A/N - thank you all for your reviews and comments. I like this chapter so I hope you do to…
Chapter 2
The suburban street was full of normal weekend activities - lawns being mowed, gardens being gardened, cars being washed - making a strange sense of longing come over Harry as he walked past all the activity. He hadn't done such things now for over a year and he had thought at the time, during his long summers at the Dursley's, that he'd never miss the hard work. Seeing others doing the chores now though made him want to get back into it.
Weird.
Nervously, he looked down at the bit of parchment in his hand and once again noted the number of the street written on it. He should know the address off by heart now, the amount of times he had glanced at it, but he didn't, his nerves making him forget almost everything.
He was closer now, his heart rate increasing with every step that he took. He didn't really understand why he was so scared, it was only Hermione's place after all, but he was. He hadn't seen her for over two weeks and she had left without talking to him at all. It was all rather strange.
Taking a deep breath, he paused as he looked up at the house he had been searching for. It was an unremarkable detached bungalow, with a small front garden behind a low stone wall. He could see Mr Granger in the driveway, trying to unload a large item from the back of a trailer. Tucking the slip of parchment in his pocket, Harry took another deep breath and made his way up the driveway.
"Need some help there, Mr Granger?" he asked when he was close enough.
"Harry!" the older man exclaimed, pushing his load back onto the trailer and welcoming Harry with a warm shake of the hand, "this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"I…I haven't seen Hermione for a while," Harry bumbled, a blush tainting his cheeks, "just thought I come and say hi."
"Well, I'm sure she'll be pickled to see you," Mr Granger enthused before turning back to the trailer with a frown, "I'm supposed to be putting this shed together but I think I've bitten off more than I can chew."
"I can give you a hand, if you like," Harry offered, already reaching for one of the pieces of the shed lying in the back of the trailer.
"Oh, no," Mr Granger exclaimed, halting Harry by a touch on his arm, "I can't ask you to do that! Besides, the girls have already offered to help (though I don't think they've realised what they've got themselves into). You're here to see Hermione!"
"I don't mind," Harry insisted, now lifting a piece off the trailer, "honestly."
Mr Granger hesitated for a moment longer before breaking out into a grin and also grabbing one of the smaller pieces from the pile.
"That would be brilliant, Harry," he beamed, "thank you. And I'm sure both my wife and my daughter will also be thanking you before this day is through."
Harry just smiled and followed Mr Granger around the side of the house and into the back yard. Both Mrs Granger and Hermione were there, both weeding different flower beds that followed the fence line around the side of the lawn. The two were chatting and didn't notice their arrival until Mr Granger spoke.
"Look who I found wandering off the street," he said jovially, making both Hermione and her mother look up expectedly. Harry's nerves returned ten fold when Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when she saw him and felt a whole other emotion when she stood and he saw she was wearing thigh length shorts and a t-shirt, definitely the least amount of clothes he had ever seen her in.
"Harry!" she cried, making her way to him with a bunch of weeds in one gloved hand and a trowel in the other, "what are you doing here? Are you alright? Is everyone okay? Ron? Nothing's gone wrong, has it?"
"No, nothing's wrong," he quickly assured, resting his piece of shed on his legs, "everyone is fine. I just, well, I guess I just wanted to say hi…"
"Say hi?" she repeated, now frowning suspiciously.
"Er, yeah," he replied nervously, "and see how you're doing…"
"Right," she said, her face hard.
"Hermione, dear," Mrs Granger cut in, taking the weeds and trowel from her glaring daughter and smiling encouragingly at Harry, "why don't you and Harry catch up for a bit while your dad and I make some lunch.. Harry, would you like a sandwich or two?"
Harry numbly nodded his acceptance, aware that he was still holding on to his piece of shed and that Hermione was still scowling at him. As soon as her parents had left the garden, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way to a small garden bench that sat underneath a large oak tree on the garden's edge, taking off her gloves as she did so. Harry put down his handful and followed a few steps behind.
