Author's Notes: When I see Harry and Hermione, I see then from the fourth movie. So, that's how I'm going to describe them.
Now, JKR once said that Hermione was going to have a sister/brother (I think she did…), but she decided against it. Well, I'm giving that sibling a chance! (Hmm… she did say that, didn't she???)
Hermione sat in the back seat of the car, sitting next to Harry, who didn't seem to like the handcuffs. She took in all of his features (she was mostly staring into his wonderful eyes when she had hugged him). He'd grown about three inches, just under 5'11'' now. His hair had grown a few inches; it was now just about to his neck, messy as ever. He had gotten a few muscles, too, she noticed. He wasn't buff, but he wasn't scrawny anymore, either. He still wore Dudley's clothes, too; she'd have to change that, she thought. Then, she took in his eyes. His wonderful, emerald green eyes; they were always hidden by those wretched glasses, which were cracked, she noticed. His hands were still cuffed, too.
Hermione scooted closer to Harry, not noticing the small smile on his face, and held his hands, which were still behind his back.
"Here, let me," she said. He looked at her oddly, wonder what she was going to do. "The handcuffs," she said, seemingly reading his mind.
"Oh," was all he said. He turned his back a little, letting her hold his cuffed hands.
"Dad, where are the keys to the cuffs?" she asked her father, who was currently taking the exit to London. He shifted his weight a little, taking out a small key from his back pocket, and gave the silver key to Hermione.
"What do you want to do with it? If you want to do what I think you want to do, don't do it," he said, not once taking his eyes off the road.
"No, Hermione, you're not. I don't care, unless that boy is some famous kid, then maybe I'll let him free," he said.
Hermione's eyes brightened up and Harry groaned, knowing what Hermione was about to say.
"But dad, Harry is famous!" she exclaimed, ignoring the groaning and whining from the person next to her.
"Hermione!" whined Harry.
"Shh, Harry!" Hermione said.
"Dad, can I now? Harry is very famous. Ask mum, she'll tell you the truth," she said.
He made a grunting sound that Hermione took as a `yes.' She took Harry's cuffed hands and put the key in the key hole. She twisted it and they popped open, letting Harry's wrists free. He twisted his hands a bit, letting the cramps out. After he was free of those handcuffs, he hugged Hermione, tight. She was a bit shocked at first, but then wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Thanks, those things were cold," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"No problem, Harry. Just doing a friend a favor," she whispered in his ear.
"OY!" Hermione's father said, startling the two teens. "Hands off my daughter, I don't want you to get her pregnant," he said. After a moment, he added, "again."
Harry and Hermione laughed at that.
"Here we are, the Juvenile Center. Have fun, boy," David said, handing Harry his trunk.
"B-but-- y-y-you were serious?" Harry stuttered.
"No, he's not serious, Harry," Hermione said, joining Harry's side.
"Yes I am, Hermione. I don't care if this boy is famous or not, he is staying here," he said.
"No, dad. Harry is going to stay with us. He did nothing wrong, so it's only fair that he stays with us." Her voice sounded very serious.
"Dad, talk to mum. She'll tell you everything. I swear, there isn't a single bad bone in Harry," she said, smiling at Harry (who was currently tomato red).
"I am bad, Hermione. Just not bad enough to kill someone," Harry said. Saying a bloke wasn't bad was saying something like he liked skipping around and putting flowers in his hair; it made him want to gag.
"Fine, I'll talk to your mother. But, be warned Hermione Granger, one bad thing I hear about this … Harry Potter bloke, and he's off here for the rest of the summer." His voice was stern, making Harry wince slightly.
He took out his mobile and dialed his wife's number. A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione could hear him talking to her mother.
"Hi, honey … yes … Harry Potter bloke … no … really, you don't say … yes … but … (he sighed) yes, dear … but remember, one thing and he's out … okay … love you, too … bye …" He turned around, taking in the grin Hermione was sporting, and said, "Okay, your mother said that he isn't a bad guy. But I have heard some interesting things about you, Potter. I expect you to tell me everything about you at our home."
