Chapter 13 - First Day at the Grangers'
'Harry!' Aunt Petunia snarled.
'Yes,' Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.
'Your Uncle called from the station, he said the train's almost an hour late and they'll be here late.'
'And you're telling me all this because...?' Harry drawled.
'Don't talk to me in that tone boy,' Petunia snarled, 'there's a slight chance that her arrival might overlap with your freaky friends coming to pick you up, so - '
'They aren't freaky. Hermione's parents are dentists,' Harry interrupted.
'Dentists?' Petunia asked disbelievingly.
'Yeah, you know, the people who fix teeth.'
'Well, when the freak and her parents arrive, I want you to - '
'If memory serves me right, you wanted to be one of those 'freaks' a long time ago. You even sent a letter to dear Professor Dumbledore begging him to let you into Hogwarts,' Harry said cuttingly.
Petunia gasped. She swayed for a moment, before falling abruptly onto the edge of the sofa.
For a moment, there was only silence as Petunia stared at Harry with shock, and perhaps a little fear.
'H-How d -do you know t-that?' Petunia whispered, her head in her hands.
Against his will, Harry was starting to feel guilty for his unkind remark. He had just said it to put his Aunt on the backfoot, he didn't think it would have this much effect on her, especially after all these years.
'I know,' he said simply.
Petunia looked away from him and spoke crisply, 'Go to the spare bedroom, make sure its tidy enough for Marge's visit.'
Harry got up and made his way up the stairs. He took one last look at his Aunt and then he left.
He knew this was his Aunt's way of telling him to stay away till they came to pick him up ; she wouldn't want him to know that she was affected by his words.
Taking a look in the spare bedroom where Marge would be staying, Harry got a nasty idea.
'Dobby!' Harry whispered.
'What can Dobby do for M - Harry?' Dobby asked kindly.
'Can you get some chocolate over here without actually using magic?' Harry asked.
'Of course sir, Dobby can buy it from Hogsmeade,' Dobby replied.
'Okay, can you have the chocolate stuffed into dog biscuits?' Harry asked.
Dobby's eyes widened before he nodded wordlessly.
'And bring me back a few peeled onions as well.'
Harry gave him a few Sickles before telling him to come back quickly.
Harry ran to Dudley's bedroom and reached under the bed, where he knew there was a porn magazine, Dudley's first.
In the old timeline, Dudley had bought his first porn magazine when he was thirteen and a half and had proudly labelled it - 'Property of Dudley Dursley'. He had then added to his collection in the subsequent years. He then walked back to Marge's bedroom, giving the cover an appreciative glance.
Knowing that he was actually almost eighteen, Harry opened it and quickly skimmed through it.
It was five minutes and a few satisfied groans later when Harry snapped the magazine shut as he realised just exactly what he was doing.
'Moaning over Dudley's porn in Marge's bedroom.'
Rubbing his eyes wearily, he took the covers off and placed the magazine underneath such that anyone who was unlucky enough to sleep there would feel its presence.
Dobby appeared at that moment, a small basket of biscuits in one hand and three peeled onions in the other.
Harry took the onions and gestured to the furnished bedside table.
Dobby placed the basket there and then disappeared, but not before giving one last curious look at Harry.
He stuffed the onions and the porn under the blanket. After smoothening the bedsheets, he got up and made his way to the table where Dobby had placed the biscuits.
On a small piece of paper, he wrote - 'For Ripper - With Best Compliments from His Excellency, Mr. Art Vandelay.
Grinning to himself, he exited the room.
Harry whiled away an hour by doing his stretches and then he wandered into the bathroom. Having a quick shower, he took particular care of his appearance as he wanted to look his best for Hermione. He knew that she didn't judge boys by their looks, but he still wanted to look good for her.
The time passed and it was now eleven o' clock. As if on cue, a screeching noise sounded beside Number Four and several doors were opened and slammed shut.
Harry grinned ; Hermione was right on time.
Leaving his luggage in his room, he stormed down the stairs, jumping the last three and zoomed out the door. He came to a standstill as he saw that it was not Hermione, rather it was Uncle Vernon with Marge and her dog in tow.
'Ah, still here are you boy?' Marge spat, shoving a suitcase into his arms and walking past him into the house.
'Always a pleasure,' Harry muttered and he too turned and made his way into the house.
He kept an eye on his back in case Marge's dog came too close. He wasn't scared of dogs, but he was terrified of rabid dogs.
Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Aunt Marge and Dudley were already at the table, settling down for a big brunch.
'There are some wet clothes in my suitcase which you will hang out for drying, then you will take out the toothbrushes and my other accessories and put them in the bathroom, following which you will immediately come down here and tend to my Ripper, is that clear?' Marge snarled, looking at Harry with utter disgust on her face.
