Title: Fidelity, Part One of Twelve: Returning Home

Author: Gryffindor

A/N: Alright, this is my first fanfic, so if it's horrible, I'm sorry. Reviews would be nice, so... go ahead and read and tell me what you think. And hey, tell me who you want whoever to end up with. :)

Disclaimer: All characters and places (except London, of course) belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling (J.K Rowling). The character/name Jonathan is from Tamora Pierce's books. (Alanna, Immortals, etc.)

Plot: Harry is depressed at the Dursley's, Draco joins his father's plot to bring Voldemort back to power, and Hermione moves into the Weasley's for the summer.

Rating: PG-13 for language. That's all.

---

Harry reluctantly climbled into the backseat of his uncle's company car. Relieved to see that he and Uncle Vernon were alone in the car, Harry's spirits were so low that he didn't even enjoy the half-quiet ride home. He began to wonder how his summer would be; no doubt awful with Voldemort loose again, after him. With any luck, Harry thought, I'll still be alive when school starts up again.

"Did you have a good year?" Uncle Vernon asked, quietly and hesitantly.

"What?" Harry was sure he had heard his uncle wrong; he'd never care about Harry's school or, for that matter, anything to do with Harry.

"Did you have a good year?" Vernon repeated slowly. "At school."

"Uh.. yeah, I guess." Harry was amazed at his uncle's sudden interest. Must be the Ton-Tounge toffees. He laughed to himself. Quickly turning his laugh into a sorrowful sigh, Harry looked out the window. It was a gloomy day in Surrey, despite the fact that summer was in full rage. Harry could relate to the weather perfectly, his feelings matched the tone of the gloomy sky. Hoping his summer would be more relaxing then his school year, a very high hope indeed, Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, ready to dream.

---

Draco was greeted by a sulky, unhappy looking man.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy, welcome home," the man droned in monotone. Draco didn't reply. Sweeping silently into the dim lit entryway, he scanned the area intently.

"Where is my father?" he asked emotionlessly.

"He is out with friends, sir."

Draco sighed angrily. Of course he is.

"What about my mother?" Draco asked, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

"She is in the dining room, I believe. Shall I tell her you've returned?"

"No," Draco replied quickly. "Don't say anything to her."

He nodded. "As you wish."

"I'll be in my room," Draco finished, regaining his icy attitude. Picking up his cloak, he tapped down the hallway, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. Damn.

---

Harry dragged his trunk into the house, his muscles still aching from the tasks at Hogwarts. Spotting Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the kitchen, he began to heave the trunk upstair, as quickly as possible.

"Hello, Harry. How are you?" Aunt Petunia asked fakely, supressing a rather pathetic smile. Harry stopped pulling on his trunk handle.

"Fine," he said, blankly. His aunt nodded polietly and went back to her dirty dishes. Harry shook his head and started pulling the trunk the rest of the way up, and into his bedroom. The bed was made, the room tidy and neat. Most of Dudley's old things had been cleared out, so Harry had a lost more space. He decided to give the loose floorboard a break this summer, and keep all his Hogwarts stuff on the shelves, guessing his aunt and uncle wouldn't mind. At least I'll die with a spacey room, he thought miserably, as he sat down onto his cold deskchair. He opened his trunk and searched around it, until he found his quill and scroll, and he pulled them out. Dear Ron.

---

Hermione opened the backdoor to the Burrow, a wide grin plastered onto her rosy face.

"Ron! Ginny!" she called out. Hearing footsteps, she closed the door and put her bag down.

"Hermione!" Ginny screamed happily, hugging Hermione tightly. "What— What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Ron tell you I was coming?" Ginny shook her head. Before Hermione could reply, Ron swooped in.

"Hermione, hey! I forgot you were coming." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Did you even tell mom about her, you mindless git?" Ginny fooled.

"I think.." Hermione shook her head. Ron smiled. "Of course I did, Herm."

Hermione blushed and Ron, seeing her blush, began to blush, too. Ginny giggled. Ron pulled out a glass from the cupboard, and poured himself a glass of fruit punch.

