Chapter Four
No Going Back
Hermione bade a tearful farewell to her parents the following morning. There was a real danger that this could be the last time she would ever see them, and again Harry wondered why he was allowing her to help him. His heart may be having second thoughts but his head knew the reason only too well, without her he would fail, Hermione had almost become his lucky charm, he knew she would never let him down he only hoped he could be as strong for her. At this particular moment he was trying very hard. He shook hands with Mr. Granger who wished him good luck and gave his shoulder a squeeze of encouragement, but all the stiff upper lip stuff went out of the window when Hermione's mother grabbed him and hugged him fiercely she was crying freely as she had done from the moment the pair had got up from the breakfast table to prepare for the trip to Hogwarts.
"You will take care," she said to him using the same words she had spoken to her daughter, "and you will come back safe." It was almost that if she believed in the words enough then they would come to pass. She looked him straight in the eyes. "Remember Harry that whatever and I mean whatever happens," she glanced longingly at Hermione wishing she didn't have to go, "you will always be welcome here."
"Thank-you Mrs Granger, said Harry thickly.
"Time to go Harry," Hermione said, wanting to leave before her emotions got the better of her again.
"Right," Harry took her hand and they walked to the middle of the lawn. They stood side by side dressed in their long dragon hide coats, their few possessions crammed into the haversack Harry was carrying. "Three D's in order," Hermione nodded. Then with a CRACK the pair vanished.
* * *
They reappeared in the middle of a rain shower, on a rocky hillside with a view over the Glen that held the lake and Hogwarts castle. They were no more than six feet from the entrance to a small cave that they had visited before and they dived into it to shelter from the downpour. Harry relieved himself of the weight of the haversack and stuck it in a dry corner.
"You'd think there would be at least one month in the year when it doesn't rain up here," complained Hermione. Then she ran her fingers through her shorn locks and smiled.
"At least I won't have to spend hours getting this dry." Harry laughed with her.
"You know I can't get over how very different it makes you look," he said then quickly glanced out at the rain again as he saw a quick flush rise in her cheeks.
"Does it really? Because it makes me feel different, freer, something like that," she said flicking her head and making the curls fly out.
"I like it," Harry said his voice betraying him by giving a rare adolescent to man warble that he thought he had grown out of.
"Do you really?" said Hermione coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
"Err… yes, said Harry shyly, "a lot."
"Ooh, good," she said in a most un-Hermione like way.
Harry took another long look at his friend, he had never played this game before and was rather uncertain of the rules, and he hoped Hermione would forgive him if he made a few mistakes. He thought he ought to make sure that the game had started and he could think of no other way so he asked her directly. "Hermione, are you flirting with me?"
There was a slight pause possibly of shock, possibly of surprise, but most probably because Hermione was considering her answer and its consequences. "Yes,…well maybe…yes." She challenged him, her look most definitely said, 'So what are you going to do about it.'
"Oh that's great!" said Harry enthusiastically and Hermione's eyes opened wide and the flush in her cheeks deepened, he held the moment for as long as he dared, he was enjoying the game. "It's stopped raining," he said completely seriously, and he pointed over her shoulder at the clouds fleeing the sky. Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously but Harry fully aware of what he had said and done, laughed and kissed her quickly on one flaming cheek, "Thanks," he whispered in her ear. "Come on lets go before it starts again." he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.
The walk to the gates of Hogwarts took them about half an hour, all the way down the gravel drive Harry looked anywhere but at the shining white tomb down by the lake, trying with all his might to pretend it didn't exist. They reached the steps to the castle and could see Argus Filtch the school caretaker standing just inside the partly open doors. Harry still holding Hermione's hand marched quickly up the short flight Hermione almost having to run to keep up with him.
"Well, well, Mr Potter," Filtch started in his slow drawl obviously working his way up so some scathing comment. He never got the chance, and was left open mouthed and spluttering as Harry and Hermione swept passed him as if he wasn't there. They were halfway up the grand stairs before he regained his composure, "You wait, after today it's Azkaban for you Potter if you are caught here," he yelled in their wake, "and I hope it's me that catches you…. I've chains waiting," he added at the top of his voice.
Harry slowed his pace once they rounded the first corner and Filtch disappeared from sight. Hermione clung to him while she recovered from the rush up the stairs. Then following a path they had trod many times before they made their way to the Headmistress' office. "Tartan Shortbread," said Hermione to the gargoyle guarding the spiral stairs, it jumped to one side.
