Imaginary Friend

Story Title: Imaginary Friend

Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Word count for this installment: 1,445
Running Total no. of words for entire story:1,445

Summary: Harry thinks he’s loosing his mind. He has an imaginary friend but is she as imaginary as he thinks? Response to a challenge by reptilia28 on the forum side. VERY AU!

A/N: This is my first challenge response in a very long time so please be gentle.

*~*~*

Harry Potter was vegetating. There was no other word for it.

He was lonely, no girlfriend, a dead-end job and, he admitted sullenly as he took another swig of the bottled beer in his hand, no life. He had decided that tonight, along with every other night of his adult life it seemed, he would sit on his couch and watch whatever happened to be on television.

Since Harry had lost the remote in the mass of cushions and empty beer bottles the TV was stuck on a very compelling home shopping channel, he was almost completely sure he needed an Ab-roller and it was absolutely essential that he buy that cream that would make his bikini line immaculate when he heard a very audible crash in his bedroom.

Tearing his eyes away from the woman modelling an expensive looking bracelet that was just £19.95 (Plus postage and packing) he focused his attention on the door of his room. He was seriously debating getting up from his comfortable position to investigate but as the television began to exclaim that the £19.95 (plus postage and packing) price tag had been slashed down to half price Harry became distracted from the unusual sounds of his flat. Just as he was picking up the phone to place his order yet another crash emanated from his bedroom and after only another second looking at the television he stood and made his way to the room causing the noise.

He realised belatedly that he should have probably picked something big and heavy up to defend himself against any attacker but as he burst into his room (the element or surprise is key he told himself) he thought the idea was laughable. Standing in the middle of the room looking decidedly frustrated was a petite woman with tussled hair and ruffled clothing about a head shorter than Harry. He decided immediately that this woman, whoever she was, had absolutely no business being in his flat let alone his bedroom and he proceeded to tell her as much with what Harry would later insist was a very manly roar of surprise. The woman however would counter his insistence with a snort of laughter and a retort about the scream sounding more like a seven year old girl should have issued it.

Regardless of the girlish scream Harry was still in a predicament. “Who the hell are you?!” He asked once he had regained his composure.

“What do you mean ‘Who the hell am I’? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom!?”

“Um no, this is my bedroom thank you very much.” Harry said gesturing to his clearly male bed duvet and comforter.

“What have you done to my bed you freak!?” The woman screamed causing Harry to jump slightly.

“It’s my bed!” he countered “It’s my bedroom! It’s my flat!”

“No it’s not now get out!” The woman moved towards him with such speed that Harry almost fell backwards over his badly placed pile of laundry in order to avoid her.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Stop there!” Harry said quickly holding his hands up in surrender. No matter how petite this woman was, the fire in her eyes told him not to mess with her and so he kept his hands even as she backed off a little. “How about we start this again? Hello, my name is Harry Potter and this is my flat.”

The woman glared at him but sighed and replied “Hello Harry Potter, I’m Hermione Granger and this is my flat!”

“Well Hermione Granger” he exaggerated “It was very nice to meet you but I think it’s time you left.”

Before Hermione could protest Harry had her arm held firmly and proceeded to march her out of the room.

“Now hang on just one second!” Hermione exclaimed before she slammed the brakes on and forced Harry to stop in the middle of the living room where the presenter on the television had just produced a matching watch to the bracelet for just £30.95 (plus postage and packing). “What drivel are you watching?” She said momentarily forgetting her argument.

“QVC.” Harry answered automatically.

“Why?” she questioned incredulously.

“Well I lost the remote and I was comfortable so…”

“Why didn’t you just get up to change it?”

“I said I was comfortable!”

“So you watched QVC?”

“Yeah, I watched QVC.”

“Well that’s just lazy.”

“Yeah well I was comfo- hang on why am I defending myself to an intruder!?” Harry suddenly realised beginning to frogmarch Hermione to the door once again.

“What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t throw me out of my own flat! You’re the intruder here!” Hermione began to protest again.

Just as she was about to launch into another tirade Harry slammed the door in her face before locking it and putting the chain on. He wasn’t risking that again.

He shook his head slightly before turning to the television he had been distracted from to see a necklace matching the watch and bracelet flash up on the screen for just £50.95 (plus postage and packing).