"So, why are you really here?" she asked as she sat, tucking her legs under her and dropping her gloves to the ground.
"Well, I haven't seen you for a while," Harry started, his hands deep in his pockets as he hovered uncomfortably a few feet away from where she was sitting, "and I wanted to…"
"Say hi and see how I'm doing," she repeated, "I heard. The thing is Harry, you've never come to see me over summer or even ask how I am or what I'm doing. In fact, our contact over summer is usually very limited and involves a Weasley or two. So, what is the real reason you're here?"
"You left without saying goodbye," he blurted out, blushing, "I don't hear from you for weeks and I was…I was just worried, that's all!"
Hermione looked at him for a moment without speaking and he saw her anger slowly disappear.
"You're right," she said, sighing deeply, "I'm sorry." Harry just nodded in reply, still not quite sure what to do until she said, "oh, for goodness sake Harry, sit down! It's not like I'm going to attack you or anything!"
With some reluctance, Harry did as he was asked, perching himself on the edge of the bench as far away from Hermione as he could. When she didn't say anything more, he took a deep breath and began to speak.
"So, have…have you had a good summer so far?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes, I have," she replied and he could hear a smile in her voice, so he looked at her and saw she was indeed smiling, "it's been great just being able to relax, catch up with mum and dad. You know, do normal things."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry agreed, "doing normal things, that is."
"Are you having fun at the Weasley's then?"
"I guess so," he replied with a new wave of unease, "Mrs Weasley's been fussing me heaps, Ron spends an awful amount of time either at the Ministry with his dad or with Luna so I hardly see him." He stopped abruptly as thoughts of Ginny entered his mind and the fact that she had been taking up a lot of his spare time. He realised he could no longer look at Hermione and suddenly found the spot of ground in front of his feet extremely interesting.
"Which would give you plenty of time to strengthen your relationship with Ginny," Hermione filled in for him, chuckling slightly, "and I bet that's been lots of fun!"
Harry didn't know what to say. It had been happening to him a lot lately, whenever he had both Hermione and Ginny on his mind. Knowing that Hermione has feelings for him seemed to have changed something within his brain, making him unsure of himself and where he stood whenever he thought about her.
Ginny still didn't know the truth and he wanted to keep it that way. She seemed to think that his strange moods were just because of the war and was trying hard to give him the support he needed, patiently waiting for their relationship to progress past holding hands and kissing every now and then.
But Harry wasn't too sure it would. Not yet anyway; not until he had sorted out what he felt for Hermione.
He found himself thinking of her more often than he should, wondering if she was okay, hoping that he wouldn't lose her because of his lack of response to her in the hospital ward. The fact she had left without saying goodbye and the fact that he hadn't heard anything from her since then had scared him.
Which is why he was here. And why he really didn't want to talk about Ginny.
"Harry?"
He was confused. He hadn't lied when he told Hermione that he had never thought of her in any way other than a friend. But he also knew she was way more important to him than 'just' a friend. And he was attracted to Ginny. It was Ginny who made him feel…well, it was Ginny who he wanted to kiss and hold and…
"Harry!"
Slightly startled, he looked at Hermione only to see her watching him curiously. Remembering what he had just been thinking about, Harry felt his cheeks redden again and he guiltily glanced away, missing the frown that crossed Hermione's face. When he felt her take his hands in hers, his heart rate increased and reluctantly he turned back to her as she peered into his face, making him look at her.
"This has got to stop, Harry," she started softly.
"What?"
"You feeling guilty every time you talk about Ginny to me," she continued, smiling slightly, "please, please listen to me and listen really carefully, because I want you to understand what I'm going to tell you so all this nonsense can stop."