"How did you know that?" said Harry in surprise.
"Head Girl, remember?" said Hermione, with no enthusiasm.
"Oh yeh," said Harry, equally disheartened.
They climbed slowly up the winding flight and stood in front of the familiar door. Their knock was answered by a lilting "Come in" Harry hesitated but Hermione opened the door and dragged him in across the threshold. Professor McGonagall, who was seated at Dumbledore's old desk, stared at the pair of them as they crossed the floor to her. 'They wear those long black coats like some form of armour,' she thought, and it almost detracted from the most striking difference. "Well Miss Granger looks like you have gone for a change of style," the old Professor studied the girl's stance her whole demeanour was different, a strength that hadn't shown itself before, "umm… suits you."
"Thank-you Professor." Hermione flashed a smile.
"Right then Mr. Potter… Harry, sit down the both of you." two comfortable chairs materialised behind them, and they did as they were asked. "Before you say anything let me tell you that the decisions made about you have nothing to do with the feelings of the school. I have no doubt that you are aware who instigated this. Regardless of the facts it is our intention to give you as much help and instruction as we can; we only have to find a way to do it, considering the restrictions that will be placed on us by the ministry committee."
"It is very kind of you to worry Professor but I never really expected to return to school, not full time anyway," Harry told her, "Dumbledore gave me a task, and completing that comes before anything," he said. 'Anything apart from keeping her safe.' he promised himself, laying his hand on Hermione's that was resting on the arm of her chair. The elderly witch glanced between the two youngsters, her expression didn't change. "Though I will admit that any information and instruction the Professors here can give me will be very valuable, said Harry ruefully, I didn't cope too well against Snape, I guess there is room for improvement," he gave a sad little smile, "a lot of room."
"Well maybe you're right, but at least we are agreed on something," McGonagall said, Harry could see the Headmistress mulling over the possibilities in her mind. Hermione sat next to him saying nothing, her grip on his hand tightened and relaxed as if she wanted to act or speak up then decided that it wasn't the right moment. Harry turned to her and winked, she returned the slightest smile and her grip relaxed again, only to suddenly tighten when McGonagall finally spoke. "It seems to me that with Hermione as Head Girl…" 'This is it' thought Harry, 'I knew this was coming, this is where I lose Hermione,' but McGonagall said no more because at that instant she was interrupted by the self same girl.
"Excuse me Professor, but before you go any further I feel I should give you this." Without a trace of the nerves that Harry knew she was feeling because her hand had become all sweaty, she produced from the inside pocket of her coat a single piece of parchment. She held it out to the Headmistress who opened it, read its contents, and then looked at Hermione questioningly.
"This is your letter of appointment as Head Girl Miss err… Hermione. I don't understand." There was an expression of utter confusion on her face. "Please explain."
"I don't want it," said Hermione stoically though Harry knew this was something she had wanted throughout all her school life.
"I beg your pardon!" McGonagall could not believe her ears. "I don't think you understand the implications of your actions. No student in the whole of the School's history has ever refused to take this position, it is just not done!"
"Harry and I have far too much to do, I will be remaining with him and we will study together," Hermione was being very firm, not prepared to give an inch. "I have it all worked out."
"Have you now!" Harry could see that the Headmistress had not foreseen this turn of events and was not pleased. Harry hadn't seen it coming either, he wondered what had made Hermione do it. Then he understood, she was doing this for him, she said she wouldn't leave him, but he hadn't expected her to be quite so literal. The little spark of hope that had dimmed at the thought of her in school without him, flared again, he still had his lucky charm.
McGonagall was not the only dissenter in the room, a large proportion of the portraits of past Heads were loudly expressing their displeasure, and as he looked from painting to painting Harry saw Dumbledore's portrait hanging on the wall by the window. The old man was sitting in the frame exactly as he had been after the funeral, head bent forward resting on his chest; he appeared to be dozing in his chair. Harry hated seeing that image and he pulled his eyes away from the painting, then there was a discrete cough that penetrated the din. It was not loud but sounded agonizingly familiar and the clamour died, Harry's eyes flew back to Dumbledore's portrait but the figure in the chair hadn't moved.
The anger slowly faded from the Headmistress' eyes as she controlled her breathing and calmed herself. "Very well Miss Granger," she said primly, "let us have this wonderful plan of yours."