Harry flopped back down in front of the television and grabbed the beer that he had so carelessly cast aside in his extremely strange encounter and drank the last of the dregs in the bottom of the bottle. Shaking it slightly, (just in case he always said) he tossed the empty bottle onto the overflowing bin and walked into the kitchen to grab another chilled bottle from the fridge. Flipping the cap off with the bottle opener on the counter top Harry made his way back to the couch paying very little attention to where he was going until he walked right into a very firm object in his path that he was sure shouldn’t have been there. He had been very careful to make the perfect and most efficient path to and from the fridge to the couch.

Looking down at what had gotten in his way the very manly roar of surprise (also known as the girlish scream of terror) almost escaped him once again.

“Hermione what the hell?!” he almost yelled

“Don’t ‘what the hell’ me Harry!” she countered “You can’t throw me out of my own flat!”

“Alright that does it!” Harry once again took hold of her arm and began to lead her to the door again. Frowning slightly as he saw it in the exact state he had left it, chain done and lock locked he opened it all up and took Hermione with him over the hall to his neighbour’s door. Knocking firmly Harry glanced at Hermione who looked rather pleased with herself “Mrs Figg loves me. I take care of her cat when she’s away” she said in answer to Harry’s questioning look.

“Uh huh” he said disbelievingly “We’ll see.” At that moment a very hassled looking Mrs Figg wrenched the door open and glared at Harry.

“What do you want?” she said angrily, she and Harry had never had the best relationship in the world… he probably should have thought of that before knocking on her door.

“Mrs Figg, have you seen this woman breaking into my flat?” he asked gesturing to Hermione beside him.

“What are you talking about?!” she said getting even angrier, if that was possible.

“This woman. She got into my flat twice now and I wanted to know if you’ve seen her breaking in.”

“Potter-“

“Mrs Figg please, this is very important. I need to know how she’s getting in. There’s no way she could have got in through the window- there’s not a chance she’d have been able to run downstairs and get all the way back up the fire escape and through my window in the time since I threw her out and saw her again but my door was still as I left it after I threw her out so either she’s very thorough or she knows another way in which case I need to know beca-” Harry was stopped short with a sharp slap.

“There’s no one there you lunatic!” Mrs Figg raved

“What?” Harry looked to his side where Hermione was standing where she would clearly be visible to his angry neighbour. “She’s right there.”

“Don’t be an idiot. There’s no one there! Now get lost I’m watching Judge Judy!” a split second later the door was slammed in their faces leaving them both a confused.

“Why would she say she couldn’t see me?” Hermione wondered aloud mirroring Harry’s thoughts, so immersed in his thoughts he strode back into his flat leaving Hermione standing outside Mrs Figg’s door looking extremely lost and a little hurt.

*~*~*

Story Title: Imaginary Friend

Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Word count for this installment: 1,402
Running Total no. of words for entire story: 2,845

Summary: Harry thinks he’s loosing his mind. He has an imaginary friend but is she as imaginary as he thinks? Response to a challenge by reptilia28 on the forum side. VERY AU!

A/N: This is my first challenge response in a very long time so please be gentle.

*~*~*

Harry had once again locked his door and he was absolutely determined that the compact devil also known as Hermione Grander… Grunger… whatever… would not be getting back into his flat this time. He had ever so skilfully slipped away from her in the corridor; he had not forgotten she was there at all. That was simply a ploy to fool whoever it was that was watching into thinking that he was forgetful whilst he quite clearly was not. Despite the whole lost remote thing.

He glanced briefly at the TV and shook his head to rid the appealing images of yet another once-in-a-lifetime-stupid-to-pass-up deal and instead walked purposefully to each of the windows in his small flat looking for any sign of Hermione’s forced entry.

Window after window he inspected and window after window he found no sign of anything that would show how she got back into the flat. Frustrated Harry stood in the middle of his living room and his eyes fell on the small cat flap he had nailed down a week after he had moved in. Mrs Figgs cats could be terribly persuasive when they wanted the tuna he had prepared for his sandwich. He still had the scars from where they had mistaken his leg for a scratching post.

Harry looked once again around the room in which he was standing as though looking for someone, namely Hermione, to see his ridiculous hunch played out and when he saw no one he took a step closer to the small opening in the door. He half expected a laugh to ring out when he made a move towards the door and so when no such giggle reached his ears Harry strode towards the flap confidently and knelt down in front of it.

He frowned slightly when he saw the nails all still in place but there had to be some way that Hermione was getting in. And she was awfully small… He poked a finger out and prodded the flap half expecting it to open up into a much larger entrance but it didn’t even shake.

