Author's Notes: That's a lot of reviews, dudes… Wow… THANK YOU!
Here's Harry and Hermione's car. Just pretend it's really safe (safety charms, spells, etc. come to good use) and black. If you're on Fanfiction.net and can't see the link, go on Portkey and click the link. (I have the same Penname.)
digiads.com.au/car-news/latest-SATURN-news/2007_Saturn_Aura_Green_Line_Hybrid_200611/photos_0.html
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August 15th, 2001 …
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Harry groaned, bringing his head up and working out the cricks in his neck. He looked at Hermione's lap, and saw that Andrew was happily emerged in playing with his feet, and picked him up. Hermione stirred a bit, but didn't wake up. Checking his watch, he saw that it had been four hours since the plane had taken off, and that they had about four more hours until the flight would be over.
Looking over Hermione's shoulder, he saw that they had probably just left the United States, and were now flying towards Greenland, and then landing in London. Sighing, Harry sat back on his seat, knowing that it was better than trying to pinpoint their current location in the sky.
Taking Andrew's thumb from his mouth, earning a small `pop' from Andrew's mouth, Harry stood up. While he navigated his way to the restroom, Harry found himself face to face with the older couple he'd seen while waiting for their flight.
The man looked to be about fifty-seven, give or take a few years, with greying hair and fierce blue eyes. He was tall for his age (at least he seemed tall to Harry's small frame), and his build was large-not in muscle, but in fat, most likely, thought Harry. He wondered where his wife was, and then saw her emerge from the small restroom seconds later. She, too, had grey hair with a tall and sturdy build, and she looked at Harry disapprovingly before letting him enter.
They scare me, thought Harry. Placing his son on the floor, letting him stand and stare in awe at the silver walls, Harry took care of his aching bladder. Flushing the toilet made Andrew scared, since the sound was so loud, he fell and started crying. Quickly picking him up, Harry rocked him and patted his back. After a few minutes, he calmed down and Harry quickly washed his hands before making his way towards his sleeping wife once more.
Setting Andrew on his lap, Harry looked out of the window. Andrew attempted to stand up, using his father's shirt as support, and giggled when his head came in contact with Harry's slight stubble beard. Harry chucked, deliberately rubbing (softly, of course) his rough hair against Andrew's soft cheek. Still giggling, his son reached for his rectangular spectacles.
Harry shook his head and placed Andrew on his lap, patting his stomach in the hopes that he'd fall asleep again. He crossed his leg so his left ankle was resting on his right knee, ensuring that Andrew wouldn't be able to roll away. Patting the boy to sleep (who was currently babbling nonsense, though Harry could make out a few words like "Papa"), Harry thought back to the Weasleys.
When he and Hermione left for Australia, they hadn't intended on leaving for longer than necessary. That was the reason they hadn't told the Weasleys in the first place. After finding Mister and Missus Granger, their relationship budding into a promising romance, moving to America, they just couldn't find time writing to the Weasleys. And though he was ashamed to admit it, Harry liked the idea of leaving everyone out. It was as if it were a secret, something only he and Hermione could share.
They'd received numerous letters from the Weasleys, and they'd even read all, too. The ones from Ginny were mostly about her family life, and how she missed Harry "dearly," and that she knew it was the post-war trauma that he was going through, and she knew that he'd come around one day. Her letters to Hermione were nearly almost all about Harry. She usually constantly asked if she knew where he was, and if she did, why she knew. Though most of her letters weren't hostile, she would usually irk off Hermione by asking how to snag Harry and get him "where he belongs."
Ron, on the other hand, had barely sent the amounts Ginny had. He'd asked Harry and Hermione where they were (in different letters, respectively), and then go on telling them about the various Cannons games, how the Weasleys were doing, and how the Wizarding World was doing in general. He'd asked if he and Hermione were dating (which, Hermione would state with a firm, "No," and proceeded to snog Harry senseless), if she was doing alright, how the media was treating him as if he were king, and how Ginny and Harry's relationship was "going strong."
They'd never responded any letters. They only indication that showed they were still alive, were that the letters were open and the owls were fully refreshed by the time they arrived back to England.
But, even after six months, the letters had stopped.
