at them yet," he added, looking back at her. As the engine was still idling, she didn't have to press the ignition, and simply pushed on the throttle to get the boat moving. Unlike Harry had, however, she didn't start conservatively, and he watched somewhat amused as she moved the throttle all the way forward. The front of the boat lifted out of the water slightly-Hermione squealed, in either delight of fear, Harry couldn't tell-and they rocketed forward. She was gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he had. When the noise grew to a crescendo, he cast another muting charm. She looked over at him, grinning, and he knew it had been delight. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were red. She loved this.
The acceleration soon slowed as the boat approached its top speed. Hermione guided the boat into a very wide turn as the north shore came upon them, bringing the vessel around toward the south. They streaked across the lake in silence for another minute, just enjoying the adrenaline rush it brought. Hermione's pony tail flew out behind her head. Harry thought she would have looked like a movie star if only she was wearing sunglasses.
"My parents were wondering where I've been," she said, conversationally, even though they were skimming over the water almost as fast as Harry had ever flown on a broom.
"Oh?" he intoned. She looked over at him.
"Yeah, and guess what I told them?" There was a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes.
"That you were a good little girl and shacked up with Luna or something?" he retorted, in a playful tone. She just smirked at him.
"First of all, Luna and Ron live together, and secondly, you're not even close. I told them truth," she said, simply.
"You told your parents we had-"
"No, Harry," she cut him off, laughing at what must have been the stupidity of what he'd been about to say. "I just said that I'd been staying with you for the past two weeks, and it grew into a habit."
"I'm sure they ate that up," Harry said. They had just passed the dock, and were now on the southern half of the lake. He conjured a glass of water, took a few sips, and put in into the cup holder.
"Daddy did," she responded, "and he went outside to do some yard work. Mum knows better, though, and wanted to know what I'd really been doing."
"Well, you didn't exactly lie," Harry pointed out, wondering how open-minded Jane was when it came to Hermione. Harry didn't want to suddenly become the bad guy, though he would deal with it if he had. Hermione was worth it, and he kept hearing her words in the back of his mind: whatever it takes.
"True, and she knew that. But she could also tell, Harry. She asked if you were worth all the hype," she said, looking over at him. She started laughing out loud at the affronted look he knew was on his face.
"Don't worry, dear," she continued, patting his face in a patronizing sort of way, though she was only joking. "I told her you measured up."
"Nice, Hermione," he responded, dryly. "I'm sure your mum wanted to know the details."
"Maybe," Hermione came back, and they looked at each other. She was smiling, but he could tell she was thinking about what had transpired only a few hours before, and so was he. He wouldn't mind repeating that sometime soon. She was just so lovely.
Hermione turned wheel, skimming along the shallows near the southern shore of the lake, and headed the boat north once again.
"Hermione…" Harry started.
"Yeah?"
"I was wondering if you would…come and see the portraits with me?"
"Of course, Harry," she said. There was a tender look on her face. She steered the boat toward the dock and powered the engines down a bit. Silence settled between them as they watched the moor draw near, and Hermione eventually stopped the boat within inches of the dock.
"See?" Hermione pointed out. "Not so hard, is it?"
"I always knew you were brilliant," Harry said, standing up and wrapping his arms around Hermione's torso. Since she was only wearing a bikini top, there was much skin-to-skin contact, and Harry greatly enjoyed it. Hers was very warm and smooth. She turned her head and planted a kiss on his lips. When he tried to deepen it, however, she pulled her lips back and smiled at him.
"The portraits, Harry," she commented, with a laugh in her voice. Her eyes still had that tender look. She cut the engines and they faded away.
"Yeah," he breathed. He reached down, grabbed the tether with a hand, and Apparated them both onto the dock. After tying the boat off, he turned back to her and hugged her to him. She dropped her head to his chest.
They appeared silently in the foyer of the Manor, just outside of the door to the parlor where the portraits were. Hermione raised her head, looking him in the eyes.
"It doesn't even feel like Apparition when you do it," she said.
