Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

Hermione Granger gazed out the window, the thirteen-year-old girl willing away the time so that hours would pass and she would be one day closer to returning to the world she had been introduced to only years prior. London, in and of itself, was an amazing place but when placed against something extraordinary, it paled in comparison.

With her parents currently at work, Hermione had been left alone in good faith that she wouldn't do anything reckless. The letters that she wrote to her parents had told them of the great times she spent with her friends at Hogwarts but omitted the parts in which her life and the lives of her friends had been in mortal peril. Whilst exhilarating to say the least, these were days that she rather put behind her, lest she found herself in jeopardy of never returning to where her friends were located. A single worry from her parents and she feared that she would never be able to study in the Gryffindor common room again or see her friends.

Friends that didn't exist in London.

Hermione's parents fully believed that their daughter would be waiting for them to return, they were fully aware that the young girl had never breached into any social circles and had spent most of her time as a child in the library. The outside world wasn't one that had appeased to Hermione yet they had been thrilled that their daughter had something wonderful flowing through her veins, something that they had had to keep secret from everybody else. Whenever friends came to visit and would question where Hermione was, they would answer that she was doing very well at a prestigious school for gifted children.

Of course the people asking about Hermione were friends of the family, not friends of Hermione herself.

Hermione shook herself away from the thoughts that clouded her mind as she walked away from the window, no longer wishing to gaze upon the same view she had from day to day. She wished that she knew a spell to make time pass quicker, turn seconds into minutes so that this day would pass and she would be free once more to study what few in London would believe existed.

Slumping onto the sofa, her fingers graced across a magazine that her mother had brought back from the clinic. While the intellectual girl had already read every book contained within the dwelling, including the textbooks necessary for her next year's study that she had had delivered within the week the second year ended, she had avoided magazines like the plague.

The girl couldn't fathom why people depended on the gossip of celebrities or make-up tips from someone they'd likely never meet to get by from day to day. The mere thought of looking into one of these pieces of 'literature,' a term Hermione used lightly for such articles, had once forced bile to her throat. Considering she had been away from media for so long she didn't even know the man on the cover which the magazine proclaimed 'Sexiest Summer Bod.' Whether it was an actual celebrity or a model she couldn't tell the difference, none of them actually looked appealing to her.

Hermione was violently thrust out of her musings by a loud bang on the window which forced her to feet. Part of her wished that she had her wand on her as opposed to having it locked away in her trunk, but she knew that it would do no good other than a threat since she wasn't permitted to use magic outside of school until she graduated.

Pausing for a moment, she found herself looking at a sight nobody would usually come across in daytime London as a raggedy gray owl composed itself after having crashed into the window. It took a handful of seconds before Hermione's face became a beacon of joy merely on the prospect of someone she knew having spent the time and effort into writing to her, by owl no less. If the brown haired witch could put the sensation into a word, the closest she could come up with in her vocabulary was 'giddy.'

Rushing to the window she opened it and allowed the owl inside, molting feathers littering the carpet as the creature perched itself on the living room table. Closing the window, Hermione quickly ran to the kitchen and scrambled through the draws for a bowl which she filled with water. While she wanted to see who the message was from, she knew that the owl would be famished from such a long journey considering those she knew would write to her were located nowhere near the vicinity of her house.

Needless to say, the owl was grateful for the water and a plate with a couple of biscuits which her mother would usually have with her morning cup of tea. With the replenishments being distributed, Hermione untied the letter from the owl (whom she would ask the name of in the return as she didn't want to relate to the bird simply as 'the owl' for much longer than she had to) and unscrolled it. The first thing she noticed that the handwriting was neat, immediately ruling out Ron as the possible culprit of sending her the letter. Having asked her to go over his notes prior to exams for the past two years she was familiar with the ginger's handwriting and this, by all means, was not it. The other main culprit could have been Harry but Hermione was much more familiar with Hedwig, the snowy white owl that she was familiar with as opposed to the elderly gray owl sitting before her. It didn't take a genius to know that the two were different and thus Harry was not the culprit either.

Sadly that then reduced the number of people she could think that would write to her significantly.

Swallowing a lump that she hadn't realized had formed within her throat, Hermione drove into the letter with the speed and dedication that she would a textbook. The contents though made her pause only into the second sentence before she blinked a handful of times and returned to the start of the parchment, deliberately slowing herself down this time round.

Dear Hermione,

I know this may seem unusual but I had nowhere else to turn with this matter as I do not trust my mother with this topic, as I do not want her spreading rumors, so I pestered my brother for your location until he gave it to me. Sadly though in exchange for your address I am forced to do his washing for the next week.

I write to you today looking at the number of crumpled up pieces of paper that overflow from my trash can to the point I wish I knew a spell to burn them all. Over and over again I tried to figure out how to ask the question so I'm sorry if this comes out terribly and if you choose to ignore this letter, just send Errol on his way.

I write to you today about Harry Potter.

I don't want to know about his history but more so about him as a person, from your perspective. I could ask my brothers but I know that they'll only tease me on the matter.