Harry sighed and looked down; Andrew had fallen asleep with is thumb in his mouth. Gently taking his thumb out, Harry resumed his soothing, soft patting on his son's small, soft stomach. He looked around, noticing that half of the passengers were either on their Muggle laptops, or were drinking champagne. Harry rolled his eyes, what was the point of getting sloshed on a plane, anyway?
He looked at his wedding band, the shining silver gleaming in the light. He smiled fondly, remembering when he and Hermione had to go shopping for their wedding bands.
Harry and Hermione were currently in an expensive jewellery store, looking for wedding bands. It seemed as though they were the youngest couple there, but the two didn't mind.
Hermione saw a beautiful silver band for the groom and a thin silver band with diamonds in it for the wife. Smiling, she tugged on Harry's sleeve.
"Look, Harry," said Hermione, pointing at the bands.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Those?" he asked. She nodded. "They're… erm… nice, I guess."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think they're beautiful!" she exclaimed.
Harry rolled his eyes playfully, wondering what was so beautiful about a piece of metal in the shape of a circle, but decided against voicing his question. He knew that Hermione would want something beautiful (like the engagement ring he'd gotten her, he internally gloated) and what Hermione wanted, Hermione got.
Nearly an hour later, after looking at countless rings, Harry saw the same rings. Forgetting which rings they were, he exclaimed, "Pretty!"
Hermione stood behind him, looking for the rings. Seeing that they were the same exact ones she'd picked an hour prior, she started laughing.
After ten minutes of figuring out Harry's ring size ("I have girly fingers?!" asked Harry, horrified, looking at his long, thin fingers. "No, they're just very thin… its how all men's fingers are these days," explained the jeweller, chuckling silently, sending a dramatic wink in Hermione's direction), they'd purchased the rings and went to their flat.
He grinned; the "pretty" ring nestled on his finger. By the time freshman year was nearly over, Harry and Hermione had made a few good, close friends, one of them being Matthew, the ever ambitious Biologist Major that played Volleyball ever since his sister spiked him with one when he was seven.
They were married in a beautiful garden ceremony, with a few close friends attending. They didn't want a big scene out of it, but they didn't want it to be exceedingly private, either. They were married a month before the semester ended, and they planned on making the most out of their short summer vacation. (Which, for Harry and Hermione, meant spending the first two months basically living in their now shared bedroom-previously Harry's bedroom.)
He and Hermione were extraordinarily happy with their current living arrangements and lifestyle, and they never expected to return back to England. While living in California, they could enjoy the sun (which gave them a healthy tan) and stay active while living near their University. But once they were informed of Hermione's parents failing health (the American Ministry had informed them one night, telling them that Missus Granger was hospitalized, Mister Granger following a few hours later), they thought it necessary.
Truth be told, Harry was quiet feared to return back to England. Was it any different? Would anyone treat the two differently? Did they even know they were still alive? The Weasleys, how were they? So many questioned plagued his mind, but he could never bring himself to answer any of them. He couldn't even write to his best mate, the same friend he stole his girlfriend from. The one he was now married to.
Now, four years later, he found himself sitting next to his sleeping wife, his sleeping son cuddling to his shirt, returning to England. He shook his head, his short hair barely moving. (When he was nineteen, Hermione decided that a haircut and buying some product would be a good birthday present. Harry thought it was wonderful, but then he saw that his hair was now a small faux-hawk. He'd protested for about two hours, finally agreeing once she told him what his "reward" would be.) He took off his glasses (the rectangular specks as a gift to himself. He wanted to rid everything that reminded him of England-even if it included getting wire-rimmed rectangular spectacles) and rubbed his eyes underneath, suddenly tired. Placing them back onto his nose, Harry made sure Andrew was secure, and he went back to sleep.
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"Well, the technology is a bit more advanced, and at least the flights aren't delayed," commented Hermione, walking through the airport, pushing Andrew in his plush black and red stroller. Carrying Andrew, even for them, got a bit tiring, but then Hermione enlarged his stroller while in the Women's restroom.
They were currently making their way outside, but it seemed as though Andrew was hungry, since he kept clutching onto his stomach and had his face buried in Hermione's chest. They made their way to the food court, hoping to feed Andrew in peace. Hermione took her son from his stroller and started feeding him, and a few minutes later-Andrew filled with fruits other food-they went back to their previous mission: get out of the airport.