"Hmm?" Harry intoned. He had already been thinking of facing his parents for the first time…ever.
"Nevermind," Hermione smiled. She let go of Harry and turned to the door. She looked back briefly; meeting his eyes once again, and then went through the door into the parlor. After just a short pause, Harry followed her into the room.
"Boys," a voice said, one that he recognized, one that sent his heart rate up fifty beats per minute. "Boys!" it shouted, this time much more insistently.
Harry could see that the three people were grouped in one of the portraits, and as he came closer he saw that his mother-flaming red hair, small stature-was standing up, hands on her hips, glaring down at the two other wizards. One of those wizards had hair like Harry's, though his face was concealed, so Harry knew it was his father; the other wizard had slightly shaggy but tamed dark hair.
"James. Sirius. Enough!" his mother shouted down at them. Harry stopped five feet from the portrait, with Hermione by his side, and suddenly laughed at what he saw. His father and godfather were on the ground, wrestling. Sirius had James in a headlock and James was trying to punch Sirius in the back of the head. At Harry's laugh, however, they both looked up, as did Lily.
A shocked silence passed between the five people for a moment, and Harry suddenly realized he was looking at his parents. Sure, they were only portraits, only an echo of the real thing, but it didn't matter.
Sirius let go of James and they both stood, brushing themselves off. Both men were grinning like fools; his father's was slightly lopsided.
"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, and the silence shattered. "And Hermione!"
"Son," his dad said.
"Harry James…" his mother said.
"Dad…Mum…Sirius!" Harry said, looking back and forth from their shocked and smiling faces.
"How old are you?" his mother asked, her eyes watering a bit. Lily was scrutinizing him very closely, eyes sweeping over his figure. He felt his face heat up slightly when he realized he still wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Almost twenty two," he answered.
"Who's the lovely girl?" James asked, looking at Hermione.
"She's Her-"
"Thank you, Sirius," Hermione cut him off, smiling, "but I can answer for myself. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Hermione Granger. I, uh, went to Hogwarts with Harry."
"Twenty-two?" his mother asked, still hung up on Harry's age. "But…you should have come to live here as soon as you graduated…" A dark look crossed her face, and she glanced at Sirius, but Harry had an idea what she meant. Sirius had probably told her all that had transpired since their deaths, as far as he knew. Except now there was almost a six-year gap in their knowledge.
"Sirius, you didn't tell me my son was buff," James said, punching Sirius on the shoulder and winking at Harry. Merlin, what Harry wouldn't give to actually have living, breathing versions of the three people before him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel, standing before these portraits. There was a kind of disconnect, at the moment.
"He wasn't," Sirius said, shoving James and rubbing his shoulder. "And," he continued, eyeing Hermione, "Hermione's changed a lot, too."
"Keep your eyes where I can see them, Sirius," Hermione said, sweetly, though her wand was suddenly in her hand, tapping against her thigh.
"So why did it take so long for you to get here after graduation?" Lily asked, still looking slightly confused. Harry saw Sirius roll his eyes.
"Lils, it's quite obvious that several years have passed since I died. I'm sure Harry will tell us what's happened since then, when he has time," Sirius said. Lily looked at him for a moment, and then mimicked Hermione. Wand out and tapping against her thigh, she said:
"Call me Lils again and you'll wish you had died…again."
"I like your mum already, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry smiled. Whatever he had expected, the playful attitude between the portraits was a bit of a surprise. They all seemed to be taking seeing Harry again in stride; Harry assumed that they'd had a long time to come to terms with their own deaths.
"Thank you…Hermione, was it?" Lily asked, now looking at Hermione. Sirius stuck his tongue out at Lily behind her back. Harry chuckled at his godfather.
"Yes, Mrs. Potter," Hermione answered.
"You two are friends?" Lily asked. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, smiling, and they both nodded back.
"Well, you can call us Lily and James, then," she said. "And just call Sirius `git'."
"Oh, come on, mum, Sirius isn't that bad," Harry put in, figuring he should at least attempt some defense of Sirius.
"Yes he is," she replied, grinning at Sirius, who just shrugged.