Hermione had sat very still through the uproar, as if unmoved by all the fuss, she knew in her own mind what was needed and she hoped her plan was all she thought it was. Now she had her chance to explain she didn't intend to waste it. "Harry and I can set up shop in the Shrieking Shack; we will add some wards to it to keep out the over curious and we have the passageway to the Whomping Willow which will give us access to the school or the Professors access to us. We can apparate in and out easily and any of our friends can visit in safety." she looked at Harry who was grinning at her, 'even the one the Shack was originally designed for.' She flashed him a smile at the thought of Remus being able to help them again.
"It's a brilliant idea," said Harry enthusiastically.
"I will be the judge of that Mr Potter," the Scots burr brought him back to reality, "but I have to admit it has some merit. Yes, it certainly has some merit."
Professor McGonagall placed Hermione's letter in a drawer of her desk. "Most inconsiderate of you Miss Granger to leave the School just now, I will have to choose another Head Girl and I suppose that Mr Weasley will not be too pleased."
"Why should Ron care?" said Hermione coldly, then she looked aghast, "you didn't make him Head Boy, did you?"
"Oh goodness no," McGonagall actually laughed, "Terry Boot, from Ravenclaw, Ron is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but that is not what I meant," she became a little uncomfortable, "at the end of term weren't you…."
"Yes… and not now." said Hermione sharply.
Harry dived in to forestall any more questioning on that particular subject. "You're actually playing Quidditch this year with everything that is going on?" asked Harry who couldn't hide his disbelief.
"Yes Harry, the committee require Hogwarts to operate completely normally; we act as if nothing has happened." The Headmistress' sarcasm was not lost on either of the pair. "Still that is none of your concern, here have some tea." She gave a casual wave of her wand, as she pushed back her chair and stood, cups and a pot appeared on a small table. "Biscuits on the desk," she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. McGonagall stopped and turned back to Harry and Hermione, "I will not be very long, there is something I need to do. Now remember that you have only been allowed back into the castle for this interview, once it is over you will have to go, it is very important that you do not leave this room."
Professor McGonagall swept out of the office and disappeared down the stairs, Hermione and Harry sat in silence, not wanting to talk in the presence of so many active portraits. To Harry the room was hardly changed, except for the absence of Fawkes' perch and the replacement of Dumbledore's sweet tin with McGonagall's biscuit barrel, it could have been the same. Harry's mind drifted back to the times he had sat here under Dumbledore's watchful eye, it all seemed so strange that he was not here; even the portrait of the old man gave no reflection of his presence, the figure continually dozing appeared to have no life of its own. Harry discovered that it was impossible to stare at that portrait for any length of time, when he tried his vision kept slipping away to one side or the other so in the end he gave up and he looked instead at the wonderfully intricate telescope up on its raised platform and remembered the occasions he had seen the old headmaster using it.
Hermione was watching Harry, it was almost as if she could read his mind, she knew he was storing up the memories this place had for him, had for them all, she suddenly felt that she wanted to hold him to tell him it would be alright. Why had she become so protective of the young man who in truth was more likely to be the one protecting her? There must be a reason, the same reason she had turned down Head Girl? She slipped out of her seat and sat on the armrest of Harry's chair, then sliding down between Harry and the armrest she reached her goal and Harry realised she was there.
So lost in his own thoughts it was only the sudden weight of her sitting partly in his lap and that seductive perfume that alerted him to the fact that Hermione had joined him scrunching herself next to him in the armchair. It was as if she was aware of the direction his thoughts were taking him and she was there to comfort him and tell him it was alright.
"OK Harry?" she whispered in his ear.
"Fine," he sighed, and shivered as her warm breath on his neck raised goosebumps on his arms.
"Good," she curled an arm around his neck.
"Thanks, Hermione."
"Don't mention it." and she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. They sat silently taking in the magical atmosphere of the room, happy to be together, for the moment not worrying about the future.