Hermione paused as she got her thoughts together, giving Harry the opportunity to look closely at her face - her mass of hair had been tied back haphazardly in a bushy ponytail with small ringlets escaping here and there. A bridge of freckles sprinkled over her nose where the sun had penetrated the sunscreen she undoubtedly would use, with her face free of any make-up (which Ginny always seemed to wear, even when all they were doing was hanging around).
She was chewing her bottom lip in thought, releasing it as she looked back at him, her brown eyes nearly as familiar to him as his own. Smiling at him, she squeezed his hands for a brief moment then began to speak.
"I've had a long time to get used to the idea that my feelings for you aren't returned," she said, stopping him speaking by shaking her head slightly, "no, let me say this. Let me get this out so things can go back to how they were.
"I know you don't love me like I love you, I know that. In the beginning it hurt because I wondered what was wrong with me, why you went for Cho and then Ginny and not me when I was your best friend. But in these last few years I realised that there wasn't anything wrong with me at all. It just isn't meant to be and that your friendship was a wonderful gift and something I could and should treasure.
"Last year I began to make contingency plans on what I would do once the war was over. One thing I vowed I would never do is feel sorry for myself and wish away my life on what might have been, to sit and watch you fall in love with someone else wanting it desperately to be me. I'm not going to do that. I'm worth more than that.
"There's more in my life than just you, Harry. I couldn't have said that these last seven years when you were my life, where everything in it revolved around you and keeping you alive.
"But now? Now it's about me. I want a career. I want to spend time with my family and friends. I want to find a hobby, maybe write a book. I want a life of my own. I want to do things just for me, do you understand?" She paused slightly allowing him to nod his acknowledgement, telling her that he did understand the need for some personal space. She continued.
"You and Ron are my best friends and that will never, ever change. There is a bond between the three of us that is so strong I don't think anything will break it. But we're growing up, doing our own things, going along our own paths, which means there will be big changes and challenges ahead.
"And this is the part I want you to listen to Harry, listen and understand. I'm happy with my life. I'm happy with who I am and what I'm doing. I'm looking forward to what lies ahead for me and the challenges that I'm going to face. And I'm happy to do that on my own."
"You aren't alone, Hermione," Harry put in quietly, aware that he should say more but finding that he couldn't.
"Oh, Harry," she smiled, "I know I'm not alone. I have so many people around me to help if I need it. But because both you and Ron have found someone special, everyone seems to feel that I'm sad and lonely when I'm anything but!
"And you need to stop feeling guilty for being happy with Ginny."
"It's just that," Harry began, thinking hard on how he could tell her why he was feeling what he was feeling especially when he didn't really understand it himself, "it's just that, I don't know, you're my best friend and I…I don't want to hurt you…"
"You're not hurting me, Harry," she assured him, "I'm stronger than you think. You have to believe me. I. Am. Happy."
They looked at each other then, and Harry saw she was telling the truth. Just then, Mrs Granger came over to them with a tray of sandwiches and a couple of drinks. Hermione took the food from her mother with a word of thanks then placed it between herself and Harry on the bench, taking a sandwich as she went and began eating. After a slight hesitation, Harry did the same.
"So," he said between mouthfuls, "have you decided what career you're going to have?"
"No," Hermione replied promptly and continued eating.
"Really?" Harry blurted, surprised, "I thought you'd have it all worked out."
"I did, once upon a time," she smiled, "I've had a few offers and stuff, but…"
"So, what're going to do?"
"Go back to Hogwarts."
"What?" Harry cried, "why?"
"Because I want to finish my education," she told him, "I want to sit my NEWT's, I want to be head girl and I want a year to get over what I've been through and sort out what I want to do with my life."
"But we have honorary passes for our NEWT's," he frowned, confused, "and I thought you just told me you had a career…"
"No, I said I want a career," Hermione corrected, finishing her drink, "and I'll use my year at Hogwarts to sort out what that career will be. I told Professor McGonagall while I was in hospital and she said she would help me in any way she could. So, I go back on the first."