"Anyways," James cut in, "how are you, Harry? Hatty died around the same time Sirius did, just after actually, so we don't know anything that's been happening. Is Voldemort…gone?"
Harry was bewildered. His parents had missed so much; he didn't even know where to begin. Answering his father's question was first priority, though.
"Yes. That Dark tosser fell from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts," Harry replied. All three people on the wall looked very intrigued, and he knew he would have to tell them the full story sometime, though not now. Hermione and Harry were due at the Burrow in a little while, and Harry didn't want to get involved in a long-winded tale of all that he'd done in the last six years. He'd just have to retell some of it to the Weasley's and whoever else was going to be at the dinner.
"Hermione and I don't really have time to fill your gaps in, not today at least," Harry said, after a moment. "In fact, we have to get going, but tomorrow I'd like to sit and chat with you three for awhile. I'd like to get to know my parents," he finished, quietly, looking intently up at them. Lily wiped her eyes and nodded, and James just smiled. Sirius gave them both rabbit ears, as he was standing behind them.
"Tomorrow then?" Lily asked, with a slight shake to her voice.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, and turned to Hermione. She looked hard at him for a moment-he would have thought she was using Legilimency, but he would have felt it-and then nodded.
"Bye Lily," she said waving to the red-haired witch. "Keep James and Sirius in line," she smirked.
"Bye mum. Dad," Harry said. "Sirius." The three portraits waved and Harry and Hermione turned, heading for the door into the foyer.
"Keep Harry in line, Hermione," Sirius shouted.
"I will," Hermione whispered, glancing at him. Harry saw a distinct emotion in her eyes, and it filled him with warmth. He smiled at her and led the way into the next room. As soon as they were through the door, love changed to concern and she was looking hard at him again.
"Why'd you leave so fast?" she asked.
"I just…I want to have as much time as we need to tell them everything," he said, hoping Hermione would understand. She cocked her head slightly, as if considering his words, and then nodded.
"We will," she affirmed, laying a hand on his arm.
Harry suddenly had a thought.
"What time is it?"
"Umm…" Hermione said, glancing at the small watch around her wrist. "Two."
"Think we have time to look through that box I left with you?" Harry asked her. He saw confusion for just a moment, and then the realization of what he was talking about.
"But-"
"I know you never would have opened it, Hermione," Harry cut her off, knowing what she was going to ask.
"How?" she asked, running a hand through her hair so that it caught the sunlight coming in from the windows set high in the walls.
"I know you," Harry answered, looking straight into her eyes. She reciprocated and then nodded.
"We do," she said, taking his hand. A shutter-click, a brief feeling of compression, and they were standing in the middle of the Granger living room. Jane and Dan were nowhere in sight. Still holding Harry's hand, Hermione led him to the stairs and up them. The door to her room was open and he followed her inside. She pointed to a small box on her shelf.
He paced over to it, removed the box, and brought it over to her bed, where she was waiting for him. Waving a hand over the top of the box to magically unseal the contents, he placed the now open container down on her mattress.
"It just never seemed right to open it," Hermione commented as they both looked down into the box. The invisibility cloak sat on top, obscuring everything else beneath. Harry lifted it out of the box and set it on the bed, and then started pulling things out: a blank piece of parchment, otherwise known as the Marauder's Map; his potion's kit; a shrunken cauldron; a few spellbooks, battered and overused; and finally on the bottom a magical photo album.
"You left this here?" Hermione asked, taking the album from Harry's hands. She opened to the first page, and smiled at the picture there. A very young-probably eleven or twelve-Trio waved up at her, smiling and laughing.
"Yeah," Harry said, staring at the happy image of his younger self. They had all been so innocent then, ignorant of everything that lay in wait for them. He knew he wouldn't change any of it, though, even his parents' deaths, because his friendships, primarily with Ron and Hermione, had been forged and strengthened through the difficulties they had all faced throughout the years. The reason the `Trio' had always held together so well, except for a very brief time during their sixth year, was that they had all trusted each other with their lives. Neville, Ginny, and Luna had come into the picture later (and literally, too, because now Hermione was looking at a picture of the six of them, taken shortly before his seventh year), but they weren't any less important. The Six, as they'd simply been called, faced death in various ways over the years, beginning with the Ministry of Magic fiasco at the end of Harry's fifth year.