At McGonagall's return Hermione slowly levered herself out of Harry's chair and sat back down in her own. If the Headmistress wondered what had transpired in her absence she said nothing about it. She did present them with several sheets of parchment containing the spells they would need to construct adequate wards around the Shrieking Shack and protect the tunnel leading to the Whomping Willow. They had to remember that Peter Pettigrew and Severus Snape knew its secret, and what they knew they could only assume that Voldemort would know as well. She also told them the secret of the back room in the Hogshead Tavern, a meeting place known only to select members of the Order of the Phoenix; fortunately Snape had not been among them, and the spell to gain entry. She gave them a name, Langdon Long, he would be their contact at the tavern should they need him. They had until the start of term to get themselves organised, so not a lot of time and much to do. Professor McGonagall bade them farewell with the promise to see them again in a few weeks, and Harry and Hermione left her office and Hogwarts ostensibly for ever.
As she watched her two ex-students walking away Minerva McGonagall sighed, she was worried, they were on their own now, and no doubt eventually they would draw Ron Weasley into it as well. She turned to the ancient mirror by the desk and spoke to her reflection as if it was someone else, "Well I hope you're satisfied, I have carried out my tasks. Oh Albus!" her voice rose in exasperation, "I hope you know what you have done." her reflection didn't answer and neither did Dumbledore.
* * *
Their first port of call was the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta was not there and the girl that served them gave no sign of knowing who they were. Hermione took the opportunity to spread the parchments McGonagall had given them out on the table and studied them intently. The magic was complex, but she thought within their capabilities, this piece of information caused Harry some consternation when Hermione told him that he would have to cast the spells with her in order to make the protection complete. So he stuffed down his plate of stew as fast as he could, and then started to study the sheets as diligently as Hermione. Two hours, and several Butterbeers later, they thought they had mastered the intricacies of the enchantments. There was only one way to find out, and that was to give it a go. So gathering their belongings and placing the ten Sickles on the table to pay for the meal and drinks, the pair headed out of the pub and the village toward the rickety old building hidden in the trees.
To get to the Shrieking Shack without passing through the tunnel from Hogwarts was not easy; the main track gave the building with the unsavoury reputation a wide berth. There was a certain amount of pushing through the dense vegetation and they had to be careful not to leave a recognisable track. Fortunately they would only have to do this once, one of the spells they carried with them would enable them to set a specific apparation point that only they would be able to tune to, and so bypass the protection wards. They reached the walls of the Shack and proceeded to search for the door, not that they were certain that it had one. Several circuits of the building later both Harry and Hermione were beginning to think that they would have to sneak back on to Hogwarts grounds and brave the Whomping Willow, there appeared to be no way in. As they were discussing in low tones what to do next Harry silenced Hermione by placing his fingers on her lips, and then she heard it too, a tuneless whistle and a discordant humming sound, it sounded ghastly, and it was getting closer. Crouching down below the level of the bushes the pair crept slowly toward that unpleasant noise, then Harry had to stifle a laugh because as the sound became clearer he recognised the source, it was Hagrid.
The half giant was marching through the trees along a path that appeared to come from the direction of the school or more precisely the side of the lake that held the greater part of the Forbidden Forest. The path didn't seem to lead anywhere; it finished at a point where the tendrils of a willow that presumably was not of the Whomping variety touched the ground. As Hagrid reached this spot he pushed the branches aside revealing a stout pair of doors set in large block of stone that formed a bank behind the tree. Holding this leafy curtain to one side he fumbled for his pink umbrella, and pointed its tip at the lock between the doors.
"Ulloamoora," he chanted, the umbrella released a small puff of smoke and a single yellow spark, "Oh bugger!" said Hagrid with a lot of feeling, "'Ave to do it the hard way again," he said to himself in a resigned tone. He put the umbrella back inside his coat and spread his considerable arms wide gripping both outer edges of the doors in his great hands.
Harry and Hermione watching this from their hiding place heard his grunt of effort and a grating noise. The large figure straightened his back and lifted both the doors off their hinges, the lock between them still intact. With a practiced movement that showed Hagrid probably had to do this every time, he turned and leaned the double doors against the face of a convenient rock. He turned back to the cavernous interior of the hidden room that resided behind those doors. Not bothering with magic he used a flint to strike a spark and light an oil lamp that was hanging from a rafter. As the light spilt down it revealed a large irregular shape covered by a large white sheet.
"'Ello then, time for a bit of a clean I reckon," Hagrid said obviously talking to whatever was hidden by the cloth. Harry gave Hermione a look and he mouthed the question 'Dragon?' she gave a silent laugh and shook her head shrugging her shoulders at the same time.