Slumping in defeat Harry accepted that there was just no way Hermione could be getting into his flat. Not again anyway... unless she was some sort of witch which was of course impossible. Unless she was in those Neville Longbottom novels JK Rowling had made a mint off! Harry laughed at his own idiotic notion and stood from his position on the floor before he noticed just how much he needed to hoover and surveyed the room. He sighed noticing just how much of a mess it was, beer bottles were strewn all over the place, pizza boxes, plates, cups, dishes and take away trays were littering the floor and what Harry was sure used to be a coffee table and decided that he really should clean the place up… later.

He set the water running as he stripped his clothes in the usual thoughtless manner, his trousers falling wherever he was at the time and his battered t-shirt flew across the room and hung on the handle of the closed door. Left in only his boxers Harry glanced at his reflection in the mirror and took the time to notice the rather pronounced beer gut that had snuck up on him whilst he wasn’t looking. Really, who knew copious amounts of beer meant a beer gut of all things would form? Shaking his head he removed his boxers and finally stepped into the warm stream of water falling from the shower head and let the gentle heat and water wash away the memories and stress of his rather eventful evening.

Grabbing the nearest bottle of shampoo he squeezed a handful of the questionably manly smelling substance. He thought with a grimace that beer and cigarettes would be manly than what he swore was lavender with a fancy manly name- Power Boost. Yeah. Right.

Stepping back into the stream of water to wash away the fancy lavender, sorry Power Boost shampoo he closed his eyes and quite to his surprise an image of the tiny shrill woman that had somehow gotten into his flat (twice) flew into his eye line. Figuratively speaking of course, he was almost sure she couldn’t fly… though that would explain how she managed to get up and into his flat the second time so quickly… It was a thought at least.

He moved out of the shower spray and opened his eyes once again and, to his complete horror he was met with the wide hazel eyes of the said tiny flying shrill woman. His throat made yet another manly roar of surprise (also known as the little girl scream of terror) much to his own disgust before he managed to control himself.

“Hermione!” He gasped quickly turning off the shower and grabbing whatever it was that was nearest to scrape back just a little bit of his dignity. It just so happened that it was a tiny face wash cloth which barely covered anything (what a boost to his male ego!). No matter, he was more concerned with just how Hermione kept getting into his flat and how exactly did she end up in the shower with him! Though under normal circumstances he wouldn’t object to a pretty woman sharing his shower (yes, the tiny flying shrill opposite-of-Houdini flying woman was pretty! Come on, he’s only human!) but these weren’t normal circumstances, not in the slightest.

“Harry!” Hermione squeaked clearly not expecting to see him there “What am I doing in here?!”

“How the heck should I know? You’re the one that popped up from no where.” Oh my, what a bad choice of words…

“Alright look, get dressed I think we need to talk.” Hermione stated reasonably.

“You need to get out of my shower is what you need to do!” he begged his voice to drop down several octaves though it seemed that he would forever be matching Hermione in the highest voice stakes.

Harry blinked the water that was falling from his sodden hair line out of his eyes and, in what he was positive was a split second, Hermione had disappeared from his shower and out of the room. Quite how she managed that he had no idea, maybe she wasn’t the complete opposite of Houdini after all.

Drying himself off in record speeds Harry dressed himself in the clothes that he had discarded before the whole fiasco had begun and hurried to the living room where he expected Hermione to be sitting waiting.

She wasn’t there.

Sighing he called her name in an attempt to get an idea of where she was in the flat but no answer came, not so much as a tiny squeak. Frowning he wondered around his flat and looked into every room in search of his little intruder but there wasn’t a single sign of her. Nothing at all.

It was at this point that Harry began to get a little nervous. Maybe Hermione wasn’t a tiny flying shrill opposite-of-Houdini flying intruder woman, maybe she was a ghost. As soon as the thought entered his mind he laughed at the ridiculous notion. A ghost? Next he’d be saying giants existed!

Again, it didn’t really matter who or what she was. He cringed at the thought; he could just imagine the sharp slap he would receive if she knew he was thinking about her as a “what”… No matter she had gotten into his flat three times with absolutely no signs of how (or why) she did it. That would certainly be one argument on the side of the “Hermione-is-a-ghost” idea. Though it could also be one argument on the side of the “Harry-is-a-lunatic-and-is-slowly-loosing-his-mind” idea that had just cropped up in his head.

Harry plopped himself down on the sofa after determining that Hermione was no longer in the flat and stared blankly at the television that had been turned off- Hermione’s doing no doubt he thought with a sigh. Glancing down at the mess previously known as a coffee table a broad grin spread across his face. There, sitting atop the mess was the remote in all its glory.