"So, how are you? What have you done so far, over the summer?" Ron asked, sipping his juice and eyeing Hermione. She looks a lot prettier than she use to.. She sat down sheepishly, and began telling Ron and Ginny about her trip to Bora-Bora with her parents. She kept blushing whenever Ron smiled at her. He turned away, however, looking uninterested, when she mentioned the two weeks she had spent in Bulgaria with Viktor Krum. She didn't exactly enjoy the time she spent there, either. Viktor had tried to take advantage of her after their 'romantic' dinner at a bar filled with drunk, horny, trashy Bulgarians. Of course, Hermione, who didn't even really like Viktor, just threw a fit, slapped him, and left the next morning. She wasn't about to tell them about the whole incident; they would go on and on and on about what a bastard Viktor Krum was, and she didn't feel like spending her whole summer talking about him. By the time she finished explaining about her unexciting summer, all of them had eaten some kidney pie and gulped down a cup or two of fruit punch.

"How has your summer been? Have you heard from Harry?" Hermione asked Ron with interest.

"He got a letter from him a month or so ago, right after school let out. Ron, go get it for her," Ginny ordered, her mouth full of meat. Ron bowed fakely, and rushed out of the kitchen, returning seconds later with a roll of parchment. He handed it to Hermione, who unrolled it, and began reading.

Ron,
I'm expecting life at the Dursley's this summer to be splendid. My aunt and uncle seem to have lightened up a bit; I'm guessing they're still afraid of what happened last summer with Dudley and the Ton-Tounge toffees.

Hermione smiled, remembering the trouble Fred and George had gotten into afterwards. She dived back into the letter.

Is Hermione still going to stay with you for awhile? It would be nice to visit you, and her, if it's possible. I'm pretty sure this summer with the Muggles will indeed be better than ever before, but I don't want to go the whole summer without seeing you guys.
I expect to be dead by the end of the summer holidays, if I'm lucky. (Cheery new subject, right?) Voldemort won't giva up easily, and I'm begginning to wonder about that protection around here that has kept me safe all these years, and what it is. Dumbledore mentioned a Figg when he was talking to Sirius. It made me think of an old lady who lives two streets away, on Hampton Ave. She use to watch me when the Dursley's didn't want me to go someplace with them, and I'm wondering if she might be the protection. I'm going to go visit her tomorrow, if I can. Maybe I'll find some answers.
Give your family my regards. Tell Fred and George to keep me updated with their joke shop; it's the least they can do after I gave them all that money! (They told you about it, right?)

Harry

"Poor Harry," Hermione thought out loud. "Has he written anything else to you?" Ron shook his head in reply.

"I've tried writing to him a lot, but he hasn't replied."

Hermione sighed. "Maybe something is wrong.. maybe You-Know-Who had gotten to him.. Ron—" she looked at Ron, her eyes full of panic.

"It would be all over the Daily Prophet if Harry was killed, Herm. And don't worry, mum said that he didn't reply to this letter, then we could go get him again." He shrugged. Hermione relaxed a bit. Ron's probably right, she thought, I have no reason to worry. Ginny noticed Ron's uneasy glance at the floor, and bit her lip.

---

Draco yawned. His father's 'important' meetings weren't exactly what he would choose to spend his whole summer attending, but he knew there would be hell to pay if he told his father that he'd rather not attend. Most of the time they would just talk about how wonderful Lord Voldemort was and how he would bring them all power. Tonight, however, Draco was interested in what his father's friends were talking about: Harry Potter.

"Our Master knows where the boy is, but he is protected by an unknown source. He has finally found out how to get past that. Lucius," McNair finished, turning to Draco's father. "I'll need your help with this part of the plan."

"Of course, McNair. What do I need to do?" Lucius asked, dripping with eagerness.

"We'll need your son."

---

Harry ventured over to Mrs. Figg's late that afternoon, and tapped on the door, twice, and waited. It was a rainy, cold day, and Harry was begginning to shiver. His walk over from the Dursley's was a short walk, but cold none the less. The door suddenly creaked open, and a low, crackly voice emerged.