"Wow," Harry exclaimed, paused, then looked back at her, "do you…do you think about the last battle much? What Voldemort did?"
"More than I like," she answered, her tone suddenly solemn and her smile leaving her face, "sleeping isn't going that well for me at the moment. How 'bout you?"
"The dreams aren't as bad as before," Harry admitted softly, "Remus is helping me sort all that stuff out. You…you should talk to someone about it…"
"I will," she assured before smiling once more, "hey, you changed the subject! What are you going to do next, Mr Potter? Be a man of leisure, sunning yourself in some exotic local? Maybe a super-model perhaps?"
"Yeah right," he laughed along with her, "the camera just loves me!"
"So, what are you going to do Harry?"
"To be honest, I don't know," he sighed, "Ginny wants me to be an Auror. Neville has joined, so has Seamus and she thinks I should too."
"I thought you didn't want to be an Auror," Hermione stated, "that you had had enough of fighting the bad guys."
"I know," he admitted, "but everyone just expects that's what I'll do. They've practically got my name down at the Academy already. And I guess I'm good at it…"
"I think you'd be a fantastic Auror," she told him seriously, making him look at her in surprise, "but I don't think you'd be a particularly happy Auror."
"Yeah, I guess," he sighed, "but I don't really know what else to do. And I feel like I'd let Ginny and everyone else down if I don't join up."
When Hermione didn't reply and instead began chewing her bottom lip slightly, the look in her eye telling him that she wanted to say something but wasn't sure if she should, Harry frowned.
"What is it Hermione?" he prompted.
"Well," she began cautiously, "it's just that, you've been doing things for everyone else your whole life, don't you think it's time that you did things for you? I'm sure Ginny would understand if you told her that you'd rather do something else."
Harry wasn't too sure about that - Ginny had been quite persuasive when it came to what he should do next. He had got the feeling she liked the idea that he would be this great dark wizard catcher, that his name would get to be even more famous than what it was now. Anything less, it seemed, wouldn't be good enough.
It was then that Mr Granger remerged from the house, unintentionally interrupting them as both Harry and Hermione looked over as he made his way to the side entrance to the garden.
"Sorry," he called out, "but if I don't start on this shed, it will never get done. You two just ignore me." With that he disappeared around the side of the house.
"Where can I go and change?" Harry asked, immediately standing.
"You don't need to help…" Hermione began as she also stood, holding the empty plate and glasses.
"I want to," Harry replied, then with a smile, "I kinda miss getting my hands dirty."
"Okay then," she laughed, heading towards the house, "but you have been warned!"
The trip to the house gave Harry the time to think over the conversation he just had. He felt lighter somewhat, knowing that Hermione hadn't been stuck in her room, upset and hurting about their…situation. She was happy, she really was and she seemed to be fine with everything.
But that didn't stop the confusion he still felt.
Hermione showed him the bathroom where he went and transfigured his clothes to shorts and a t-shirt. Before he had any more time to think, he was outside and carrying sections of the garden shed to the back yard. He and Mr Granger puzzled over the construction instructions then battled together to put the shed together, with Hermione and her mother helping occasionally.
Harry found himself having fun. Mr Granger had a dry sense of humour that had Harry chuckling more than once - even when part of the shed fell down. As the afternoon progressed, he found himself relaxing more and more. Though he loved the Weasley's and living at the Burrow was fantastic, he was constantly reminded of his life and the horrors he had lived through. With the Grangers he was normal and he found himself enjoying the feeling immensely.
It was very late afternoon when he and the Granger family stood back and marvelled at the wonder of a complete and sturdy garden shed.
"Not bad," Mrs Granger acknowledged.
"Not bad?" her husband exclaimed, "I think it's bloody brilliant! A marvel of engineering magnificence! A proud symbol of suburban masculinity…"
"Don't get too carried away, dear," Mrs Granger smiled as both Harry and Hermione sniggered, "Harry, you have to stay for dinner, let us repay you for all your help and hard work today. I'm sure you didn't envisage constructing a symbol of suburban masculinity when you made your way over to visit Hermione."