Grabbing it in triumph he turned the television on and changed from the home shopping channel to a much more entertaining show- Big Brother. “I’m not watching that drivel” he muttered to himself while shaking his head, he switched back to QVC. Maybe having a ghost wouldn’t be so bad he thought with a slow smile, not that she was a ghost of course.

*~*~*

Story Title: Imaginary Friend

Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Word count for this installment: 2,107
Running Total no. of words for entire story: 5,113

Summary: Harry thinks he’s loosing his mind. He has an imaginary friend but is she as imaginary as he thinks? Response to a challenge by reptilia28 on the forum side. VERY AU!

A/N: This is my first challenge response in a very long time so please be gentle.

*~*~*

A crash in his flat snapped Harry out of the light doze that the television had lulled him into and put him on his version of ‘high alert’. He was awake, that was a start.

“Hermione?” He called in the general direction of the crash.

A quiet sigh and a tiny “Yeah.” told him all he needed to know. Standing and making his way to his bedroom he saw her sprawled over the floor, her feet tangled in the comforter that had fallen from his bed about a week ago.

“Do you never clean?” she asked with a huff as she extracted herself from the blanket that she looked at as though it had personally insulted her.

“No need- I only sleep in here, most of the time my eyes are closed so I don’t see the mess.” he replied calmly.

“Well that’s just disgusting and lazy.” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I’m not the one that keeps appearing in someone else’s flat.”

“For the last time this is my flat!”

“For the last time no it isn’t.”

“Yes it is!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Too.”

“Not.”

“How old are you?” Hermione asked finally breaking the cycle that had the potential to go on for a very long time. Harry was rather stubborn. Despite himself he smiled and sat on his bed patting the space next to him in invitation. Hermione sighed and sat next to him staring at the opposite wall.

Looking to his right to where Hermione was seated he couldn’t help but look at her out of the corner of his eye. Time to test the Hermione-is-a-ghost theory he thought. He looked at her fully now and noted how solid she looked. He was positive he couldn’t see through her though that didn’t stop him staring right at the side of her head and straining his eyes to see if he could see the cabinet that he knew was there. Nope, he couldn’t see through her. Strike one against the ghost theory. He didn’t notice her moving to look at him questionably as he raked his eyes down from her head and over her body. He was just being thorough and was most certainly not checking her out he thought resolutely. That would just be weird.

Alright so he couldn’t see through her, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to walk through her though- if she was a ghost. He was sure you should be able to walk through ghosts… rather than going through the trouble of asking her to stand up he thought prodding her shoulder would work just as well. If he was able to walk through her surely he’d be able to put his hand through her. He began to poke her.

He poked her shoulder causing her to move back with him, he was sure he didn’t go through her. He poked her again a little harder just to be sure. She apparently decided that she didn’t like him poking her and she shoved him back with quite a bit of force. Strike two against the ghost theory. Ghosts can’t shove.

He poked her again even harder and she shoved him back harder than before. He poked her again harder and contrary to what he believed was coming, that would be a sturdy shove, he felt a sharp slap across the side of his face.

“What was that for?!” he asked rubbing his cheek. Strike three; ghosts certainly shouldn’t be able to slap that well!

“For poking me!” she replied indignantly.

“I was seeing if you were solid!”

“What the heck are you talking about? Of course I am you dolt! How can I not be?”

“Well I thought you might… you know… be a ghost.” he said, saying it out loud made it sound even more stupid than it did in his head.

“You’re an idiot.”

*~*~*

After several hours of trying to trick Hermione into leaving which included such moments as “Hey Hermione, did you hear the door?” and his not so tactful idea of trying to seduce her in an attempt to disgust her into leaving. Unfortunately for him not only did it fail to do anything it also served quite the blow to his ego. Hermione was not fazed at all; she didn’t even have the good grace to pretend that she was considering him! He was sure there was some rule in the unwritten book of ‘Do’s and don’ts of being seduced’ that the seducee should not shoot the seducer down in very painful flames no matter the reason for the seducing.

“I’m going to sleep.” Hermione announced finally at around 2am.

“Oh good. Good ni- what are you doing!?” Harry exclaimed as he watched Hermione crawl up his bed and settle herself on the pillows.

“Going to sleep.” she said as she closed her eyes.

“Well go sleep somewhere else!”

“Why should I? This is my bed! You sleep somewhere else!” She argued in that stubborn way that made sure Harry knew he wasn’t winning this argument.

“Oh for the love of God are we still going on about that? This is my bed!”

“No it isn’t now you can sleep on my couch and I think I’m being rather reasonable.”

