"Hon, why don't you go out," Hermione's mum said, looking worriedly at the bushy brown-haired girl sitting in the middle of the Granger's gigantic livingroom. "Uh-huh," Hermione answered absentmindedly, her eyes glued to the muggle television show, Oprah.
"Hermione, you didn't even hear a word I said!" her mum squeaked, stamping her foot on the linoleum floor.
"Uh-huh."
"Hermione Granger!" the television went black.
"Muuum! I was watching that!" Hermione whined, arms flailing for the remote.
"No! You've been watching reruns of Oprah for a week now! What has gotten into you?" Hermione's mum demanded, her eyebrows meeting so close it formed a unibrow.
Hermione sighed, standing up angrily. She had been thinking about Harry for the past few weeks, worrying that his isolation from the wizard world might lead to insanity...or worse... Hermione shuddered... suicide. Ever since Sirius had died, Harry had changed a lot. His letters weren't the same; sometimes they'd only contain a sentence or two.
"Young lady, I am talking to you! Don't you ignore me!" Hermione's mum said persistently. She had an annoying way of talking that made Hermione want to throw her out the bloody window of their two story castle. Thank God she wasn't one of those people who liked to work out at the Wizard Weight Watcher gym, otherwise she would've done it weeks ago.
A look of dawning comprehension filled her mother's eyes as she stared at her daughter.
"Ohhh, I understand. It's Harry, isn't it sweetie? You miss your boyfriend?"
Hermione grimaced at her mum.
"Mum, he's not my boyfriend! I'm just...worried about him, that's all."
"Awww, well, don't worry, I'll call your father first thing, and we'll set something up nice and special for you and your boyfriend. You've obviously been under so much stress..." Her mum rambled on, walking into their spacious kitchen.
"He's not my boyfriend!" Hermione yelled back, leaping up the spiral carpeted stairs to her room. Good God, this is what I get for having muggles for parents. They have no idea how insane the wizard world is getting... Hermione threw open her bedroom door to find a dismal Crookshanks lying on her bed. Her cat seemed to be in the same mood she was. She let her hand rest on Crookshank's furry orange head for a moment before going to her window to open the curtains.
It was pitch black outside; there were no stars to be seen tonight, for they were all hidden by the ominous clouds that hovered over her neighborhood. Nearby Hermione could hear the pounding of music from next door playing The Weird Sisters. It was going to be a long summer.
Hermione collapsed on her bed, careful that she didn't smother her cat.
For a while she lay there, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. She wondered what Harry was doing right now. She hoped that he was still alive.
Harry sat in silence as usual at the Dursley dinner table. The scraping of forks and spoons could be heard throughout the room as the Dursleys engaged in a conversation about which college Diddykins would be attending in the near future. Harry had to choke down a few laughs, cautiously making sure Dudley didn't see the expression on his face. He could never imagine Dudley attending college at all, let alone the University of London!
"Our son," Uncle Vernon smiled proudly, "almost grown up and ready to start a new life!"
Tears rose in Aunt Petunia's beady eyes. "My little Dudley! I can't believe how time flies," she sighed, dabbing her face with a napkin.
Please excuse me before I puke, Harry thought, trying not to snort porkchops out of his nose. He was having a hard time breathing now.
"Before you know it, he'll be moving out of the house, and getting married-"
Harry couldn't take it anymore. His shoulders shook violently, releasing a wheezy laugh that made the whole table quiver.
Uncle Vernon immediately turned purple, his vein beginning to pulsate wildly.
"I say, boy, what is so funny!" he growled, baring his teeth like a dog.
Just as quickly as it started, Harry's laughing ceased.
"Nothing," he answered quickly, looking down at his almost empty plate.
"Why don't we have a boxing party after dinner," Dudley suggested, getting up from the table.
"Harry can be my punching bag!"
Aunt Petunia saw the malicious look in Dudley's bulging eyes as he was getting ready to leap across the table.
"Vernon!" She screamed.
But it was too late. Dudley had flew midair, his right hand extended in a fist, aiming towards Harry's glasses.
If it weren't for his quick reflexes, he would've been knocked unconscious for the whole summer. Luckily he had managed to duck, leaving Dudley to fall, creating a big THWACK! on Petunia's new Parisian dining table. For a moment all was quiet with Harry backed against the wall, and Petunia and Vernon still at their places, mouths wide open.
Dudley was still lying smack dab on the center of the table, hand out in front of him. Then before they knew it, there was a loud ripping sound, and, to Petunia's horror her shiny new table was cut in half, bringing Dudley and the wine glasses and porceline plates crashing down along with him.
Harry didn't even need to be told. "I'll be in my room," he said to the frozen Dursley family as he stepped over the broken glass and chipped wood. Finding it hard to keep a straight face, he looked back at the comedic scene before skipping the few steps up to Dudley's bedroom.