"Oh, that's okay," Harry replied somewhat bashfully, "I've had fun…"
"…and he can't really stay for dinner," Hermione interrupted, "he's probably expected at the Weasley's. I mean, he has been gone all day."
Harry looked at Hermione to see she had turned a brilliant shade of red that would make Ron proud.
"Actually," he said after a moment's pause, turning back to Mr and Mrs Granger, "thanks, dinner would be brilliant. I'm sure Mrs Weasley won't mind."
"Excellent!" Mr Granger grinned, "we're hooked up to the fireplace telephone service thing…"
"The floo, daddy," Hermione corrected quietly.
"Right, the floo," he continued, leading Harry into the house, "so you can let the Weasley's know that way if you like."
Harry nodded and in moments found himself kneeling in front of the Granger's fireplace, his head among the green flames and asking to speak to Ron - cringing when Mrs Wealsey yelled out to Ron that Harry wanted to talk to him; he had wanted to keep the conversation a bit more discrete. Ron alone knew where Harry was and when told that Harry was staying for dinner, a grin of understanding crossed his face before quickly disappearing as Ginny wanted to see Harry and know where he was.
The floo link was broken quite suddenly.
Standing up, Harry looked around the living room. He had already washed his hands and face prior to making the call (with the others now getting ready) allowing him to be alone as he waited. He changed his clothes back to what they were when he arrived, then looked around the room. Not surprisingly, it was full of bookshelves and books. There was no television but a stereo system along with a variety of records and tapes.
On the walls were a few artistic looking black and white photographs while the mantle was covered in family photos. He started looking at them to see a Hermione he very rarely saw at Hogwarts. There was the younger Hermione, of course - even a baby Hermione - but there was also a smiling, laughing Hermione. He picked up the photo taken of the Granger family outside the glass pyramid at the Louvre, taken probably during the last family holiday before she started spending all of her time with him and Ron. She looked so happy.
"We've decided that we can't be bothered cooking," Mrs Granger announced as she entered the lounge, startling Harry slightly as he put down the picture, "so we're going to have take-aways. What do you feel like, Harry?"
"Oh, I don't mind," Harry said quickly, "I'll have what ever you're having…"
"Don't be silly," Mr Granger admonished with a smile as he followed his wife into the room, "you're the guest! The man of the hour! It's your choice - we have a really nice Indian, or Chinese…"
"…kebabs, fish and chips…" Mrs Granger listed, going through a handful of menus, "an Italian place that does fantastic pizza's…"
"Pizza?" Harry blurted before he even thought about it.
"Ah," Mr Granger smiled, "I think we have a winner!"
"Pizza it is," his wife continued, sitting down and opening the Italian restaurant pamphlet, "now, which toppings?"
"I don't mind…" Harry started.
"You must have a favourite," Mr Granger said as he sat down in an armchair, "everyone has a favourite topping! Mine's Hawaiian."
"I didn't really get to choose," Harry admitted, still hovering by the mantle, "I just ate whatever my cousin left…"
"Your uncle and aunt didn't let you choose?" Mrs Granger interrupted, looking up from the menu.
"Well, no," Harry admitted with a shrug, "they thought whatever my cousin liked was good enough…"
"What about what you liked?" Mrs Granger pressed.
"Oh, I didn't matter," Harry dismissed casually, smiling slightly when he saw Hermione enter the room freshly showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
"Didn't matter?" Mrs Granger repeated, a familiar looking frown crossing her face, making her look a lot like her daughter when faced with an injustice against some poor wizarding creature, "what do you mean, didn't matter? Surely your aunt and uncle cared about what you thought?"
"No, not really," Harry replied as he finally left his spot by the mantle and went to sit next to Hermione on the couch.