Once they found themselves outside, Harry asked, "How are we going to get anywhere? We haven't a car."
She smiled, rummaging through her purse. "Don't worry about that, Harry. Our car is right," she plucked out a small, yet stylish, black car from her purse, "here!"
"That looks like our car, Hermione," Harry pointed out, plucking the small car from her fingers. "But this can't be anything but a mere toy."
She sighed. "This is our car, Harry!" she exclaimed, taking the car back. "I shrunk it before we went inside the airport in America."
He nodded in understanding, and said, "Oh." He smiled, giving her a peck. "Good job, then we won't have to spend anymore money on buying a new car here, in England," said Harry, chuckling.
She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you can be so cheap," she muttered, walking towards an alley.
"Hey," said Harry, keeping in step with her, "cars are not cheap! Our car cost a good thirty thousand dollars!"
She chuckled, patting his arm. "I know, Harry. I know." She turned and found a near by alley, and she placed the car down. Taking her wand out, she muttered something Harry couldn't hear, and the car slowly became its original size. Once doing everything necessary, Hermione made sure Andrew was secure, and that her belt was on right, Harry stepped into the driver's seat and left the alleyway.
"Now, which hotel do you want to stay in?" Harry asked while driving.
"I don't want to stay in a Wizarding hotel," she answered immediately, and Harry nodded. "Perhaps a nice hotel in London would be nice."
"Okay," he said, looking for hotels now. After a few minutes of searching, Harry found a large hotel by the Thames River. Driving in front of the hotel, Harry told his wife, "I'll be back in a moment, I just need to get our key," and left. Minutes later, Harry came back and started driving once more, looking for a parking spot.
"What's our room number?" asked Hermione, taking the small packet from the co-pilot's seat.
"Five hundred twenty-three," he answered. "I requested we have a suite, since we're going to be here for a short while."
"True," she murmured, looking at the pictures of the rooms.
Getting out of the car, Harry started getting their carryon bag and stroller, while Hermione took Andrew and her bags. Walking towards the luxurious hotel, Hermione absently laced her fingers through Harry's, offering him a soft smile.
Once getting into the lift, Harry and Hermione, with a giggling Andrew, proceeded to go to the fifth floor. After finding their designated room, they opened the door and walked in, marvelling at the sight. The room was nothing short of perfect. The living area was large, with a large television, plush settees and armchairs placed strategically around the television. Two rooms were on either side of the room; two bedrooms, Harry suspected. There was even a small refrigerator near the television.
Letting go of the carryon, Harry undid the belts to Andrew's stroller and let him down. Andrew instantly started wandering around, pausing to marvel at the television.
"He seems to have a knack for shiny things," Harry commented absently, remembering that Andrew stared at the aeroplane's shiny restroom walls.
Hermione nodded, chuckling. "That he does. Reminds me of his father," she teased, sending a wink in his direction.
He nudged her lightly with his elbow. "You know that I was just kidding when I saw our rings, right?" he asked.
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sure, Harry. Sure." Sobering, Hermione brought some of the luggage from her pocket, the others finding their way into her purse. (She found that sitting on shrunken luggage for eight-nearly nine-hours was not comfortable at all.) Unshrinking it, she made her way towards their room. Taking out a fresh pair of jeans and her old Volleyball jersey, she placed them on the bed. She then found Andrew's carryon and opened it; maybe she'd give him a bath later.
"Harry," Hermione called out, "do you think you could go in my purse and find Andrew's crib, and your carryon?"
"Sure!" A few minutes later, Harry came into the bedroom, a miniature crib in his hand, his black carryon dragging behind himself. "Here, love," said Harry, placing the crib by the wall. Taking his wand out, he enlarged the crib back to its original state.
"Thank you."
Nodding, Harry left the room once more, letting Hermione do whatever it was she was doing.
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Harry stared at the blank piece of computer paper before him, a pen in his hand. He wasn't able to find parchment and a quill, so he decided that this was the best substitute. Currently, he was attempting to write a letter to the Weasleys, but he hadn't the slightest idea what to write.