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and Hermione kept her grin, now holding his hand. He looked at her, wondering why she had done that. Hermione shrugged, grin still plastered, and started walking towards her father, dragging Harry with her.
"Okay, c'mon, I bet mum's already put dinner up."
Harry, who was still bright red, just nodded and got in the car. Hermione slid in next to him, their hands still very much intertwined, and shut the door.
The car ride home was pleasant (at least Mister Granger wasn't glaring at Harry). Hermione still kept their hands intertwined, making Harry's stomach do flips, and occasionally talking about what they were to do over the summer. David, though he wasn't glaring, kept an ear open to listen if the boy had anything bad to say. David still wasn't too sure on Harry, since his uncle said that he threatened to murder, and the things he did in school, the special skills he had, he wasn't too sure if he'd like him to be with his fifteen year old girl. He was a father, after all. He wasn't just going to let any bloke stay in the house with a teenage girl; that just wouldn't be right.
Finally, near twenty minutes later, David announced that they were home. Harry, Hermione, and David all got out of the car. Harry went to get his trunk and then joined Hermione's side.
The house wasn't too small, but it wasn't huge, either. It had a decent sized front lawn, with a small pond in towards the middle. The backyard seems pretty nice, too.
They walked inside and into the living room. David took Harry's trunk and walked upstairs, while Hermione showed Harry around the house. Missus Granger walked in and gasped.
"Well, Harry Potter in the flesh," Hermione's mother said, walking up to Harry and inspecting him. She was about 5'6'' and had brown hair and brown eyes, much like Hermione. "Finally I get to see the boy that my Hermione has been talking about all these years."
"Um … hello, Missus Granger," Harry said, feeling awkward.
"Please, Harry, call me Ann," she said, smiling at the teenage boy.
She looked at him, as if looking for faults; Harry didn't feel comfortable. After a few minutes of "inspecting," as Harry liked to think of it, she finally spoke.
"Well, yes, your clothes are much too large. We'll take you shopping tomorrow. You eyes are wonderful, if I do say so myself. A bit thin, but that could always be fixed. Your hair is unbelievably messy; we'll get you a haircut tomorrow, too. Other then that, you're fine!" She said, embracing Harry. He stiffened at the contact instantly, never having been touched like that by anyone other than Hermione. Missus Granger noticed that, too, and pulled back.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she said.
"No, it's okay. I … just … no one ever hugs me like that other than Hermione. So, I guess, it's just … new," he said.
"Okay," Hermione said, wanting to ease up the tension, "let's eat dinner."
Missus Granger nodded and led them to the dining room, where dinner was already served. Harry and Hermione took a seat next to each other, while Ann and David went to the heads of the table. Harry took some chicken on his plate, as well as some vegetables and mashed potatoes. Hermione took some of the chicken, too, and took some stuffing and vegetables.
"So, Potter--" Hermione's father started, but was cut off by both Hermione and her mother.
"It's Harry," they said.
David rolled his eyes and started again. "Okay, Harry, tell us about yourself. What are your interests? Play any sports? How are your grades? Have you ever gotten detention? Have--"
"Dad!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Hermione, I only want to learn more about this Harry Potter boy. You two know so much about him, and I feel out of the loop. So, Harry, care to talk?" He asked, not affected by his daughter and wife's mutterings.
"Well," Harry started, "I play qudditch."
"He was the youngest player in over a century," Hermione added.
"What is this qudditch?" David asked.
"It's sort of like lacrosse in the air," Harry explained. Hermione's father actually looked interested, so Harry went into full detail about the sport.
After fifteen minutes, Hermione's father spoke again. "So … Ann told me that you stole something when you were eleven. Is that true?"
"Um … well … it was for a good cause," Harry stammered. David just gave a faint `hmmm.'
"Anything else?" he asked, looking at the three of them. "Anything special this boy can do?"
"Yes," Ann said, speaking for the first time, "he can speak to snakes. Hermione told me."
"You told her that?" Harry asked Hermione. She just shrugged.
"Talk to snakes, eh?" he asked.
"Yeah, I and only one other person in Great Britain can talk to snakes," Harry said, grimacing at the thought of only him and Lord Voldemort being parstletounges.