"So, what's for dinner?" Hermione asked, curling her legs under her, pausing as she finally noticed her mother's frown, "what's wrong?"
"I don't think your mother approves of Harry's uncle and aunt's parenting skills," Mr Granger answered in a way that told Harry he had been in the situation before, "oh, and we're having pizza."
"Excellent," Hermione replied, seemingly ignoring the 'parenting' comment and instead focusing on the food as she then asked, "what toppings are we going to have?"
"Now, there's the conundrum," Mr Granger smiled, leaning back in his chair, "Harry doesn't have a favourite so I'm thinking…"
"Ooh, every flavour pizza!" Hermione interrupted with an excited squeal, her face lighting up like a four year old, "like when I was little?"
"Yes, pumpkin pie," Mr Granger confirmed affectionately, "every flavour pizza, like when you were little. What do you think, Harry? Shelly?"
"Sounds great," Mrs Granger said, her frown softening, "that way Harry can find out his favourite flavour for next time."
"Er…right," Harry stammered, his mind stuck on the idea that there may be a next time.
"My thoughts exactly," her husband smiled as he stood, "I'll go and order."
With that, Mr Granger left the room to go and make the call to the Italian restaurant while Mrs Granger got herself more comfortable as she looked kindly over at Harry. Wanting to get any conversation well away from him, he turned to Hermione with a grin.
"I just thought," he said, taking caution to the wind, "I don't really know much about your life before Hogwarts. You never really talked about it much, other than your holidays…"
"That's because there isn't much to say," she humphed, "before Hogwarts, I didn't have any friends and I spent my time at home alone, reading."
"Can't have been that bad…"
"Well, it wasn't as bad as yours," Hermione admitted with a shrug, "but it was pretty awful."
"Oh, come on now, sweetie," Mrs Granger interjected, "you make it sound like you were terribly mistreated. Just because others didn't understand your uniqueness…"
"You call it uniqueness," Hermione muttered, "everyone else thought I was just ugly and strange!"
"You have never been ugly," Mr Granger declared as he strolled back into the living room and sat down in his chair, "though I must admit, when you came back home after your fourth year and your teeth had been shortened, I felt rather guilty. You were quite the beautiful young lady and getting your teeth fixed sooner may have spared you some grief."
"A young woman shouldn't rely on good looks to get by," Mrs Granger declared, and Harry was sure he heard a quiet sigh from Hermione next to him, "it is brains and personality that makes one beautiful. Hermione was doing quite well before hand…"
"Mother, I had no friends, people thought I was a nightmare and I was miserable…"
"But you made friends," Mrs Granger argued, "and you became this strong, independent young woman who now has the world at your feet all because you had to make it that way. Things weren't just given to you, you've had to work hard to get there and now it is all paying dividends."
"Besides," Mr Granger added with a smile, "we thought you were beautiful and doesn't that count for anything?"
"Of course it does, daddy," Hermione smiled back, "but you and mum are very biased. It would be nice to hear it from someone outside the family."
"I told you you were pretty once," Harry stated, thinking about it.
"No Harry, you told me you didn't think I was ugly," Hermione chuckled, "there's a difference."
"Ah, Harry," Mr Granger said wistfully, "good to see you are as suave as I was at your age. Now, I'm sure you would like to see why Hermione's mother and I always thought our daughter was the most beautiful little girl in the world…"
"Daddy," Hermione protested, blushing terribly and purposefully ignoring Harry, who was looking at her with interest.
"…and the fact that she was born at all is a miracle, so we have several photo albums covering her life to prove it," Mr Granger concluded proudly.
"Hermione was a miracle?" Harry asked, still looking at Hermione who, if possible, blushed even harder.
"Oh yes," Mrs Granger answered as she looked fondly at her embarrassed daughter, "Phil and I started a bit late…"
"…we wanted to finish university and get settled into a practice before we started a family," Mr Granger added.