“I think you’re being anything but reasonable! You come into my flat, pretend it’s yours and now you take over my bed!?”

“Fine! We’ll both sleep here then.” she said shifting over to one side of the bed.

“What?”

“We’ll both sleep here.” she repeated slowly as if explaining quantum physics to a small child.

“What?” he squeaked again.

“Oh don’t be such a baby! Either we both sleep here or you get the cold uncomfortable ouch, your choice. Oh and by the way if you do take the couch that’ll mean that you accept that this is my home and you have to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Fine! I’ll sleep right here, in my bed.” he strode purposefully to the side of the bed that Hermione wasn’t currently sprawled on and flopped down.

“Be careful! It’s not a bouncy castle you know!” Hermione scolded, her eyes closed.

“It’s my bed, I can do whatever I like.” he replied sounding very much like a moody teenager who had just been told he couldn’t get a nose ring.

“It’s my bed and no you can’t. Now shut up so I can get some sleep.”

It pained Harry to do as he was told but as he couldn’t think of a decent retort he sighed and resigned himself to sharing a bed with Hermione and closed his eyes. He hoped that when he opened them again this would all be a terribly realistic and extremely strange dream.

Somehow he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

*~*~*

Harry woke early, or late he wasn’t too sure, the next morning and delayed opening his eyes for as long as he could. Willing himself to be a man he dragged one eye open and looked to the side of the bed that Hermione had occupied last night. It was gloriously empty.

“Oh thank God for that!” he exclaimed sitting up in victory. His joy was short-lived for as soon as he sat he saw the star of his “dream” sitting in a chair that he had forgotten was even in the room. A pile of laundry cluttered the floor next to the chair so he reasoned that it was likely hidden under the mass of clothes.

Apparently his exclamation of joy had been the wrong thing to say with Hermione in the room, evidenced by the death glare that he was currently on the receiving end of. Heaven help the poor soul that had to put up with her for the rest of their life!

“Not a dream then.” he muttered raking a hand though his already messy hair.

“No, not a dream. You do realise it’s almost midday right?” Late then he thought “Do you normally sleep this late? Do you know how bad that is for you? Don’t you have anywhere to be? Don’t you have a girlfriend to get to?”

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t give a lecture as soon as I wake up?” Harry retorted grumpily slumping back down onto the bed.

“Not a morning person I see.”

“No.”

“Your girlfriend must love that.” she said sarcastically.

“Don’t have one.” he mumbled almost silently into the duvet that he had pulled over his head.

“What a shock.” She had superhuman hearing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said picking up on the subtle hints that she was throwing at him.

“I’m not surprised you haven’t got a girlfriend, no one would want to come back to this dump.”

“Last night this was your flat.”

“It still is, it’s just messy because someone is a pig.”

“Well how did that someone have the time to make it a dump if someone else lived here?”

Hermione opened her mouth to throw out another witty remark he was sure when she stopped and looked a little confused. Hah! That had her!

“I don’t know.” she said finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Harry frowned and disengaged himself from the mess of covers on the bed to make his way to the chair where Hermione was sitting quietly. He was almost sure she was crying, the slight tremble in her shoulders told him as much.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked with concern shocking himself.

“I’ve been thinking.” she said shakily “I don’t know how I keep getting here. Last night you threw me out over and over again but somehow I just reappeared right in front of you. I mean I got into the shower with you! How on earth did that happen?! And now I think about it, this… this mess isn’t one that can just appear in a matter of hours. This mess has been around for months yet if I live here like I know I do how did it happen?”

“I don’t know.” he replied honestly. He had no idea why he hated seeing her cry but he wanted it to stop. It was just a matter of finding that off switch…

“Neither do I and it’s scaring me. Maybe what you said last night is right.” she said tightly.

He was at a loss; he’d said a lot of things- calling her a tiny shrill opposite-of-Houdini flying woman was what stood out the most though he was pretty sure he didn’t say that to her face. He was sure he would still have the mark from the extra-hard slap he would have received. “What did I say?” he asked instead, taking the safest route was probably the best idea in this situation, he wanted her to stop crying but he didn’t want her to turn into a rabid pitbull. And you know how women can be with their mood swings.

“Maybe I’m a ghost” she whispered sniffling “Maybe I’m dead.”

“Hermione, ghosts can’t slap the way you did. I can still feel that you know!” he said trying to get at least a small smile from her. Success! A slight curve of her lips gave him a rather strange feeling in the pit of his stomach but he chose to ignore it and continue the plan to stop her crying.