'Whatever you say Marjorie,' Harry said calmly, feeling pretty confident by now that the devil had taken control of his tongue. And sure enough -
'WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU -'
'BOY, GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND DO WHAT YOU'RE - '
'YOU COME BACK AND APOLOGISE TO YOUR AUNT - '
Funnily enough, with all the chaos surrounding Harry's unneccessary response, no one heard another car stop by Number Four and no one heard three people get down and walk up to the front door.
'Harry?' someone called out.
Harry turned around abruptly ; it was Hermione.
'Hi Hermione!' he exclaimed thankfully, wanting to kiss her for her perfect timing.
'Are you ready?' she asked shyly.
Harry nodded. 'I'll just get my things, they're in my room.'
'I'll help,' Hermione said eagerly, and they both rushed upstairs, leaving the two adult Grangers to deal with four angry people, three of whom were obese.
'I can take the bags myself, can you just take Hedwig?' Harry asked.
'Sure,' Hermione smiled. 'I recognised your Aunt, Uncle and cousin, but who was the other person?'
'Oh that's a forty year old obese virgin who is worth slightly less than the rabid dog that she feeds fourteen times a day,' Harry replied.
'Ookay,' Hermione raised her eyebrows, 'but what is she doing here?'
'Oh, she's another Aunt of mine,' Harry said nonchalantly, leading them out of the room.
Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him out, taking Hedwig's cage along with her.
To the relief of everyone present except Harry, the Grangers made it out of the house and into their car without any further ado. Harry, however, was still itching for a fight with Aunt Marge.
Harry opened the door for Hermione who looked at him in shock and then she got in, blushing.
Turning quite red himself, Harry went over to the other side and got in.
He rolled down his window and looked out to see four disgusted faces looking back at him.
'Adios!' he hollered out, and they were gone.
The ride to the Grangers' house was pleasant as well as frightening for Harry.
He could feel rather than see Hermione sneaking glances at him every now and then and he felt himself wanting to reach out and hold her hand.
Harry snuck his hand out closer to Hermione's outstretched one.
'Honey, did I tell you about that kid I literally terrorised in our office last week, the one that had three cavities and kept whining? Boy, he left my office screaming in pain.'
Harry immediately jerked his hand back and looked ahead to see Hermione's father glaring at him through the rear view mirror.
If looks could kill, Thomas Granger would have slumped forward in his seat due to the intense glare he was receiving from Hermione.
Thomas ignored his daughter and hummed a jaunty tune as he moved in and out of traffic.
*
They reached Oxford some time laterr, all of them feeling very hungry. Harry took his bags out of the trunk and followed the other three into the house.
'Hermione dear, give him the tour and show him where he'll be staying,' Jane instructed Hermione.
'Sure, mum,' Hermione replied. 'Come on, Harry,' she said, motioning for Harry to follow her.
Hermione showed him the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and then they climbed the stairs to the next floor.
Her parents' bedroom was situated at one end of the first floor and hers on the other.
Harry took a deep breath as he entered Hermione's bedroom. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them and looking at Hermione. She was looking at him expectantly.
'Well...' she trailed off uncertainly.
'I-It's great Hermione!' he said truthfully. Somehow, this was exactly the kind of room he imagined Hermione living in. An entire wall was dedicated to her books and Hogwarts stuff, and the room was impeccably clean with just a small feminine touch in the form of her pink bedsheets and teddy bears.
Hermione must have caught the dreamy look on Harry's face for she blushed slightly. Taking his hand, she led them downstairs where her mother was calling them for lunch.
Lunch was a fairly pleasant affair, for Thomas seemed to be slightly reassured by the fact that Harry and Hermione were sitting on opposite ends of the table.
'So Hermione tells me you defeated a Dark Lord thrice, knocked out a troll, drove a flying car and killed a ninety foot basilisk, not to mention you were the youngest person in a century to make it on to your sports team... Is all that true?' Jane asked, barely ten seconds into their meal.
'Mum!' Hermione blushed ; she had told her mother all that in the strictest confidence.
'Well, it is true dear,' Jane replied gracefully, 'so did all that really happen within two years of you attending this school Harry?'
'Well,' Harry began reluctantly, not seeing how he was going to get out of this one, 'the first time he fell was when I was a year old, so it's not exactly within two years...' Harry trailed off uncomfortably.
'And you're modest too!' Jane exclaimed sincerely, exchanging a meaningful look with Hermione.
Hermione smiled and after sneaking a quick peek at Harry, she looked down into her plate and continued eating silently.
Thomas didn't miss this interaction but he didn't comment on it. Wanting to be courteous for his daughter's sake, he decided to join in the conversation.
'So tell me more about this sport that you play, Harry. Hermione's just told us about you being in danger all the time catching what she says is a 'ridiculous, useless golden ball' and how a teacher once attacked you while you were playing.'