There was a certain kind of friendship born of the desperation and dependence caused by mortal danger, a strong brand that transcended normal barriers between people; add to that the fact that, as Harry now knew, the six of them had been splitting further into three pairs of two…the bond they had created was sturdy. He would be returning to the Burrow shortly, facing them all again, and after so long he didn't know what to expect. Without the war going on around them all, would there still be common ground between the six of them?
"Look at this one," Hermione said, drawing Harry's eyes back to the album in her lap. She was lightly running her finger over a moving image of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Ginny leading the charge against the Death Eaters during the final confrontation. Harry was at the front of the students and teachers, and Voldemort was at the head of the Dark army. The two sides drew near-Harry and Voldemort began to cast powerful spells-and then the picture restarted.
"Colin took that just before he was burned," Harry said, very quietly. "Did he ever recover?"
"Mostly," Hermione said, looking up at him. "There are some lasting scars, but nothing too bad."
"What does he do now?" Harry asked, curious for some reason.
"Photographer for a Muggle magazine. National Geographic, I think."
"Oh," Harry breathed, staring at the image once again. Harry and Voldemort were staring hard at each other, a look of determination on his own face and a look of hatred on his archenemy's. And there were the five others, bravely at his back, heading with him toward their fate. He would be seeing them again. He wondered what he'd say?
"We should get going," Hermione said, closing the album and piling everything back into the box. "You
can pick this up later."
"Ok," Harry sighed.
"You alright?" Hermione asked, concern on her face once again. She found a shirt and pulled it over her bikini top. Harry conjured one and pulled it over his head.
"Yeah," Harry replied. He reached for her hand. "I will be." A heartbeat later, Hermione's room was empty again.
----------
They appeared on the wide dirt lane leading from the Burrow to Ottery St. Catchpole, just outside of the low rock wall that bordered the Weasley property. Harry looked toward the house, with all of its familiar eccentricities, and saw that many people were congregated outside.
"Wonder what they're doing?" Hermione asked, as they both set off toward it.
Harry squinted against the sunlight. He thought he saw broomsticks in the hands of many of the people-he was sure Ron had one, because he'd recognize his Firebolt anywhere. He had given it to Ron before leaving for uni, and it looked like Ron hadn't had any cause to replace it since then.
"Quidditch maybe?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione. She just rolled her eyes.
"Of course," she said, dryly. "Can't go to a Weasley dinner without some Quidditch going on, can you?"
"Still afraid of flying, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking sideways at her.
"Actually," she said, stopping and looking at him, "I'm not. I just always thought Quidditch was mildly boring."
He stopped as well, pretending to look hurt. "You thought I was boring when I played Seeker for Gryffindor?"
"I was too worried about you getting killed doing something stupid," she said, smiling a little, "to consider how boring it was."
"Ooooh, I see how it is," he said, and the continued on their way.
"You and your bloody aerial gymnastics…give a girl a heart attack," she said, almost fondly, as if remembering the days of Hogwarts Quidditch.
"You can blame Oliver Wood for everything," Harry told her. "He was the one who first told me to get the Snitch or die trying. I took that advice to heart in every match after that."
Hermione made a noise. "I'm not surprised."
"Harry!" a voice called, and he immediately recognized it as Ron's. Harry and Hermione looked up toward the Burrow, and saw Ron rushing over toward them. Everyone else in the yard was looking in his direction.
As Ron drew closer, Harry saw that his tall friend hadn't changed that much. He looked to be slightly more muscular, was wearing fine clothing instead of second-hand, and his hair was a bit more strawberry blondish than ginger. Harry thought it was probably because of all the Quidditch Ron played in the sun.