At first, they'd planned to visit Hermione's parents, but then she decided that taking a break for one day wouldn't do any harm. She was instantly jetlagged, and after taking a long, hot bath, she went to sleep. Andrew, too, was sleeping in his blue crib, cuddling his small stuffed bear.
Staring at the paper, he debated on whom he should address the letter to. Ron? Ginny? Missus Weasley? Mister Weasley?
Finally, Harry shook his head and started writing.
Dear Weasley family,
Hello, this is Harry Potter. (Let's just hope you remember me, eh? Heh) I know it's been a long time-just over four years-and that I haven't even owled you since, but I have a very good reason. Or, at least, I hope it's good…
Hopefully you'll reply, and I'll be able to visit the Burrow shortly. I know I have a lot to explain, and I bet you're wondering where Hermione is, too. Well, she's with me, here. Well… not here, here, but in the - Oh Bullocks, look at me, stammering on paper! I guess it really has been a long time.
I know the letter is short, but please, give us a chance to see you again,
Harry
Shrugging at the contents, thinking they were acceptable, folded it. Addressing the front of the paper to "The Weasleys," Harry then remembered that Hedwig had died four years ago. Sighing and putting his head in his hands, Harry wondered if there were various other ways to ensure that the letter was received by the Weasleys. He lost his Firebolt the same time he did Hedwig, so that was out of the question. There was always his invisibility cloak, but he didn't know the way to the Burrow.
"Perhaps… Perhaps I can take the Night Bus, take my invisibility cloak, deliver the letter, and leave without anyone knowing," Harry plotted to himself, wondering if his plan even had a chance of working. "But don't they have a mailing system for Wizards and Witches that don't have owls?" he argued with himself. "If so, where?" he questioned himself. He shook his head. "Perhaps I should just buy a new owl-or at least find a way to rent it…" he trailed off. What was the point in arguing with himself if he knew he was going to get a headache?
Leaving the matter to be handled later, Harry stood up and checked around the rooms. The second bedroom wasn't being used, and Andrew was sleeping in his and Hermione's room. Deciding that it'd be good to know where his in-laws were staying-or in this case, which hospital they were residing in.
Going to the centre table and picking up his cell phone, then remembered that he didn't have any service outside the country. Putting the phone back down, he went over to the hotel phone and dialled the operator. Quickly asking for the numbers of the hospitals in London (which, if he remembered correctly, there should've only been two), he jotted them down, thanking the operator, and hung up.
Hastily, he called the first Muggle hospital, which was Lambeth Community Care Centre. "Hello…? Yes, this is Harry Potter… No, I don't need to call an ambulance… Yes, I need to see if my in-laws are here… Yes, Granger…? No…?" He sighed, nodding. "Alright… No, thank you… Yeah, bye." Hanging up, he crossed the first number out. Well, there's only one other place they could be at, Harry thought, dialling the second number to the hospital, which was St Thomas' Hospital.
Seconds later, someone picked up. "Hello…? No, but I'd like to know if my in-laws, the Grangers, are here… Yes, they're Celine and Jeff Granger… Really? Oh, yes! Okay, yes! Yes, and can I have your address? Yes… Okay, thank you. Yes, goodbye…" Hanging up the phone, Harry put the piece of paper on the table.
Taking off his shirt and jeans, Harry made his way to his and Hermione's bed. Pulling the covers back, he quietly got into bed and snuggled close to Hermione. Happy that she didn't stir, Harry tenderly placed his head on the slope of her breast, his hand landing softly on her abdomen. Slowly, he fell into a peaceful sleep.
Hours later, when the wedded couple finally woke, they found that it was already well past midnight. Harry noticed that Andrew was still deep in sleep, and facing away from them. Grinning, Harry started kissing Hermione's neck.
Hermione emitted a low moan, her fingers enclosing Harry's neck and bringing him up so she could kiss his lips. The two kissed leisurely, tongues rubbing against each other, lips pressing and pulling, their hands slowly roaming.
Once they broke apart, Hermione asked softly, "What was that for?"
Harry smiled, kissing her cheek softly. "I haven't had a proper kiss," he whispered, trailing kisses along her jaw line and down her neck. "I've also been deprived of my daily triple shags," he added, grinning as he pulled Hermione's shirt up slightly, caressing the bare skin of her stomach. "And I intend on having my shags, Hermione."