"Harry? Is that you again? Come in.. you'll catch your death out there.." Arabella Figg opened the door completely, revealing herself, and old lady with a mad expression on her face, despite the fact that she was smiling. Harry quietly walked into the house, and was greeted with the familar smell of cabbage. He took off his black cloak, which he usaully wouldn't have worn, but it was freezing outside, and the Dursley's had never gotten him anything warm to wear. He followed Mrs. Figg into the dining room, where she sat down on one side of the table and poured some tea. Harry took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"So, Harry, what brings you here again?" the old lady said quietly. "In some kind of trouble, are we?"

Harry smiled. "No, unless you count that Voldemort is trying to kill me and the Dursley's are being too ruddy nice."

"What's the trouble with that?"

"They're never nice... they detest me. This summer... they seem to care."

"You don't like that?"

"No, I do, but... it just doesn't seem right."

"I see. Do you like your tea, Harry?"

"What? Oh, yes, it's fine." Arabella smiled.

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked, setting down his tea.

"Arabella, dear." She replied, politely.

"Arabella... are you my protection? Dumbledore said something about a Figg, when he was talking to Sirius Black. He's my—"

"Godfather, I know." She smiled. "Harry, have you ever wondered why Dumbledore brought you to your aunt and uncles?"

"Of course, they're my only living relatives."

"So maybe they're the protection for that reason... ?" Harry shrugged. The thought had never occured to him.

"Are they? It doesn't seem like awful people like them could be my protection against the Dark Lord."

"Then why wouldn't Dumbledore just leave you with your protection?"

"I don't know." He frowned. "I just want to know what my protection in Surrey is."

"Well, I think it's pretty safe to tell you that your protection is a Figg, but not me." She smiled again. "My son is a wizard, you know. He graduated from Hogwarts fives years ago. Before he graduated, I was your protecter. I've gotten too old, so he took my job."

"Does he live here?" Harry asked curiously, quickly eyeing the kitchen, as if he suspected someone to suddenly pop out of a cupboard.

"No, he lives in London. A mile or so away from King Cross Station, actually."

"What's his name?"

"Jonathan." She sighed.

"Jonathan.. hm. How does he protect me if he isn't even around?"

"He comes here every other year to check on you, and he does his mumbo jumbo magic protection thing." She smiled.

Harry sipped his tea, deep in thought. "Can I, um, tell my friends?"

"If you want. Do you need something out of your trunk?"

"I might need a piece of parchment and a quill. Can I go get them?" She nodded. Harry got up and walked over to her closet.

---

"Remember why you're going, Draco," Lucius warned his son. "I don't want you fooling around while you're there. You know the plan, and you have to follow it—"

"Yes, I know, so you can shut the hell up," Draco replied calmly, fastening the clasp to his cloak.

His father laughed and walked out. Draco didn't notice. Where would Potter be? He wondered. At his aunt and uncle's, where the protection is? Probably not, he spends all his time with the Weasel. Damn. The boy shook his head. Why am I doing this? I don't even work for Voldemort. He was still for a moment, and then he sighed. Without anymore hesitation or thought, he picked up his broom, walked out the hall, through the door, and swept away into the dark, damp sky.

---

Hermione turned off the water, and became instantly cold. Her hand slinked around the door of the shower and clasped onto a puffy, white towel. Getting out, she wrapped it around her body and held it under her arms, then began working some of her personalized hair straightener into her bushy brown hair. After slipping a bit of her makeup on, just for a wake-up call, she slid out into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Opening the refridgerator, she pulled out the pumpkin juice, and pouring herself a glass, noticed the most recent issue of Witch Weekly. Walking over to the table, she picked up the magazine, and—

BANG!

The backdoor of the Burrow burst open, revealing a shadowed figure, lightened by the lightning and mysteriously enhanced by the thunder. Hermione screamed and dropped her towel and glass, starteld. The figure walked through the door, revealing themself (and revealing Hermione).

"Oh. My. God." Draco and Hermione said together, all four eyes wide with shock.

---

Ack. :) Please review. Thanks.