'Not to mention one of her letters this year where she mentioned that the game ball was jinxed to strike you down. Is that common in your world?' Jane asked curiously.
'N-No, not exactly, those were some sort of special circumstances,' Harry replied.
There was an awkward moment of silence before Jane continued, 'Hermione never mentioned any special circumstances to us.'
Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.
'She didn't tell you - '
'Well, she told us about how a teacher was an impostor and that he was somehow the host organism for the Dark Lord.'
'Yeah, well those were the 'special circumstances'. He was trying to kill me on behalf of the parasite that was residing in the back of his head.'
'Do you have any idea why a Dark sorcerer seems to have the hots for you?' Thomas asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Neither can live while the other survives...
'No,' Harry replied.
Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously. For a moment, his eyes seemed to have turned cloudy and she could have sworn that she saw a shadow flit across his boyish contours. He certainly knew more than he was letting on, she surmised.
Harry found himself in a dilemma. He was under the roof of the person he trusted most in the whole world, along with the two people who meant the most to that person. If anyone deserved to know about where he really came from, it was them.
Harry looked up to see Hermione looking at him very suspiciously, as if she was trying to suss out something odd about him. He gulped nervously and looked away.
Quickly turning back to his plate, he devoured the last of his chicken and finished his water. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to last one and a half months without revealing his secret to Hermione Jane Granger.
'So, what do you do on your free evenings Harry?' Thomas asked, as Jane served everyone a generous helping of dessert.
'Um - nothing much, really. If my Aunt and Uncle need help with something, I do that otherwise I just hang around in my room,' Harry answered.
'How would you like to play some tennis at the local club today? We can talk about your Quidditch and we can probably watch some football while we're there.'
'That sounds great!' Harry replied enthusiastically. Perhaps he would be able to really impress Hermione's dad over a lively game of tennis, although he had never played the game before.
'Okay, that's settled then,' Thomas declared, 'will you girls be alright on your own today?'
'I daresay we will,' Jane replied drily.
'What about our essays, we've received over twelve inch assignments in every subject and we have to get a head start on our elective choices for third year. Especially Arithmancy, I'm not sure I - '
'Hermione dear,' Jane said loudly, 'There are still one and a half months of summer holiday left, you'll have plenty of time for it.'
Harry shot Hermione an appraising look, before he chuckled loudly. People changed, but Hermione would always be Hermione, it seemed.
'Is there anything funny about wanting to finish homework and trying to get a head-start, Potter?' Hermione growled, a dangerous glint suddenly appearing in her eyes.
'No!' Harry quickly responded, a little startled by Hermione's tone.
This time the two adults chuckled loudly.
*
The afternoon passed by slowly, with all four of them in the living room, reading magazines and newspapers and in Hermione's case, textbooks.
'Ready to go Harry?' Thomas asked, retrieving his tennis racquets from a cabinet under the showcase.
'Sure, Mr. Granger, let me just put on some runners,' Harry replied.
Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. 'You're going to be wasting your time you know. Sure you'll play tennis for ten minutes and Dad will ask you a few obligatory questions about Quidditch, but the rest of the time will inevitably be spent watching reruns of football and Dad brainwashing you into believing that Manche - '
'Let's GO!' Thomas roared, and for a moment, Harry saw the familiar manic glint of Oliver Wood appear in the older man's eyes.
He first went to Hermione and whispered cryptically, 'Merlin or whoever's up there gave me the gift of time, you know.'
After giving her a small smile and committing her confused expression (something that didn't happen too often) to memory, Harry quickly exited the room.
Hermione leaned back in the sofa and put her books aside. She had done enough reading for the day and now she had some thinking and speculating to do.
'Confused?'
Hermione's head whipped around to see her mother standing at the doorway, looking at her with an undecipherable expression.
'What do you mean?' Hermione asked.
'I didn't think I would be saying this, but I'm a bit confused myself,' Jane responded sitting beside Hermione, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.
'Confused at what?' Hermione asked, irritation creeping into her voice.
'You didn't note anything...off about him?'
'Well,' Hermione began defensively, 'he's been through a lot of terrible things and from what little I saw at the station the last two years, he doesn't have a blooming home life either.'
'No,' Jane said staunchly, 'it's more than that. He's too mature for his age. He actually thinks before he speaks, a quality that simply doesn't exist in teenagers.'
Hermione rolled her eyes at that. 'I think before I speak, mum,' she said contemptuously.
'Let's not get into that now, Poppet,' Jane said patronisingly. 'We were talking about Harry.'
'Yes we were,' Hermione said.
'Doesn't it seem to you that he seems kind of older?' Jane asked delicately.
'Mum, he's almost a year younger than me,' Hermione replied, but she knew exactly what her mother was talking about.