"…so by the time we even thought about it, I was in my thirties…"
"…and then when it took ages for anything to happen…"
"…we went to the doctors to see if there was a problem…"
"…and there was. We were told that the chances of us conceiving were extremely slim so we should perhaps look at alternatives like adoption…"
"…but we got pregnant not long after though unfortunately I miscarried…"
"…so we made the decision to stop trying and just get on with our lives…"
"…which was when Hermione was conceived and after surprising us all, carried on to nearly full term…"
"Nearly full term?" Harry interrupted, frowning.
"Hermione was born four weeks too early," Mrs Granger explained, "which is not much now, but then the technology was at its infancy, excuse the pun…"
"…but our little girl is a fighter," Mr Granger finished, standing and going to one of the bookshelves to retrieve three large albums, "which is why we have hundreds and hundreds of photos of her!"
"Harry doesn't want to see them…" Hermione tried to object, somewhat timidly.
"Yes I do," Harry countered, taking the first album from Mr Granger with a grin, immediately opening it and looking at the baby photos inside.
He began flicking through the pages, his eyes scanning over the various shots of Hermione as a baby. Initially, she was a tiny, little thing connected to an incubator by wires and tubes. As the photos progressed, she began to look more like a baby though the only thing he could recognise was her eyes - large and the darkest brown looking at him from the pages. Her hair began to show its wild abandon when she was a toddler with her looking more and more like the Hermione he knew.
Her parents were explaining the context of the photos as he progressed, though he couldn't help pausing and laughing when he came across a shot of a naked little girl at a beach somewhere.
"Oh no," groaned Hermione, hiding her face in her hands.
"I think Ron is going to be extremely jealous when I tell him I've seen you naked," Harry laughed.
"Don't you dare!" she cried, to the amusement of everyone else. Harry just chuckled and continued looking through the album.
He finished the first one and began on the second album, where she was slightly older. He paused when a photo of a miniature Hermione looked up at him from the depths of a large book. She must've been no older than two and although he couldn't see the title, he could tell the book wasn't the average type for a child her age.
"Hermione started to read at eighteen months and began reading full sentences and things before she was two," Mr Granger told him proudly.
"I can believe it," Harry responded with a smile, glancing at a quiet Hermione before carrying on with the album.
"I bet your family have just as many photos of you," Mrs Granger said after a moment, "and are just as proud. Especially now, after everything you've done."
"My family would've been prouder if I had been killed with my parents," Harry replied nonchalantly, smiling at the little girl grinning at him from the many images before him.
"Oh, I don't believe that, Harry," Mrs Granger continued and Harry could hear the frown in her voice, "I'm sure they loved you…"
"My uncle and aunt hated me," Harry said with little thought before breaking out in hysterical laughter when a grumpy girl dressed in a tutu and tights, arms crossed angrily across her chest, glared at him from the pages, "you did ballet classes?" he asked, turning to an indignant Hermione.
"Yes I did," she stated grumpily, "and as you can tell, I didn't enjoy it that much. I don't, however, see why it is so funny!"
"I just can't imagine you jumping around in a tutu and leotards, that's all," Harry chuckled, moving on to the next page.
"She only lasted a couple of lessons," Mr Granger explained, also grinning, "we could see straight away that dance wasn't her thing," and before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang, "right, here's dinner," he announced then jumped up to secure the food.
"Why do you think your uncle and aunt hated you?" Mrs Granger asked, carrying on as if his outburst of laughter never happened.
"Mum, please, give it a rest," Hermione said quietly but firmly, glaring at her mother. But Harry wanted to get this out of the way.
"Because they told me on many occasions that they wished I never existed and that they thought I was a waste of space," was his reply, finally looking up from the now finished photo album full of happy family pictures and looked into the concerned eyes of Hermione's mother, "I didn't have a bedroom until I was eleven, my first presents were the ones I got for Christmas at Hogwarts (unless you count the cake Hagrid gave me) and my uncle and aunt treated me like I was a servant until I was finally old enough to tell them to leave me alone."