"One other person? Wow, you must feel lucky then," he said.
"Not really, most people think it's a curse. They consider it very dark if you're able to speak to snakes," Harry explained.
"Are you evil?" David asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously.
"No! Never!" he said, clearly offended by being called evil.
"Dad, Harry would never be evil. He has--" Hermione started, but was cut off by a loud `thump' from upstairs.
"Oh, I think that was Catty," Ann said. "She hasn't been feeling well today, I'll tuck her in again." She got up and went upstairs.
"Who's Catty?" Harry asked.
"My sister," Hermione said simply.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a sister?" Harry asked, hurt by the fact that she hadn't told him.
"She's only three, and I didn't think that you'd care much," she said, shrugging it off.
"But I do care, Hermione. Why would you think I wouldn't?" he asked.
Again, she shrugged. "I don't know. Anyway, what are we going to do tomorrow?"
"I think I should make sure that this boy has no weapons," David said at once.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dad, he has nothing that would cause us any harm, really."
David just mumbled something in reply. Hermione looked at Harry once again.
"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" She asked.
"Um, I think that maybe we could just walk around, maybe."
"Okay," she said, going back to her food.
Once they were finished eating. Harry tried to clean up the dishes, but Ann (who had come down just before they finished eating) wouldn't have any of it.
"You're a guest, Harry. You shouldn't be doing this work. Hermione will show you your room," Ann said, getting the dishes.
"Nonsense, Ann. This boy offered, so he should do it. It's only manners," David said, glancing at the raven haired boy.
"No, David. He will not be doing these dishes. Not as long as he is here, he's a guest." Her tone was final, so David said no more, just went into the living room and turned on the television.
Harry walked to Hermione, who was sitting on the couch with Crookshanks. He smiled and walked behind the couch, just hovering above her. He leaned down a bit, his head just barely touching Hermione's shoulder, and smiled.
"So," Harry whispered. Hermione jumped a bit, bit didn't move otherwise. "You going to show me my room?"
"You know, Harry, if I didn't know any better, I would've thought that you were just flirting with me." She turned around, smiling.
Harry grinned. "Maybe I was."
"Smooth, Potter." She winked and Harry laughed. "C'mon, let me show you your room."
She led him upstairs and went for a few doors. "Okay, my parents' room is the one to the left. My sister's room is the one next to theirs. My room is on the right; yours next to mine."
Harry nodded and opened the first door. It had periwinkle walls, with pictures (most of which were her and Harry) hanging on the wall. Her bed, which wasn't that large, was on the top left hand corner, right next to the window. On the window was a potted plant, and next to it was a hat that she had made for the elves. There was a large bookshelf filled with books next to a computer desk with a laptop on it. He smiled, but it was a little to girly for his tastes.
"Harry, wrong door," Hermione said smirking.
"Oh. Thought so," and he chuckled slightly, feeling stupid.
She took his hand, lacing their fingers together. They felt a shock go through each other, but they disregarded that; this was not the time to bring up their feelings for each other. She led him through the door next to hers.
Inside were pale yellow walls. The bed was large, with pastel green and yellow pillows and blanket. There was a dresser with Harry's trunk in front of it, and next to the dresser was a desk with a notebook and pen on it. It was pretty simple, but Harry liked it.
"Nice." He smiled at her, and not thinking for a moment, he kissed her cheek.
Her eyes enlarged for a moment, but then he pulled back, tomato red.
"Um, thanks, for keeping me here," he stated awkwardly.
She, turning red, said, "No problem, Harry. You're my friend." A few moments later, Hermione said, "C'mon, you get settled in and I'll see you tomorrow." She reluctantly let go of his hand, immediately feeling an absence, and walked out, smiling all the while.
Well, she didn't pull back, so I guess kissing her cheek was okay. I think I'll do it again, Harry thought, smiling.
The next day, Harry woke up to a giggling sound. Harry groaned and took his glasses from the bedside table. He glanced at the clock, eight thirty, and thought that it was too early.
"Silly boy," someone said. Harry looked to see who it was; she had short curly brown hair with brown eyes. She was young, around four years old or so, and she had glasses on. Harry figured this was Hermione's sister.