Hagrid answered Harry's unspoken question by lifting the sheet away and exposing a gleaming and very large motorcycle. It was of no recognisable make, not that either Harry or Hermione had seen in their less than extensive exposure to the muggle variety. Harry could only recall one make, Harley Davidson, and Hermione thought that all motorbikes were made in Japan, but it wouldn't have helped even if they had been experts. This machine was a Brutus Vampire, the most powerful conversion that Brutus Vellock had ever attempted, it was a one-off and it had belonged to Sirius Black. Hagrid spent a happy half an hour singing and humming to the motorcycle whilst he cleaned oiled and polished every bit of it. The machine had shone in the lamp light before he started, by the time he finished it sparkled.
Harry and Hermione squatting in rather uncomfortable positions in order to remain hidden suffered through Hagrid's rendition of 'I lost my heart to a pink eyed Hag' and by the time he was struggling to replace the doors again had lost the feeling in their legs having passed through the pins and needles pain barrier some ten minutes before. Once Hagrid's large hairy head disappeared from view round a corner in the path Harry let out a moan and collapsed on to his back and attempted to straighten his limbs. Stiff as he was he reacted instantly when he heard Hermione cry out she was holding her leg and trying hard not to scream in pain. Harry reached out and felt the muscles under his hands, they was as hard as wood.
"Its cramp Hermione, here let me," and with an expert touch he massaged her leg and then holding her foot pushed her toes up stretching the rigid calf muscles and breaking the tension so that they relaxed. A common occurrence during hours of Quidditch practice, Harry knew that the pain would disappear almost as quickly as it had appeared, but Harry kept rubbing her leg, the muscles now soft and smooth to his touch.
Hermione sat on the ground her legs out in front and her arms behind supporting the rest of her body. Harry with his head bent was working away at her leg which was admittedly still a bit sore, but not what you could call 'in pain'. She closed her eyes and began to enjoy the sensation of Harry's hands as he continued his massage. It was like the time he had brushed her hair, she was safe in these hands, her troubles receded and she gave a sigh of contentment.
Harry looked up, and saw the dreamy expression on Hermione's face, then back down at his hands rubbing her bare leg. He felt his ears getting a little hot. "Err… are you better now," he stammered. Hermione opened her eyes to see a flaming faced Harry who was beginning to understand that playing the game wasn't as easy as he first thought.
As they had no luck searching the outside of the Shack they decided that it might be profitable to explore Hagrid's garage. A well enunciated 'Alohomora' and the lock gave a click and Harry swung the doors open. He tried to ignore the shrouded motorcycle but laid a hand on it as he passed and felt the hard metallic surfaces just under the veil that covered them. The rear of the garage was full of boxes, piles of yellowed parchment, and bits of machinery that could have come from just about anything. Hermione was searching in the far corner and found another sheet like the one covering the bike, underneath was an old mirror stained and with areas of silvering missing, she looked at its surface and found something else missing as well, her reflection.
"Harry, come and see this." she grabbed him and pushed in front of the glass.
"Oh! …" he said in surprise, and he waved his arms around, nothing waved back. He stared more intently at the image in the glass and then he recognised it. "Hang on that's the room in the Shack where we caught Wormtail."
"Of course," said Hermione pushing him away, then she reached out and attempted to touch the mirror, her hand passed right into the glass but did not appear out of the back of it "It's a two way mirror," she said triumphantly, Harry looked nonplussed, and Hermione rolled her eyes, "It's our way in."
The sensation was almost unpleasant, a stretching that started with the first finger tip to pass into the mirror and ended with the last toe out, and as that emerged on the other side a sort of elastic snap as everything returned to normal. However Hermione was right, it was the way in.
This mode of entry was unexpected and they wondered if any of the old Marauders had known of its existence, the possibilities it would have presented to them would have been endless. For the Shack's latest inhabitants it caused a problem, it was a weak point in their defences, this they had not allowed for. So while Harry did the grand tour of the three rooms that formed the Shrieking Shack, Hermione put her thinking cap on to see if she could come up with a solution. In the end it was reasonably easy, a reductor curse on the mirror in the Shack triggered if the mirror in the garage was used without a counter sign. The destruction of the receiving mirror would trap the intruder in the sending one with little chance of rescue, Hermione had it all worked out by the time Harry climbed the stairs again. She may have had success with her problem but Harry's report on the condition of the rest of the building was less encouraging. The Shack was going to take some major work to make it habitable and it would have to be done without changing it on the outside; this they knew would be harder than setting up the wards to protect it, and that was going to be difficult enough.