She grinned, giving him a deep kiss. "And who am I to deprive you of anything, Mister Potter?" she quietly questioned, rubbing herself against her husband.
He grinned, taking her shirt off and pulling her-which were mine when I was a freshman, Harry vaguely noted-baggy sweatpants down.
And for hours during that night, Hermione and Harry ensured that they weren't being `deprived' of anything.
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The family of three made their way towards Mister and Missus Grangers room. After navigating their way through London, finally finding the hospital, Harry and Hermione had asked where they were. Once getting the number, they were now on the lift to see them.
Opening the door, they walked in, the Grangers the first thing they saw. The two of them were in hospital gowns, both looking worn, but happy as they saw their daughter, son-in-law, and grandson walk in. Wordlessly, the Potters made their way to the middle of the room.
"Hello Mum, Dad," Hermione greeted quietly, placing her hand atop her Mother's.
She smiled, giving her daughter's hand a squeeze. "Hey, Hermione," she greeted softly, taking in her daughter's appearance.
She hadn't changed much over the years. Her hair was in layers, and reached her shoulders. It wasn't bushy, nor was her hair in perfect ringlets, but in soft curls with the promising flyways here and there. She'd grown a few inches, and now seemed as if she were only a few inches shorter than Harry. Her thin figure, covered by a modest blue sleeveless shirt covered by a striped button up shirt that was rolled up to her elbows was accompanied by stylish jeans that had Missus Granger thinking all of the young ones wore these days.
"You look beautiful," she complimented, giving her a soft smile.
"Yes she does," said a soft voice from behind Hermione.
Turning around, Hermione finally saw her father. His hair was greying, but he wore a proud smile. "My baby girl, all grown up," said he softly. "She has a husband and a child, is there anything else I should know?" he questioned playfully, even in this state.
Hermione nodded, blushing. "Yes, Dad, there is something you two should know. I… What I mean to say is, Harry and I are having another child."
Hermione's Mother let out a soft sob, while her father chuckled. "What's wrong, Mum?" Hermione asked immediately, alarmed. Quickly, she went to her side, ready to run and call the nurses.
"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "I'm just happy for you, is all."
Hermione smiled, turning to her father.
Throughout the whole thing, Harry remained silent, kneeling beside Andrew's stroller and playing with him. Even after all of these years, he still felt slightly out of place while Hermione talked to her parents.
"Papa!" Andrew suddenly exclaimed, loud enough to bring Hermione and her parents from their tête-à-têtes.
Smiling sheepishly, Harry apologized. "Sorry," he said quickly, hoping he hadn't disturbed them.
"Oh Harry," said Missus Granger, extending her hands, "let me see my son and grandson."
Blushing slightly, Harry stood up and took Andrew out. Grinning when the small boy giggled a loud "Papa!" again, he handed him to his grandmother.
"Oh my," she cooed, playing with Andrew on her bed. "He's gotten so big!" she exclaimed, softly poking his squishy stomach. "The last time I've seen him was when he was just a newborn, and look at him now!" Suddenly, Missus Granger coughed, and on instinct, Harry scooped Andrew into his arms.
Hermione, looking alarmed once more, came to aid her mother. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? What can I do for you?" Turning to her father, she asked in rapid succession: "How about you, Dad? Do you want anything? I can just run and get a nurse, if you want. How about I just-" Quickly, her mother interrupted.
"No, it's alright," she said, patting her daughter's hand lovingly. "This has been happening a lot lately, and I'm afraid this is the most they can do right now. It's old age, dear."
"But you're not even that old, Mother!" she pointed out, her voice distressed.
"Hermione, dear, our health is failing," Mister Granger pointed out. "We're getting older, our health is deteriorating quickly, but it's just the way life is."
Sighing, she hung her head. Quickly, Harry ran to the other side of the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders while Andrew reached for his mother. Taking Andrew into her arms, she clutched on to Harry. Muttering nonsense, Hermione simply held on to her husband and son for a few minutes. Once she deemed herself sturdy enough, Hermione detached herself from her husband's arms and went back to her father's side.