Harry got up, barely registering that he was only in his black boxers, and walked over to the little girl.
"Hi," he said.
"You silly boy," she said, giggling and running into the hallway.
Harry laughed and walked out of the room. He figured that since it was Saturday, no one would be up. He saw the little girl-Catty from what he remembered-and hunkered down to her height.
"Will you carry me?" the little child asked, opening her arms out to Harry.
"Err… sure." He picked her up and balanced her on his hip. "So, what's your name?"
"Catherine Elizabeth Granger," she stated proudly. "I'm four," she said, holding up four fingers. "My buffday is in December!"
"Cool, I'm Harry James Potter." Catherine giggled again. "I'm fifteen years old, and my birthday is in two weeks."
She giggled again. "Silly boy, I know who you are." She saw the face Harry had on and giggled again. "My sissy loves you. Silly sissy likes silly boy," she said.
Harry stood there, shocked. He didn't think Hermione would ever like him, but there Catherine was, saying that she liked him. He liked Hermione a lot, but decided that it'd be too risky asking her out since Voldemort was loose and it posed a greater risk for her. He didn't want to lose her, even if it meant that he had to put his feelings aside. He didn't know when he started liking her, but he was pretty sure that it was around fourth year. She was with him, even when everyone thought that he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire; she was the only one that believed that Harry hadn't, not even Ron believed him.
And at the Department of Mysteries… that was horrible. He could've lost the two most important people to him. Ginny broke her ankle, Luna was mostly unharmed, and Neville wasn't too injured, but he didn't know them that much. But he were to lose them, yes he'd grieve, knowing that it was his entire fault. But if he had lost Ron, Hermione, or Remus (Sirius was out of the question), he'd grieve his whole life. Hermione had nearly lost her life that fateful night. If she had died, he wouldn't know what to do; he'd be lost without her. If he had lost Ron, he would've lost his best mate, and he didn't like the idea of that at all. Remus, he was like his uncle, if he had lost him, the last of the Marauders would've been gone. Then there was Sirius… Poor Sirius died behind the veil. He knew that it was his entire fault. If he had listened to Hermione, Sirius would've been able to live. But, no, he was selfish and thought that Sirius was in trouble, so they went, and Sirius died that night. He'd lost the most important person in his life; his godfather.
Harry felt tears form in his eyes, but he pushed them back. He didn't want Catherine to this that he was a crybaby on top of a `silly boy.'
"Silly boy?" Catty asked. "We go to sissy's room?"
"Um, okay," he said, walking towards Hermione's room. He knocked and heard a muffled `come in' from the other side. He opened the door slowly and walked inside, Catty still in his arms.
"Good morning. I see you've found Catty," Hermione said, walking up to them.
"Yeah, she woke me up," Harry said, smiling at the young child.
"Silly boy let me down," Catty said. Harry let her down and she ran downstairs. Harry and Hermione laughed. After a few minutes, Harry finally registered that he was in nothing but his black boxers. Apparently, Hermione had noticed, too, because she was turning red quickly. Harry looked at her; she was wearing blue sweatpants with a simple black shirt. Her hair was a mess, but he liked that about her hair.
"So, where are your parents?" Harry asked after a minute. Harry still couldn't get the fact that Hermione could like him out of his mind.
"Um, dad is probably still sleeping. I think mum's downstairs cooking breakfast," Hermione said. A few moments later, she said, "Sorry if you wanted to sleep in late, Catty is an early riser."
"I can tell," he muttered.
"How about you take a shower and I'll see you downstairs?" She asked.
"Alright, where's your bathroom?" he asked, hand on the door knob.
"Right next to your room," she said. Harry nodded and opened the door, walking out.
David Granger chose that moment to walk out of his room. He saw Harry exit Hermione's room wearing nothing but boxers. David went into protective father mode and cornered Harry.
"What were you doing in my daughter's room?" He asked, glaring at the boy.
"Um… we… talking," Harry stammered.