You see, the thing is, I don't quite know how I feel about him. He saved my life and for that I am forever grateful but how does one go about showing their gratitude especially considering it was such a big thing. I mean I can't really just go up to him and say thanks, can I? What can I do?

Hopefully you can understand why I don't approach my family on the subject, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Ginny Weasley

It was a rare occurrence for Hermione Granger to be at a loss for words, especially when she had been asked for advice. The topic though was one she wasn't even sure she could study and thus she had no answers at the time to send to the youngest Weasley.

Errol squaked at her, breaking Hermione out of her temporary slump (though she was glad that the owl's name was included in the letter), the plate in front of it having been emptied of all of the cat treats. Hermione mildly giggled at the irony of the situation as she got off of the sofa and picked up the kitchenware determined to fill it up once more while she composed her response.

The seemingly mundane task had brought Hermione back into action as she looked at the situation in front of her like an incredible challenge that one of her teacher's had assigned for her to answer. Unlike most of the questions the wizarding world threw at her, she had no textbooks to consult or library to rummage through.

This would be on her and her alone.

Briefly returning to the living room and depositing the treats in front of Errol she went to her room to retrieve a blank piece of parchment. She momentarily contemplated writing her reply in ink but chose against it, instead gathering a pencil and an eraser as she had the feeling that she would be redoing some lines in order to put in very 'select' wording.

Returning to the living room her eyes glazed across the sofa once more where her mother's magazine was. Pausing mid step, she believed that she had just found something that she could use as a reference, or at least she hoped there was an article inside that would kick start her reply.

Thus it was at this hour that Hermione Granger did the unthinkable as she picked up the women's magazine and dove into content inside.

...

The Burrow was never short of excitement during the school holidays, although Ginny found herself ambling about and trying not to get on the bad side of her brothers. Percy was always locked away in his room and her mother didn't want the youngest child 'disturbing' the prefect. Fred and George were always doing their thing, driving the rest of the family up the wall with their antics. Thankfully the two boys tended to leave her alone so she merely watched from the sidelines giggling along and hoping that she didn't become their target.

Ron was the best to play with as while he was still a year older he was much a child like herself. It had been easy to pry the information regarding where Hermione lived from her brother, she merely had had to sit through a handful of Wizard Chess games which she had learned that she was terrible at.

Ginny had sought out to write to Hermione for several reasons, the first and foremost being that for a majority of the previous schooling year she had not been herself by any means. Possessed and toyed with by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had isolated her from the rest of the first years who had avoided her, with good reason in hindsight. There were potential friendships there she had squandered due to the diary of the most evil man on the planet and she was unsure whether she'd ever be able to make up for lost time. Ron had let it slip at one point that outside of himself and Harry, he'd never seen Hermione really bond with anyone in a manner that most would relate to as friendship.

Thus Ginny had reached out to Hermione, hoping that the older and smarter girl would be able to help her with the problems she had been having.

The information she had put into her letter had been incredibly personal and she hoped that Hermione would understand the honesty she had put into it. Needless to say she hadn't shown her mother what she had written so she had little doubt that her writing had been full of grammatical errors and general parts that made little to no sense. She merely prayed that her meaning would get through.

Her failed attempts had been disposed of as soon as she had sent Errol on his way, the last thing she wanted was for her mother to come into her room for cleaning purposes to find out about her mental struggles. Molly Weasley wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets and the last thing Ginny wanted was for the local community to discover that she had a crush on her brother's best friend; a best friend who was also a celebrity in his own right.

From the fragmented memories she had of the year she could always recall Harry's smile and infectious laugh, as if just being himself was able to help her temporarily break out of the trance the diary had her under. Was there something about him that just drove away He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named much like how he had survived the killing curse as an infant?

Pure speculation aside there was also the plain as day fact that a boy of twelve years old had killed a sixty foot Basilisk and destroyed the captivation diary whilst rescuing her, a job he shouldn't have been doing in the first place. Yet he had put his very life at risk in an attempt to protect hers just because he could. He should never have needed to do that for her, frankly the school should have been closed town the moment the petrifications began but she was beginning to digress.

Ever since she had been rescued she had no idea what to think of Harry. She was grateful by all means but she had no idea how to repay her gratitude. A very familiar thud caused her attention to shift to the nearby window where Errol had just crashed into. Before her mother could even ponder who had sent them mail, Ginny had rushed to the family pet and snagged the letter off of it's leg, giving the owl a quick scratch behind the ear for doing good work.

She could hear her mother call out but she paid it little attention as she rushed up the stairs towards her room, not daring to open up the rolled up parchment in her hand until she was hidden away. She was quite aware of her immature behaviour and she merely prayed that her mother wouldn't bring up the topic and respect her personal life.

Closing the door behind her, Ginny allowed several seconds to pass, ensuring that there was no sound of anybody coming up to her room at that moment in time. Once feeling secure, she opened up the parchment and ignored foremostly what the writing was written in as she focused solely on the content.

Little did either girl realize the ramifications these things would have on a future that even the greatest of seers couldn't predict.

...

This is my first time writing a Harry Potter story so I hoped you enjoyed.

Til next time, peace.