It was late in the evening of that first day before all the wards were in place Harry and Hermione were surprised at how robust the were. Hermione had told him that the anti-apparating spells were the same as the ones described in Hogwarts a History and used for the castle, and for once Harry didn't mind her quoting that oft quoted tome. So the Shack was safe, at least they could believe that until one of the professors had a chance to disprove them, but it was still a mess. The facilities down the stairs had suffered far worse from neglect and damp than the large bedroom come living area on the first floor. The small kitchen was disgusting and no matter what cleaning charms they tried it resisted all attempts; the bathroom was even worse and only severe desperation drove Hermione to contemplate using it at all. It was past midnight and they were filthy and exhausted sitting on the bed in the large upstairs room. The last person to use this dilapidated piece of furniture had been Ron, and some of his bloodstains were still apparent on the covers.
"I don't know Harry," Hermione was quite downhearted, "I don't think anyone can make this wreck liveable, and I'm far too tired to try any more tonight. Maybe it was not such a good idea after all." She looked close to tears with frustration.
"We could apparate out, go to the Leaky Cauldron, get a hot bath and a meal?" suggested Harry.
"Don't tempt me any more Mr. Potter, it's a lovely idea but I just can't," she gave a massive yawn and laid back on the dirty bed, "Agh… !" she cried, "This is so revolting." But within two minutes of her head raising a cloud of dust as it touched the pillow she was fast asleep.
Harry yawned himself then smiled down at her sleeping form, and gently brushed her hair away from her face, managing to leave a dirty streak across her forehead. He could see why Ron wanted to fall in love with this girl; he could compare her to no one, Cho had been a waste of space, Ginny had been fun, in fact Ginny had been great, but Hermione was perfect. Harry wondered if they would continue to play the game that had started in the small cave in the hills above Hogsmead, and he wondered if there would be a winner.
* * *
In his dream Harry sensed the smell of frying bacon; he wouldn't have minded Voldemort's nightmares half as much if they could have included such delicious aromas. Then he opened his eyes and beheld the dishevelled hangings around the old four-poster, the smell was still there and he realised he wasn't dreaming. Hermione was draped across his chest still fast asleep, he gave her a gentle prod she gave a groan and then sat bolt upright.
"Bacon?" she croaked through a dusty mouth.
"Yeh, I can smell it as well, but it means that there is someone downstairs." said Harry quietly.
"Surely if anyone wanted to get at us they wouldn't stop and make breakfast, would they?" Hermione whispered, as she absent mindedly rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with her very dirty hands, leaving two black marks on her face that made her look like a panda.
"Only if they intended to force feed us the bacon so that we died of food poisoning," said Harry half jokingly, and smiling at her appearance, "that kitchen is awful."
Making as little noise as possible, Harry and Hermione descended the stairs wands at the ready, small noises were coming from the kitchen as well as that enticing smell. They paused at the bathroom door which was slightly open Hermione took a quick glance inside and gasped in surprise, the room was spotless, and the old cracked bath and disgusting toilet were gone, replaced with shining examples of their kind. At her unintentional cry the noises in the kitchen ceased. Harry stuck his head around the door to be greeted with a similarly clean and reappointed room, the kitchen table scrubbed to perfection was laid for two, and poking out from behind the table were a pair of large round eyes. "Dobby." Harry uttered the name as Hermione came into the kitchen behind him.
"Master Harry, Sir and Miss Hermione… err, Miss," the diminutive house-elf appeared in full view, bowing low to them. "I is sorry, only having the one night I have not finished cleaning," he apologised, "I will finish upstairs today."
"What are you doing here? And how did you know where we were?" said Harry too severely for the house-elf wrung his hands in shame and went to bang his head on the wall, but Harry held him back.
"I is so sorry, I is only doing my job, which is looking after Harry Potter and Miss Hermione." he wailed. "I was sent Sir but if I hadn't been sent I would have come on my own."
"McGonagall must have sent him," said Hermione to Harry but Harry noticed the house-elf wince when Hermione made the suggestion.
"Did she Dobby, were you sent from the Castle?" Harry asked as gently as he could.