Harry wasn't a small boy; he had defined abs from playing qudditch, he was pretty strong (fighting Voldemort and his goons had its perks), and he wasn't that short, either. He was just nearly six feet tall, nearly as tall as the other boys in his year. He just didn't like the idea of being cornered by a man that was nearly twenty-three years older than him, especially when that man was a girl's father.
"Right. I'll be keeping an eye on you, boy." He glared at him, making Harry wince, and walked away into the bathroom.
Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and walked into his room. He took out the same clothes from yesterday (he didn't take any other clothes, he didn't want to take Dudley's hand-me-downs) and sat on his bed, waiting for Mister Granger to get out of the bathroom.
Hermione sat contently on her bed. She couldn't get the picture of Harry out of her mind; the way he looked in those boxers. He certainly wasn't scrawny anymore, and the fact that he had grown nearly a foot had helped, too.
She had kept her feelings bottled up for nearly a year now, for fear of rejection. She knew that Harry wouldn't like her; she was the know-it-all bookworm, the ugly nagging, bossy, S.P.E.W. founder. She knew that Harry would go for someone beautiful. He'd probably go for someone that was athletic, pretty, and popular. She was neither of those three, or at least she thought. If she would've asked him out, she knew he'd say no, so she just took whatever she got, which was friendship.
She heard someone come in and sit next to her.
"Hey," Harry said.
"Hi," Hermione said.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked.
"N-nothing," she stuttered. She wasn't about to tell him about her feelings.
"Okay," he said slowly, not believing her.
"How are you?" she asked, knowing the answer already.
He sighed. He knew that she'd ask sooner or later. He felt the tears form again, but he didn't stop this time, he knew that Hermione wouldn't judge him. "I should've listened to you," he said, barely above a whisper.
"No, Harry. You just--"
"No, listen, Hermione. I should've listened to you, and then Sirius wouldn't have had to die. It was all my fault; it's always my fault," he said, a tear sliding his cheek. Hermione brought her hand up to his cheek and wiped it off.
"Harry, you know that it wasn't your fault. It was Bellatrix's fault; you and I both know it." She felt tears fill up her eyes, too.
"It is my fault, Hermione! It's always my fault! First Cedric, now Sirius! Who's next?!" He said, tears cascading down his cheeks.
She embraced him, knowing that he needed it right now. "Harry, listen to me, none of this is your fault. Okay? None of this is your fault. Cedric died because Wormtail killed him, not you. Sirius died fighting for you," she said, letting the tears fall.
"But if I hadn't told Cedric to get the cup with me, he would've have died. If I listened to you, Sirius would still be here," he said, burying his face in her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"WHAT'S THIS?!" David Granger said. He didn't like this sight at all; his baby's arms were wrapped around the boy (he didn't feel that he was privileged enough to call him by his name yet) and tracing little circles on his back, her face buried in the nape of his neck. His face was buried in the nape of her neck (kissing and sucking it, David thought) and his arms were wrapped around her waist, their bodies nearly molded together.
Harry and Hermione jumped apart. Harry quickly wiped his tears, as did Hermione, and sat (a bit too close for David's liking) next to Hermione.
"I said, what's this?" David asked again, not noticing Harry and Hermione had just wiped off their tears; he was still dwelling on the fact that the boy was nearly on top of his baby girl.
"Um… w-well, you see…" Harry stammered again.
"Dad, stop, Harry and I did nothing disgraceful. Harry and I were just hugging," she said coolly.
He looked at them suspiciously. "Then why is your neck wet? Was he trying to give you a--"
"Dad!" Hermione said, scandalized.
"DAVID! HARRY! HERMIONE! BREAKFAST IS READY!" Ann shouted from downstairs. Harry thought he heard a distant giggling sound, but shrugged it off.
He glared at Harry, again, and said, "Hurry up, don't want Ann to start yelling at us." With that, he left.
"He's never going to like me, is he?" Harry asked after he left.
"I'm not too sure. I've never had a boy over," Hermione said shyly.
"Well," Hermione said after some time, "why don't we go downstairs. Then we can see what we're going to do today."
"Okay," Harry said, going into his room to get his clothes.
First boy over, eh? No wonder why Mister Granger is such a nightmare. I just hope I don't end up in those handcuffs again, Harry thought shuddering.Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7