“Listen to me Hermione. That was stupid. Ghosts don’t exist and you quite clearly do. Unless I’m imagining all of this but then if I was we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you wouldn’t be crying because I don’t deal with crying women well so I wouldn’t imagine it… did that make sense?”

“No.” she laughed this time wiping the stray tears from her eyes. He congratulated himself on a job well done.

“Didn’t think so, but do you get the idea? You’re here. I don’t know how you’re here, I don’t know why you’re here but you are. You’re not a ghost and you’re definitely not dead.”

She nodded silently and Harry wondered why it was so important that he stop her crying. He also wondered how he had actually managed to stop her crying but he decided that it didn’t matter much. So long as she wasn’t doing that hosepipe thing women were so fond of then it was all good in his eyes.

“Right, I’m going to go and shower- try not to come in this time alright?” he grinned standing from his position on the floor.

“I’ll try to contain myself” she grinned as he grabbed some clothes from the pile next to her chair. He was almost sure they were clean.

*~*~*

A/N: I forgot to mention in the other chapters but please review and let me know what you think. This is my first fic in a very long time so I’m a little nervous about posting it… Thanks!

~ Bec AKA Harry/Hermione 4eva

Story Title: Imaginary Friend

Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Word count for this installment: 1,856
Running Total no. of words for entire story: 6,807

Summary: Harry thinks he’s loosing his mind. He has an imaginary friend but is she as imaginary as he thinks? Response to a challenge by reptilia28 on the forum side. VERY AU!

A/N: This is my first challenge response in a very long time so please be gentle.

*~*~*

A/N2: Thank you all for you lovely reviews. I’m so glad you like it!

RupertsGirl112289: Yes, it’s based slightly on the movie ‘Just like Heaven’ but just my version. The challenge isn’t based on it. Thanks for the fantastic review. :D

For yema_potter the rules for the challenge are here. Thank you for the great reviews too.

STORYLINE:
*In an AU where there's no magic, Harry is a thirty-something guy with a dead-end job and no girlfriend.
*One day, he finds a woman (Hermione) in his apartment. He shoves her out, only to see her reappear a few minutes later.
*He drags her by the arm to his next-door neighbour, an elderly woman, and asks if she saw Hermione go into his place. The old lady slaps him and says there's no one there before slamming the door in his face. Shocked, he goes back to his apartment, leaving Hermione behind.
*Later that day, Harry takes a shower to calm himself down, but turns around to see Hermione in the shower with him, and panic’s.
*After several vain attempts to get her to leave, Harry is resigned to keeping her, but she insists on sharing a bed with him, something he's not altogether comfortable with.
*Over the next few days, Harry finds out that he's the only one who can see Hermione, and so it looks like he's conversing with thin air.
*Noticing his lack of a love life, Hermione tries to hook Harry up with various blind dates. None of them work out so well.
*Over time, Harry eventually gets used to Hermione's presence, and even begins to fall for her.
*In the end, Hermione says that she needs to leave. A saddened Harry says his goodbyes, and she walks out the door. He goes out to go after her, but she's gone.
*Some time later (days, weeks, months), Harry is brooding somewhere (in the street, in a diner, etc.), when he sees a woman who seems familiar. He walks up to her, and is shocked to see that it's Hermione! He introduces himself, and they strike up a conversation.
----

REQUIREMENTS:
*NO ONE except Harry can see or hear Hermione.
*Even though she can't be seen by anyone except him, to Harry, Hermione is solid (so she can pick things up, eat his food, etc.)
*Harry's friends and co-workers start to think that Harry's a bit off his rocker as he continues to bicker with Hermione.
*Have fun.
----

OPTIONAL:
*A scene where Harry tests to see if Hermione is solid. He prods her on the shoulder, she shoves him back. He prods harder, she shoves harder. He prods her again, she slaps him.
*Related to above: "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" - Harry. "FOR POKING ME!" - Hermione.
*Harry has a diary, which Hermione gets a hold of, and starts reading embarrassing passages, including an incident when he was in elementary school when he had a "date" with a girl for all of 30 minutes or less.
*When Hermione tries to set up Harry with his boss's daughter, he protests.
"What's the worst that could happen?"
"Umm, let's see, I could lose my job, my dignity..."
[under breath] "Put your virginity in there somewhere, and we'll be making progress."
*Harry gets arrested overnight for reckless driving when Hermione tries to side seat drive. She follows him to prison, complete with the orange scrubs (or whatever colour prisoners wear in England).

----

Alrighty, here goes chapter 4! Please remember to review.