He watched the elf squirm with some internal dilemma as he considered his answer and then very slowly Dobby replied "Yes, Harry Potter Sir, I was sent from Hogwarts Castle."
With gentle persuasion Harry and Hermione managed to get Dobby to relax and explain to them how he managed to transform the kitchen and bathroom to a glory they had never seen. He assured them that their wards were intact, and he thought very good but no wizarding wards could prevent a house-elf from entering the home his master, even if elf appointed, lived in. He served them breakfast and dirty as they were they ate every mouthful. Dobby hoped they would give him the rest of the day to deal with the room upstairs, but if they gave him their clothes he would clean them now. This proved difficult as the only clothes either of them had were the ones they were standing up in and obviously Harry and Hermione's game hadn't progressed far enough to allow that level of intimacy. Then Harry suggested the invisibility cloak and Hermione readily undressed beneath it passing out her dirty garments one by one, as each one appeared Harry's eyebrows rose further up his forehead and his imagination had to be held firmly in check.
Invisible except for her head Hermione disappeared into the bathroom and then passed out the cloak to Harry only letting him see one bare and rather dirty arm. Harry disrobed and settled under the cloak using it for warmth rather than modesty as he was sitting in the kitchen on his own. Fortunately Dobby arrived back with their cleaned clothes just as Hermione finished in the bathroom, avoiding the embarrassment of what to do when you have only one invisibility cloak and two naked people.
With Hermione dressed again Harry took his turn in the bath; they had only left the Grangers yesterday but Harry had never been as dirty as this before. The cleaning foam and warm water that issued from the six taps the bath possessed were as magical as any he had washed himself in and with a judicious amount of scrubbing he managed to get himself really clean. He emerged to find Hermione sitting in the kitchen with both their dragon coats and the rest of their belongings, waiting for him. She explained that Dobby had thrown her out of the upstairs room as he wanted to start on his self-imposed tasks for the day but had said that he would let them leave through the mirror when they need to go. Harry picked up his coat it was spotless as was Hermione's and Dobby had not touched either, it appeared that not only could you not wrinkle reactive dragon hide it actively repelled dirt so it always remained clean. 'So,' thought Harry, 'at least we should look good which ever way it goes in the end.' But wisely he kept that particular thought to himself.
Dobby had already cleared the upstairs room of all the broken down furniture, the mirror was the only original piece left. They said goodbye to the house-elf and then squeezed through the glass into the garage. They had not bothered to install an apparation point in the Shack yet so as the garage was convenient and outside the wards they would apparate in and out from there for the moment. The CRACK of their apparation didn't even reach the ears of a rabbit that was sitting on the grass just outside the garage doors, and a heartbeat later they were in the lane near the Leaky Caldron. They slipped un-noticed through the door and into a quiet booth, where Tom the barman served them, then left them to themselves. They sat there contemplating their drinks, they both knew that their next hurdle was Ron, but how were they going to deal with him?
Hermione had reached the stage where she could promise not to hex him into next week but she was not in a totally forgiving mood. Harry was more pragmatic about it all, he could call Ron all the names he could think of but yelling and screaming wouldn't help matters. Although it might make him feel better, he knew it would make Ron worse. He also knew they could both talk about Ron's mistakes for ever but that would not get the job done. He wanted to make Ron one of the team again, it would be bad enough when he found out he was going back to Hogwarts on his own. Then as he gazed at Hermione, the collar of her coat turned up protecting her neck from the occasional draught that blew through the pub when someone opened the door, he thought he knew how to do it.
They came out of the shop with a large flat parcel, the cost had surprised Harry he knew the coats were expensive but it gave him pause that Hermione's parents had spent that much on him, their daughter he could understand.
"I hope this is going to be worth it," said Hermione still sounding cross about the whole idea, as they walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and over to the lane. "If he so much as calls me that name I swear he'll have to look in Mongolia for his voice."
"I think he's got the idea you don't like having your name shortened," said Harry softly. "You ought to have a nickname though," he said, as if the idea had suddenly occurred to him. Hermione looked at him sharply, "I have just the thing I think I will call you Fiz….." and Harry's voice disappeared into the air as he apparated to the Burrow.
"What, Harry, what!" she yelled uselessly at the empty spot he had occupied. Then Hermione Granger gathered herself and her considerable frustration with the opposite sex and apparated. As she vanished, to follow Harry to the Burrow, the lane resounded with the echo of "MEN!"
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