"You didn't have a bedroom?" Mrs Granger questioned though now her tone was quiet and somewhat sad, "did you share with your cousin?"
"No, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven," he stated firmly, shrugging slightly when both Hermione and her mother gasped.
"But…but that's shocking!" Mrs Granger exclaimed, only slightly aware that her husband had returned with the food, "all of what you said is shocking! Didn't anyone notice what they were doing to you? Didn't anyone care?"
"No, not really," Harry answered, still looking at Mrs Granger.
"His uncle and aunt are horrible people, mum," Hermione added quietly.
"You knew about this?" her mother cried, close to tears.
"I knew that they treated Harry terribly," Hermione answered, "but it wasn't until I lived there for those few weeks last year I realised just how horrid they actually were. I saw the locks on the door on the cupboard," she continued, but this time directed herself to Harry, "did they used to lock you in there as well?"
"Yeah, but I was smaller then," he offered.
"That really doesn't matter, Harry," Mr Granger spoke up, pausing from opening the pizza boxes to look at him, "you shouldn't be locked up at all."
"How long would they keep you in there?" was Mrs Granger's next question and Harry had had enough.
"It depended on what I had done," Harry said briskly, "look, the Dursely's treated me like dirt but that's all I knew until I went to Hogwarts. All the time I was with them I knew there had to be something better and there was. What they did to me - the ignoring, the lack of food, the being locked up - whatever, has made me into the person I am now. I'm stronger for it and I guess I've come out the better…"
"Oh Harry, you have definitely come out the better person…" Hermione interrupted, intertwining her hand in his in support.
"They are my past," Harry sighed, looking down at his and Hermione's hands, "I don't care about them just like they don't care about me. I've had worst done to me than the Dursely's and I try not to think about that either. I just want to think about the future. I just want to move forward."
No one said anything for a moment which suited Harry fine. He continued to look at his hand wrapped with Hermione's, marvelling at how that simple touch made him feel so much better. He hadn't minded when Mrs Granger had been so offended by his treatment at the Dursley's, it had reminded him so much of Hermione. But now he wanted the conversation to return to fun things.
"Very worthy sentiments Harry," Mr Granger finally said, "and I'm all for moving forward but also about living for today. Which is what we need to do quite quickly as I'm afraid the pizza is getting cold. Come on you lot - tuck in!"
The change in mood was immediate as the talk turned to food and trying, and explaining, all the different sorts of pizza toppings. Hermione let go of his hand so she could eat and he realised how much he missed its warmth. All though the rest of the evening he listened to stories of Hermione's childhood and while his own stories came up now and then, they were no longer treated with as much vigour.
Harry could see how Hermione's parents had shaped their daughter - Mrs Granger was passionate about those less fortunate and quite well versed in the political situations both locally and internationally. Mr Granger seemed studious and methodical and more than able to mediate between the sometimes fired up females in his life.
It was dark when Harry was ready to leave, Hermione escorting him to the back yard so he was able to apparate.
"Sorry about mum before," she said after a few moments of comfortable silence.
"No worries," Harry replied with a shrug, "I know my life's been pretty much rubbish until now. For people who know better, it's a bit of a shock."
"It can only get better," she smiled as they stopped in the shadow of the tree they had sat at earlier that day, "you deserve better Harry."
"Yeah, I guess," he said with a smile, "your parents are nice."
"I've been pretty lucky," she accepted, "thanks for today Harry. It's been fun."
"Yeah, it has," he paused, suddenly feeling nervous, "so, I'll see you at the ball in a couple of weeks?"
"Sure," she smiled once more, "I better get back. Enjoy the rest of your summer Harry. I'll see you later."
She stepped away from him, giving him some space to Apparate. With a feeling of disappointment that she didn't give him a good-bye peck, he raised his hand in a parting wave and then was gone.