Disclaimer: If logic is applied, then it is more than reasonable for one to comprehend that by no means do I ever intend to take property ownership of either the legal allowances, or the intellectual property known as the Harry Potter universe. If this same logic is applied with the knowledge that such a venture would be blatantly impossible in the first place, one should be directly able to extrapolate that neither have I ever implied ownership, or attempted to take ownership of the above properties. Furthermore, it would be sensible to determine that by posting works typed by my own hands on a website labeled "fan fiction", that I never intend a monetary gain. The fact that disclaimers are required is simply bollocks.

A/N: Nope, I haven't disappeared. My personal life is going bonkers so I'm quite literally holding back the tentacles of insanity. I do hope that the quality of this chapter is not adversely impacted.

**SN**

Conclusions that should have been obvious to Harry years ago finally seeped in to his mind while he watched the change in his relatives after he was dropped off at Number 4. All three of them had simpered and smiled when interacting with the Jacobs as if being a part of the country club was equivalent to having the opportunity to sit on the queen's right side during a speech. As the only security he had drove away, the Dursleys turned on him, determining that he had used his freakishness on the Jacobs to make them think he was a good boy. Fortunately for him, the Dursleys couldn't do anything to him tonight since they knew the Jacobs would be seeing him the next day.

Factoring in his uncle's inability to manage his temper, Harry thought he had done rather well of feigning appreciation when Steven had told Vernon that Harry would be joining them for the welcome the following evening in a suit that he and his wife would rent for him. Only after his protectors had left did Vernon lay in to him about that as well, telling Harry how not only did he deserve to be flayed for this, but that ruining their night with his freaky ways would earn him the cupboard again. Throughout the entire bellow-fest, Harry kept his mouth shut, not trusting himself not to respond with scathing remarks.

The understanding that his relatives were pathetic was the only thing that helped him in this. Before he had always thought them just fake, cruel on the inside and pleasant to those they wished to impress. However he now saw the façade for what it was. His uncle and aunt were pathetic.

The foundation of their social and professional success was based solely upon what they had managed to pull together through lies and altered personalities. How they had made it this far, he was unsure; yet Harry now understood that ultimately if they continued on the same path, everything would come crumbling down around them in the end. This was not a revelation that gave him joy. If anything it only made him want to pity them their inability to recognize the power of authenticity.

What he hadn't been expecting from them though was their idea of fair play.

"So, since you're determined to ruin our night tomorrow, and since you won't be around all day boy, you can do your chores tonight."

It took a moment for that to process, then, "What?"

"Yes, you get to do all your chores tonight. It doesn't take much energy to get fitted for a suit, so if you haven't slept much then you shouldn't be having any difficulty."

"But that's insane!"

"I'll tell you what's insane boy!" His uncle's face was deepening to purple, and Dudley was watching with growing smugness. "What's insane is your damn freakishness destroying our lives at every turn! Well, I'll tell you something, I'm not having it. If you want to cause problems, you have consequences. Weed the garden, prune the roses, clean the kitchen. Do your chores. And if you wake any of us up, or use any light whatsoever, I'll have your hide and you'll find out just how comfortable that cupboard is. Hear me?"

Harry clenched his fists, trembling. Oh how badly he wanted to take out his wand right now. This wasn't anything knew, in reality, this was just more of the same. However, either Uncle Vernon had been lightening up over the last few years, or he had just been following directions better, but this pettiness hadn't been as prevalent of late. It made him feel like a child again. And it made him angry.

But there was truly nothing for it. Either do as he was told or something even worse would happen. Perhaps if he got the chores done quickly enough he could catch some sleep.

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

"Good. Now, get to it, and don't you dare make a noise."

Right, because that was possible.

His toils began soon enough, and the only thing that kept him from breaking half his relatives things was the thought of Hermione telling him to "Ignore them. Just ignore them Harry." As she had said during fourth year. It kept him sane, and probably alive.

**SN**

"I can't believe you don't want to go tonight Hermione. Your aunt Tracy was so excited to know you'd be around and able to go."

Hermione was currently sitting very still and outwardly relaxed while her mother brushed her hair in preparation for the dinner for the new members of uncle Steven's country club. Outwardly she was relaxed because in part she truly was; but inwardly, she held a deep-seated worry for her best friend. That friend who could do anything, that friend who was oh so vulnerable during the summer. So vulnerable and so alone.

Her mother brushing her hair was the only thing that relaxed her during the long summers when she was otherwise consumed with worry for Harry. He had mentioned offhandedly to her once how his aunt had always tried to cut his hair, but it had grown back over night, but otherwise it never agreed with what he wanted. She had not responded in kind at the time because it had seemed so minimal, but this was one thing that made her feel all the more connected with him. Normally her own hair was untamable short of being doused in liberal amounts of hair solution and potions. All in all it wasn't overly healthy to her hair health. The one thing that had always caused her magic to manipulate her hair in agreement was her mother's attentions.