'Not physically, Hermione dear,' Jane responded, looking her daughter in the eye. 'I'm talkng about his behaviour, the way he carries himself. You would almost think he's an adult in a kid's body!' she finished jokingly, but it was too late.
Hermione's eyes widened as she clapped her hand to her mouth, barely stifling a shocked gasp.
Memories of her interactions with Harry over the past two weeks surfaced in her mind. The responsible way he handled himself ever since she woke up from her coma. The quiet, thinking and rationalising side he had shown to her. The dark, loathsome shadow of his that she had very briefly spotted when he was facing off with Malfoy in the train...
His own comments of 'being given the gift of time'. Could it even be possible? An adult in a kid's body? Hermione's extraordinary mind immediately told her that no, it wasn't possible, that it defied all logic - but two years of knowing Harry James Potter told her that, when it came to him, all logic was thrown out of the window.
'Hermione? Hermione?!!'
Hermione shook herself abruptly before she got up with a start.
'Hermione dear, are you alright?' Jane asked worriedly.
'I - I'm fine, mum,' Hermione replied shakily, 'I just wanna be in my room for some time.'
'Hermione, if it's about - '
'Mum, please,' Hermione said firmly. 'Later.'
Jane's eyes never left Hermione's retreating figure as she trudged her way back to her room while the latter's mind and heart were furiously discussing the topic of a dreamy green eyed seeker living under her roof, and whether or not he was a premature version of the young man he was destined to become in the future.
*
The ride to Thomas Granger's sports club was a short one and the two of them moved into a vacant court for a couple of practice shots.
'Don't play too many of our type of games while you're at Hogarts, Harry?' Thomas asked forty minutes later, as they cooled off with a bottle of Gatorade. (AN - I know Gatorade is ''barely there'' in U.K., but I love it so much I can't imagine drinking any other drink)
'Not exactly,' Harry replied, 'though we do play chess and if you come to think about it, Quidditch remotely represents basketball.'
'Except for the murderous intercepter who is allowed to pelt the opposition forwards with rock hard balls at inhuman speeds.'
'Ah, yes, except for that part,' Harry acknowledged.
'So no one's even heard of football, huh?' Thomas asked, inching closer to the topic that cleared his heart of malicious influence and breathed life into his veins.
'No,' Harry responded,' oh wait, there's a guy in my year who talks about football and always mentions the need for red cards in Quidditch.'
'Really!' Thomas exclaimed, 'so what about him?'
'Well, his name's Dean Thomas, he's in Gryffindor like Hermione and I, he supports West Ham or something, he also - '
'What?!' Thomas exclaimed, louder than before. 'Did you say West Ham Club, as in the club that never even made it close to winning Division, not even one time in its pathetic history?'
'Er - '
'Did you mean West Ham, as in the club that last won a major trophy a long time ago when Hermione was still in her diapers?'
'Er, yeah, I guess so,' Harry replied.
'Hmmm.'
There was silence for a minute, before Thomas spoke again.
'Harry, what does 'Newton Heath Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Football Club' mean to you?'
'Um - I've never heard of it sir,' Harry responded truthfully.
Thomas groaned loudly and gave Harry a disappointed look. 'What are the youth coming to nowadays if they have no knowledge of events that bring colour into this otherwise dark world, events that give the world focus and balance?'
'Huh?' was all Harry managed to offer, before -
'THE RED DEVILS!!' Thomas roared, dropping the entire contents of his drink and attracting the attention of everyone in a hundred foot radius. Harry looked carefully at his host for the summer ; Oliver Wood before a new Quidditch season paled in comparision to this.
AN - Well, here it is! A typical ''summer at the Grangers'' story for the next few chapters. Incidentally, I was planning on brushing over this area as I simply CANNOT write fluff, but after watching the movie I felt I'd better give a go at the pumpkin pie goodness.
On that note, I don't think us H/Hr shippers have too much to squirm about over the Harry/fan girl scenes in the movie - Scene 1 : She ties his SHOELACES, Scene 2 - Her desperate plea 'take my hand', Scene 3 - All they share is a pathetic closed mouth kiss in the dusty and messy confines of the Room of Requirement. Plus Harry and Hermione's strong friendship wasn't demolished in the movie as it was in the book and someone as PERCEPTIVE as Albus Dumbledore thought something was going on between them.
I will not comment on the actions of Severus Snape in the movie. I will not speak about his bone chilling brilliance in the climax or his seemingly diabolical behaviour throughout which only covered his true heroics.
Whew! That's it for now.
Btw, today (August 1st) is the 12 year anniversary of Voldemort taking over in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows! Well done old chap! Too bad his reign lasted exactly 1 day longer than a pregnant lady's time period...
Would love it if you guys leave a review on your way out! :)