*~*~*

An hour later and Harry had decided that he would take Hermione out for breakfast, a strange thing to do for someone that had repeatedly broken into your home but that didn’t matter. As they walked into the small café around the corner from his flat Harry led her to a small two-seater table and placed a menu in front of her whilst he looked over his own. Deciding on his old faithful the sausage sandwich he looked up at Hermione who was mulling over the choices. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty she really was when she wasn’t yelling or screaming at him. Her hair though seemingly unruly added a certain amount of charm to her while her frame was small and slim though not overly so. He watched as she brushed a stray piece of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear and he found himself smiling just a little.

She looked up and he instantly shifted his gaze just to the left of her in a clever ploy to pretend that he wasn’t watching her intently. He had no idea that that certain ploy never ever worked.

“I’ll have a sausage sandwich” she said finally “loads of brown sauce too.”

“Ah, my kind of girl!” he said with a grin before he stood and made his way to the counter to place the order.

Waiting in line he looked back at Hermione sitting in the corner of the room and smiled once again, it was becoming a nasty habit he noticed snapping himself out of his staring match instead focusing his attention on a blonde haired woman behind the counter who was looking at him expectantly. Apparently the staff in this café were rather efficient.

“Oh sorry!” he apologised “In a world of my own.” The woman chuckled, purely to humour him he was sure, and began tapping her pen on the pad in front of her impatiently.

“I’ll have two sausage sandwiches please, loads of brown sauce on both.” he said with a grin which he quickly chided himself for.

“Two?” the woman repeated looking slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, two. One for me and one for her.” he gestured back to the table that Hermione was sitting patiently at.

“Who?” the woman asked clearly confused.

“My friend… she’s sitting right there!”

“Oh. Right. Your friend.” She glanced back at her workmate in the kitchen motioning to Harry with her eyes. “Two sausage sandwiches coming right up. Would you like two plates?”

“Yes.” Harry replied slowly. Why in the world was this woman being so odd? He made a mental note to not return here, the staff were undoubtedly insane.

“Okay, I’ll bring them right over to you and your friend.”

“Thank you.” He made his way back to the table deciding against asking for tea. The sooner they were out of this place the better he thought.

“Oi Seamus! We have a right nut job in the corner. I swear he has an imaginary friend.” he heard the woman yell to the friend she had not so subtly glanced at whilst serving Harry.

Rolling his eyes he ignored the questionable blonde woman and took his seat opposite Hermione once again.

“The staff here are crazy.” he whispered glancing over to the man and woman talking very quickly looking every now and again directly at Harry before looking back at one another and shaking their heads before beginning to speak at super-human speeds again.

“They do look a little strange…” Hermione nodded in agreement. Well, there’s a first time for everything Harry thought as she agreed.

Eventually their food was bought over by the man behind the counter, Seamus Harry remembered.

As he retreated after putting Hermione’s food in completely the wrong place and not even apologising to her for it Harry heard him shout to the blonde woman “You’re right you know Lav! Completely barkin’!”

“How about we eat up and get out of here?” Hermione suggested quietly. Harry was only too pleased to agree and so once they had eaten the sandwiches with no where near enough brown sauce on Harry paid the bill and ushered Hermione out.

*~*~*

“So,” Hermione said suddenly as they stood in the lift waiting for it to take them up to the eighth floor of the block of flats. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Harry, a little taken aback by the sudden broach to the subject spluttered, showering his Starbucks Latte all over the woman that he knew as 39C standing in front of him. Thankfully the thick coat she had on meant she didn’t feel a thing and therefore Harry didn’t receive a slap. He had been getting far too many of those lately.

“What do you mean?!” he asked in a voice reminiscent of the tone he produced when Hermione had appeared in his shower.

39C turned quickly and frowned a little though Harry was too focused upon Hermione to care too much.

“You know what I mean, why don’t you have one? Are you a loner? Male spinster? Do you have several cats I’m yet to meet? Oooh! Are you gay?”

“I am not gay!” He exclaimed deciding to get that question out of her mind instantly. At this point the lift paused in its climb to the eighth floor and 39C stepped out before the doors had even opened all the way. Harry was sure he heard a loud “Freak!” being yelled his way but he, as usual, ignored it and continued to defend his sexuality to Hermione.

“I am most certainly not gay. I’m not a loner… technically. I have friends. My best mate is meant to be coming later actually. You can meet him.”

“Best mate or best mate?” She asked clearly enjoying all of the indignant spluttering that Harry was doing.