"Hey! Welcome back!" Ron said, rather breathlessly when he reached them. Harry saw he was wearing Keeper gloves, with little pictures of wasps on them.
"Hey Ron…" Harry started, wondering what he could possibly say.
"You have a broom?" Ron asked, surprising Harry slightly.
"Uh…no." Harry indicated the Firebolt in Ron's hands. "Gave it to you, remember?" Ron paused for just a second, looking down at the broom in his hands.
"Right. Well, we're gonna try and get a real Quidditch match going-you know, full teams-and we need a Seeker and a Chaser." Ron's eyes swept over Harry and Hermione. "And you two fit the bill perfectly."
"I don't play Quidditch, Ron," Hermione said, giving Ron her look.
"Oh, come on-" Ron started, but Harry cut him off:
"Just this once, Hermione." Harry pouted slightly at her, playing it for all it was worth, and she just looked back and forth between him and Ron. Finally, she gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head lightly.
"Fine," she said, "but just this once. I don't have a broomstick, though."
"S'ok," Harry said, already fairly excited about the prospect of getting up in the air once again. Whatever awkwardness he had expected with this reunion was being swept away by his love of flying. "I'll just pop on over to Diagon Alley and get us brooms."
"Harry-"
"Don't worry about it, Hermione. It's the least I can do," he said over what he knew was going to be a protest about him buying her a broom. She locked gazes with him and soon nodded.
"We'll set up teams while you're gone," Ron said.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Harry said, preparing to Disapparate.
"It's good to have you back," Ron called over his shoulder, as he and Hermione headed toward the Burrow. Harry smiled and translocated, appearing just outside Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon.
As it was mid-afternoon, the Alley was fairly busy, so Harry ducked into the broom supply shop rather quickly. There were a few customers milling about, but none of them paid him any attention. He walked over to the counter, getting the attention of the proprietor.
"Yes, what can I do for-Mr. Potter?" the man suddenly asked, staring at him. Harry felt a cold wave of deja vu pass through him as the man's eyes swept to his scar and then back down again.
"Yes," Harry said, knowing the other patrons in the shop were aware of his presence now.
"Uh…how can I help you?" the man asked, clearly bewildered.
"What are your best Quidditch brooms?" Harry asked, wanting to speed the business along.
"Well, there's the Firebolt line, good for any Quidditch position, and also the Nimbus line, who've just introduced brooms tailored for each position-"
"Seeker and Chaser," Harry supplied.
"The best Seeker model we carry is the Nimbus 2100S; likewise, the best Chaser model we have is the Nimbus 2100C."
"What's the difference between them?"
"The 2100S is designed with faster acceleration and a high top speed, at the cost of a slight amount of fine control," the man explained, eager to help Harry. Harry knew why-the brooms they were discussing probably cost several thousand galleons each. "The 2100C has very fine control and decent acceleration at the cost of a high top speed."
"I see. How much for both?"
The man's eyes widened. "Let me see here," he said, consulting a parchment on the counter. "The 2100S is 6,500 galleons and the 2100C is 6,000."
"12,000 for both, and you have a deal." Harry bartered. The man hesitated, but then nodded.
"One second, Mr. Potter." He went into a backroom and soon reappeared with two expensively packaged brooms.
"Can I interest you in anything else today? Perhaps some Broom Polishing-"
"Maybe another day," Harry cut the man off. He took a quill and parchment from the counter and wrote a withdrawal slip for 12,000 galleons. He signed his name and then added some of his magic to the note.
"Send this to the goblins and they will transfer the funds to you," Harry said, reaching out his hands for the brooms. The man handed them over.
"Very well," he said, picking up the parchment. "Thank you, Mr.-"
But Harry had already Disapparated. He reappeared at the edge of the back yard of the Burrow, holding the brooms in his hands. Ginny spotted him first. She had matured a little since he'd last seen her. She looked like a woman, not just Ron's little sister.
"Oi," she called. "Harry's back." All eyes turned toward him once again, and he was finally able to see everyone who was in the yard.