Ruth Granger had missed out on the curly hair, Hermione receiving it from her father. Therefore her mom took what opportunities she could to brush it. Somehow, without her truly understanding it, when Ruth Granger brushed Hermione's hair, it always came out in flowing waves rather than an even frizzier mess than normal. Something about her magic approved and she wasn't going to complain. If it brought her closer to Harry, then it was even more important for it.

"I'm just worried mum. I don't really want to talk about it." Which was a lie since it was more or less that she couldn't talk about it.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I just don't mum."

"And if I promise not to tell your father?"

"Still no mum."

The brushing slowed. "That bad huh?"

"No, it's just, it's not the right time."

"Oh?"

"Correct."

"Hmmmmmmm."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, how about this. You know how when I asked where babies came from when I was six and you told me I wasn't ready, but then you gave me the talk when I was old enough to handle it?"

"Mhmm."

"Well it's like that."

"So I'm not ready to hear something?"

"Right."

"Are you pregnant?"

Hermione began spluttering with indignation. "What? No, never. Absolutely not. How could you think that?"

"Because you told me I am not ready to hear something then compared it to the talk about babies. Just drawing conclusions sweetheart."

She glowered but settled back down. "Fine, tell you what, I'll tell you, but you can't tell daddy."

"Why?"

"Because I've been lying to both of you for years and I promised I'd never lie to either of you."

"Sweetie, if you never lied to us we would wonder what went wrong. Everyone lies. The question is why and how damaging it is when the truth comes out."

"Yes well." Why did it have to be so hard to tell the truth? "Promise?"

The brushing resumed its measured pace and her mother sighed behind her.

"If you wish. As long as it's not earth shattering or anything."

"Um." Yeah, her mother's quip was probably more truth than she thought. "Okay. So, you know those stories I tell to Martin and Sarah when we visit?"

"Yes, they love them. It's adorable how they call you auntie Read, it's like they're picking on you, but they're not."

She rolled her eyes again out of view of her mother. "Yes, well. The stories are true."

"Yes."

"And Harry Potter is the hero."

"Harry… Nope, never heard of him."

"Muuuuum."

"Yes of course I've heard of him. He might as well be married to you for all we know of him. Has there been one letter without his name in it?"

"No, but that's not the point."

"Oh then what is?"

"I told you. The stories I tell them are true, and Harry is the green-eyed hero."

This time the brushing halted abruptly.

"You mean, you're serious. Those stories about demons and giant bloody snakes are real?"

"Uh, yes?"

"And Harry's the hero?"

"Yes?"

"And you're not dating him?"

"Muuuuuuum."

"What, I have to have my daughter's best interests at heart now don't I?"

"Yes, but what about the stories. Aren't you mad I kept that from you?"

"Sweetie, you did and you didn't. Besides you're obviously alright so far. As for the future that's different, but for now you're safe and I can have a heart attack later. After we discuss why you aren't dating Harry."

"Muuum, that's not the point."

"It is now. So, why don't you want to go again?"

At least the discussion was sort of on track.

"Well, he lives with his relatives during the summer and they're really awful to him. I always worry that he'll be alright."

"You don't think he can take care of himself?"

"I know he can. But he can't use magic during the holidays and they're really mean to him. When he comes in at the start of term he's always really thin, like he hasn't eaten much."

"Ah, I see."

"And his clothes don't fit him very well."

"Ah."

"And he used to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs until he was eleven."

"Oh goody, more future jailbirds."

"Mum?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"You okay?"

"No love, but again, I can have a heart attack later and can go after those child abusing assholes when we're not getting prettied up for dinner."

"Uh, okay. Well, so that's why I don't want to go, I hate that I'm going to a nice dinner and he's probably stuck in his room somewhere not getting fed."

"That makes sense, of course. But you can't know for sure and you can't remove happiness from your life because certain other people struggle to find it in their own. How about this. Tomorrow we'll go pay Harry a visit, you can ask him out, and we'll call Child Services on his relatives. Sound like a plan?"

"Um, okay?"

"Good, now buck up, we're going to dance after dinner."

That had been the strangest conversation she had ever had with her mother; and that was including "The Talk".

**SN**

If there was anything to make a girl feel a bit better about a situation, it was getting a new dress out of the deal. After having her hair straightened by her mother's brush and her own magic, Hermione had donned the deep pink dress they had bought just for this occasion. She had at first planned to refit her dress from the Yule Ball, but her mother had shaken her head muttering about how even the overly intelligent girls were supposed to enjoy getting new shiny things to wear. Hermione had to admit that it was an appealing prospect, and had shut her mouth after that.