“Best mate. As in friend, a purely heterosexual entirely straight normal male friendship where we talk about beer and sports and,” he paused for a second strangely uncomfortable telling Hermione the next thing. Her smug grin however spurred him to exaggerate the next word “women!”

“Right, well I’ll see. What time is he going to get here?”

Harry glanced at his watch; it wasn’t going to be long now surely. “About an hour” he replied as the doors to the lift opened and a pair of elderly women he knew as ‘Crazy 1’ and ‘Crazy 2’. They were both constantly talking to themselves, it was really rather unsettling when stuck in a lift with them both babbling away to absolutely no one. He was positive they weren’t talking to one another; they were always looking in opposite directions and having completely different conversations. He remembered one particularly disturbing moment a month ago, Crazy 2 was having a conversation with the wall about how hard Menopause was for her.

He still had flashbacks.

Crazy 1 and 2 were thankfully quiet today and so he continued his conversation with Hermione “You better not freak him out Hermione” he warned “I’ve had a hard enough time with him thinking my ability to meet women is lacking.”

“Well is it?”

“No it is not! I just… I like how I am now.”

“Spending your time watching QVC and screaming like a girl?”

“Yes, spending time watching QVC and roaring in a very manly way.” he said correcting her mistake.

Finally the lift doors opened on the eighth floor and he moved in between Crazy 1 and 2. Just as he thought he was free from them however Crazy 1 grabbed his arm and looked at him sharply, her eye twitched and her wrinkled face moved well into the his comfort zone which, in the case of the Crazies, was around 3 miles. “Stop talking to no one man! They will come and get you. Pretend she’s not there until you’re alone. Trust me.”

Harry nodded numbly unable to do anything else out of sheer shock and allowed the lift doors to slide shut just as Crazy 1 and 2 both let the crazy out muttering about “another one they’ll say is insane.”

*~*~*

A knock at the door and hour and a half signalled Harry’s entirely heterosexual albeit usually late best mates arrival.

“Remember what I said Hermione, don’t be insane.”

“Yeah, I’m the insane one.” she replied sarcastically staring at the blank TV.

“It works better if you turn it on.” he said as he opened the door to his red headed best friend.

“What works better if you turn it on?” his friend asked walking into the flat with no hesitation.

“The TV.” Harry replied offhandedly

“Uh well then yeah, it usually does. Crazy greeting though don’t you think man?”

“What? I was talking to her. Speaking of crazy, this is Hermione.” Hermione glared at Harry as she stood from the couch.

“Who is Hermione?” the redhead asked looking around the flat.

“She is.”

“Who is?”

“She is!”

“Who is?!”

“Ron don’t be an idiot, I’m trying to introduce you here.” Harry said exasperated.

“I’d love to be introduced to this Hermione person but there’s no one here but you and me… and maybe an organism living in this mess. Seriously, when was the last time you attempted to clean in here?”

“What’s the point? It’s just gonna get dirty again.”

“That is not an excuse Harry!” Hermione inserted “You should clean.”

“Don’t gang up on me!” He said diverting his attention to Hermione.

“Gang up on you? There’s only me here!” Ron said staring at Harry as though he had something gross that would of course fascinate half of the male species growing on his head.

“No, there’s you and Hermione who by the way has been driving me nuts since she broke into here yesterday. Three times!”

“Let’s not start that again.” Hermione sighed plopping herself back down on the couch looking as defeated as she did when Mrs Figg refused to acknowledge her. Harry frowned and looked back at Ron.

“Ron, stop this now just say hello to her or something. You can see what it’s doing to her” he said quietly making sure Hermione didn’t hear him.

“There’s no one there Harry! You’re loosing your mind!” he said far too loudly.

“I don’t think he can see me Harry.” Hermione said staring at the TV again.

“Yes he can he’s just being an idiot.” He tried to reassure her whilst glaring at Ron.

“Okay you’re starting to freak me out now. Who are you talking to?”

“Hermione! She’s sitting on the couch. Right there!” he pointed to Hermione and Ron turned to look where he was pointing he then looked back at Harry and motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table.

“Harry look, I’m saying this as your best friend, this comes from a good place I promise you but you’re freaking insane man! The only people in this flat are you, questionably, and me. There’s no woman here. I think I need to set you up again. I know my sister wants to give you two a shot again, she was gutted when you-”

“No way! No offence or anything but she was insane.”

“Perfect match then.” Ron muttered.

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There you have chapter four. I hope you liked it and please remember to review.

~Bec AKA Harry/Hermione 4eva