Off to one side stood Ron, Hermione, Fred, Neville, Arthur, and Luna. Opposite them stood Bill, Charlie, Ginny, Fleur, George, Remus, and Tonks. They all looked a little older than he'd previously known them to be, but they also all looked healthy and happy.
Standing on the porch, watching the people in the yard, were Molly, Minerva, and Remus's young son. Harry thought his name was William, but he was a little ashamed that he couldn't remember for sure.
"Hey everyone," he called out, and he knew it was a rather underwhelming greeting after being absent for so long.
"Over here, Harry," Ron called, waving Harry over to the group of six.
"Are those the new Nimbus brooms?" Charlie asked him, as he passed. He'd only seen Charlie a few times over the years, and now that Harry was closer, he could tell that Charlie was still working with dragons. Several small burns still stood out on his arms.
"Yeah," he grinned.
"Great," Charlie muttered, looking down at his Nimbus 2001. Something clicked and Harry remembered Charlie had been a star seeker at Hogwarts. Harry would likely be flying against him.
Harry arrived at his team and started unwrapping the brooms from the packaging. Hermione picked up something that fluttered to the ground.
"Harry!" she exclaimed. He looked at her.
"These brooms cost six thousand galleons, each! I can't let you spend that much on me-"
"Drop in the bucket," Harry said, quietly. "Don't worry about it, Hermione." She gave him a look that indicated We'll talk about this later, but said no more. He handed the 2100C to her.
"Nice, Harry," Ron said, eyeing the new brooms. Harry attributed Ron's lack of any kind of envy or jealousy to the redhead's older years and advanced maturity.
"Ok, here's how it's going to work," Ron called out, drawing the attention of everyone. "My team is me as Keeper; Hermione, Dad, and Luna as Chasers; Fred and Neville as Beaters; and Harry, of course as Seeker."
"My team," Bill called out, "is Fleur, Ginny, and I as Chasers; Tonks and George as Beaters; Remus as Keeper; and Charlie as Seeker."
"Game ends when either Harry or Charlie catch the snitch," Ron said, beckoning everyone into the middle of the yard.
"Where're the goals?" Harry asked, looking around.
"We figured you could do a spot of Transfiguration for that, Harry," Tonks said, grinning at him. Tonks looked very good, he noticed. She'd toned up a bit since he'd last seen her-he didn't have to wonder why she was chosen as a Beater.
"Why me?" Harry asked.
"It'd be easiest for you," Remus said, also grinning at Harry.
"Ok…" Harry said, setting his broom down. He drew his wand and looked around for things to Transfigure. He spotted a small pile of logs and pointed his wand at them. Three rose high into the air and soared away from them. They stuck themselves into the ground and then grew into the sky, fifty feet up. Hoops sprouted on the end of them. He took three more logs and repeated the process, this time at the opposite end of the yard.
"Happy now?" Harry asked, replacing his wand and bending to pick up his broom.
"Very," Minerva said, from behind them. "I see you haven't forgotten what I taught you, Harry." She was moving toward the teams, carrying a Quidditch crate.
"How could I?" Harry asked her, smiling a bit. That produced some general laughter. Minerva set the crate on the ground in the middle of the improvised pitch.
"All of you ready?" she asked. They mounted their brooms and nodded. Harry's new 2100S hummed between his legs. He couldn't keep the grin off his face-he was going to fly again! Seeing everyone again had gone so smoothly that he'd completely forgotten about his earlier anxiety.
"Do be careful, all of you," Molly called from the porch.
"Yes mum," a chorus of Weasley's called out, with the exception of Arthur, who said, "Yes dear."
"You too, Harry," she said.
"I'll try to be, Molly," Harry called back. "I can't guarantee Charlie's safety, though…"
"Oh, it's on, Potter," the second-eldest Weasley growled at him. His eyes were twinkling with mirth, though.
"On my count…three…two…one…FLY!" Minerva yelled, opening the box. The Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch rose into the air, followed by the players. In the next instant, the Snitch disappeared from sight, and Harry rocketed upward, whooping slightly as the wind hit his face and ruffled his hair. It felt good to be back.
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