As it were, walking in to the country club in a pair of heels and her new dress, Hermione admittedly felt a little better about everything. Her worries about Harry turned to her wishing he could see her like this, and wondering if he would even really care to. Yes she liked him, but that didn't mean he liked her that way in return. It was clear however, that many of the other teenagers in the building, did, appreciate the sight. Stupid boys, it was probably the cleavage. And she had to admit to herself as they began greeting other guests, that walking in heels was a lot easier than she had been told it was. Bunch of babies, why couldn't everyone find it this easy? Well perhaps it was the mathematical understanding that if pressure was applied to the heel, then the shaft could not snap because direct downward weight was exactly what they were designed to handle. Unless someone was a massive cow of course. Trusting the damn things was 75% of the job and being able to alter one's gait was the rest.

Hurray for woman points!

She, her mother and father negotiated their way through the dining area, greeting friends and acquaintances, most of whom had never met Hermione. This of course put her in a position to have to accept plenty of appreciation for her looks; a subject that she was still a bit unsure of, though numerous strangers choosing to directly compliment the matter when they didn't have to did help. So she graciously received their compliments and eagerly approached the table when it came in to sight.

Then she froze.

Her Uncle Steven was standing beside a family, chatting with them amiably about how pleased he was to have them joining the club. The problem was that she recognized the family.

The Dursleys.

What the hell?

Her mother bumped in to her from behind at Hermione's sudden stop.

"Hermione what…"

She turned around, her panic clearly showing on her face as her mother lowered her voice. "What is it sweetheart?"

"It's them mum, Harry's relatives. They're the new members."

Ruth looked over Hermione's shoulder and then back to her daughter, her face showing no hint of her feelings.

"I see, but we still have to be polite. Now let's be nice and introduce ourselves to the future jailbirdies."

Her father, not having been privy to the discussion about Harry's family, had no compunctions about greeting the new members and soon her parents were talking to the Dursleys like old friends. She hugged her uncle and aunt Tracy then turned to the table to look for her favorite…

"Auntie Read!"

A small missile named Martin collided with her somewhere below the equator, nearly toppling her to the ground. Thankfully she caught herself and was able to hug her cousin without embarrassing herself.

"Hullo there Martin sweetie, how are you today."

"Good Auntie, guess what!"

"What?"

"We met your hero! He saved us from the big meanie and now he's here protecting us."

"Oh is he now?" If only Harry were here, and if only they could meet her green-eyed friend. She was sure they would love him. But instead her sweet cousin who loved to play pretend was imagining someone who she was beginning to have more than just friendly feelings for. That same boy who was likely sitting in his room without food while they ate and drank and danced. It made her stomach churn. And that feeling was contrasting with her oddly elated emotions when she thought of Harry.

Damn hormones. Why was she feeling like this now? Couldn't that have started years ago? Maybe she was just too logical and had been picking them apart with her thoughts making it so she didn't get all flustered about boys for no legitimate reason.

Though her reasons for feeling strange about Harry did seem to be rather legitimate.

Damn hormones.

"Yeah! He's cleaning up something Sarah spilled, but he's awesome! Do you want to meet him Auntie?"

"I'd love to. Where is your sister anyway?"

"She's watching Harry while he cleans up her mess. He told her that if he was going to clean her mess up then she had to help him by making sure he got it all off the floor."

"Harry?"

A hand entered near the top of her vision, extended as if to help her up from the crouch she was in while talking to her cousin. It barely registered through the sudden haze. It wasn't possible was it? It couldn't be.

"Hello miss. I'm Ha…"

As her eyes trailed up his arm, up his suited body to his face, her head tilted up, bringing her own face in to his view. His name died in his own mouth and Hermione found herself staring in to the emerald eyes of the unrecognized hero of Hogwarts`. The hero they sang about without recognizing why he really was a hero. A hero for saving her from herself. A hero for saving her from logically crushing her hormones. A hero for being the best friend anyone could be.

Harry Potter.

The friend who she realized she didn't want to keep as simply a friend any longer.

What the hell was happening to her? Why this, why now?

Wasn't there like, a better time to be thinking about romance?

Wasn't she supposed to ruminate about this overnight while reading a romance novel and suddenly realizing she was placing her best friend in the place of the love interest?

Wasn't she supposed to be thinking more logically than this?

Or had her mind just broken and now she was seeing the imaginary friend of her cousin whom she was processing as her best friend because logically that is what she would do with something she couldn't accurately predict that he was seeing?

Or had puberty broken and made her hormonally attracted to boys now that her body had essentially caught up enough that she could fulfill her biological predetermined processes?

Or had she finally just realized that she had been having romantic feelings for Harry for several years but had misinterpreted them as friendly and sisterly affection as a result of her underdeveloped social understanding?

Holy cricket, she had been interested in Harry for years.

Holy crap!

And now she was having incredibly overwhelming and rapid thoughts within impossibly short a time that was supposed to be filled with her coming up with a plan for how to address this impossible situation considering all of the inconceivable factors that had brought them all together in this moment.

If she had been at all aware of the environment, Hermione might have noticed that every flower in every vase on every table within that large room had just opened wide their petals, revealing a myriad of unnaturally intense and mesmerizing colours.

**SN**

Thank you all for reading and please review.

Elise