"I… I just hope you two feel better," murmured Hermione. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. "What if I took you to St. Mungo's? Would that help? I'm sure the Healers there would be able to fix you up in a nanosecond!"
Both of the Grangers shared a look, and when Mister Granger spoke, Hermione knew their decision was unanimous. "Dear, look, we aren't going to a Wizarding hospital. Your Mother and I want to spend our last days here."
Tears instantly stung her eyes. "Last… days?" she stammered, her voice cracked. "I… I didn't think your health was that bad! I… I don't want you to die," she told them softly, tears now freely flowing down her cheeks.
Andrew, seeing his Mother's distress, started crying. Hermione instantly wiped away her tears with her free hand, the other holding her son close, rocking him from side to side. After a minute or so, after hearing Andrew's sobs subside, Hermione shook her head slowly, still unbelieving to her parents' statement.
"Mister and Missus Granger," said Harry softly, "how do you know - I mean, why are - I mean, why - err, your health, it can't positively be in such critical condition, can it?" he stammered, struggling to find the right words.
"First of all," Mister Granger informed him in a soft voice, "it's Mum and Dad to you. You're our son-in-law, like the son we've never had, and I want you to think of us as the same. Second of all, yes," he nodded slowly, "our health is that bad."
"But that's now what you said on the phone!" Hermione exclaimed softly, knowing that Andrew would start sobbing again if she was too loud. "You said that it was slowly fading! Not that you could die any day now!"
Missus Granger sighed before she started coughing loudly. Once her coughing fit was over, she confessed, "Well, it started fading after Andrew was born, and we arrived back in England. It started slow enough, short coughing fits here, a small fever there, but soon, it became more frequent. And now… well, here we are," she finished with a dry chuckle. "We didn't technically lie to you, but we didn't tell you the whole truth."
Hermione sighed, a stray tear falling down her cheek. "I still can't believe it…" she trailed off.
Mister Granger smiled softly. "Please, dear, don't be too angry with us," he pleaded. After a pregnant pause, Mister Granger, hoping to change the subject, asked, "Where are you three staying at?"
Harry answered this question. "The Durley House Hotel, in Knightsbridge," he informed them.
He nodded, taking a piece of pen and paper, writing down the hotel's name. Once he finished, he said, "Well, I see that little Andrew is getting tired, and I suspect you want to wander around London once more, so who would we be to hinder you?"
Immediately, Hermione put her say into the matter. "Oh, you wouldn't stop anything! Really, you wouldn't!" she exclaimed. She sighed, "But Andrew is still jetlagged, so it would be best if we left." She gave her mother and father a soft hug, each giving her a kiss on the forehead and cheek in return.
Harry repeated his wife's actions, receiving the same deeds in return. "I'll see you later… Mum, Dad…" he said, turning to each in-law. Looking over to his son, he saw that Andrew was sleeping, though he wore a small smile on his face. "And Andrew sends his love, through sleeping," he joked, hoping to earn a chuckle.
They did chuckle, but all too soon, Mister Granger started couching. "I'll see you three later," Mister Granger said a few minutes later, offering them a feeble wave.
Nodding, they gave each a hug and kiss once more. Hermione took hold of the stroller once more, and started heading out of the door. "Bye Mum, Dad," and she left the room. Harry followed soon after.
While heading towards the lift once more, Harry placed his hand atop of Hermione's and offered her a small smile. Words weren't necessary, especially after eleven years of friendship, four and a half years of dating, and four years of marriage.
Hermione pressed the button to the lift, her other hand still entwined with Harry's. Soon, the lift arrived, and the doors opened.
Hermione nearly fainted, Harry gasped, and Andrew stayed sleeping. Standing before them, stood two people they had least expected them to be there:
Luna Lovegood and Dudley Dursley.
Author's Notes: Wow, I think this is the quickest I've ever updated anything! But I really like this story… *Goofy grin.*
Okay, now I know hospitals probably aren't like this, but just this once, they are. (Calling, asking if people stayed there, etc.)
"The Durley House Hotel" is a real hotel, but I didn't fully research it, nor did I have the energy to describe the hotel. I don't own it, obviously, but it is real. Oh, and the hospitals are real, too…
If I have gotten anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me.
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