Chapter 2.... When I write I don't--usually--break it into chapters right away and as I'm doing so now I'm realizing exactly how long this thing is. It's exciting, but daunting, too, especially since I had planned on adding a bit in the middle.... Oh well. As long as it's all well-written, it should OK, right?! -_-*
There are no real notes about this section, so I leave you to your reading and much reviewing. ^_^
**~~***~~**
The next two days passed slowly. James, who worked as a manager and assistant coach for the junior league London soccer team, was away most of the day. When he was home, he spent a lot of time on the phone. Lily was a part-time Chemistry tutor at the local college. It was with reluctance and a kiss on the forehead that she left Harry each morning.
Left to his own devices for the most part, Harry spent his time wandering around the house, looking in drawers and on shelves, and trying to recognize grandparents and friends in photos. He didn't see much that looked familiar.
On his second day of investigating the drawers of the desk in his room, he did find a class ring for Eldwood, claiming its owner would graduate in 1998. The ring itself was wide and masculine, the stone round, heavy-looking, and as solid and black as midnight. His brow furrowed, he'd brought it downstairs to the parlor where his mother was sitting, finishing some study sheets she was making up for one of the students she was helping.
"Mum?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Is this my class ring?"
Looking up, Lily smiled. "Oh, yes. That thing. I completely forgot about it." She took it from him. "You got it last year. They put the wrong birthstone in it though. It should have been a ruby," she said, rubbing the smooth curve of the black stone with her thumb.
"Is that onyx?" he asked.
"It's more matte than that. I think it's black pearl." Looking back up at him, she explained, "The jeweler probably just got July confused with June. Your father and I offered to pay to have it corrected, but you said you liked it the way it was." She held it back out to him.
"Oh. Did you and Dad get it for me?"
"No. You said you bought it with the money you got for your birthday. I don't know how I forgot to tell you I'd put it in your drawer. You always had it on: it should have been odd to see you without it."
Harry smiled a little. "Thanks." Leaving the room, he went back up the stairs, preoccupied with looking at the black pearl and seeing the way the light shown and spread over the polished surface of the stone. It wasn't a ball, the way most pearls were. It had been polished down to fit into the ring in a curve that rose just slightly above the edge of the setting.
Wonder how much I paid for this thing, he mused. It must have been really expensive.
When he got back to his room, Harry set the ring on his desk and looked at it again. It was yet another thing--like soccer--that he seemed to appreciate so much before, but which held no attraction for him now. There was nothing that drew him to wanting to wear the ring: and besides, he wasn't very much into jewelry. And it wasn't like it had been a present, really. He had bought it himself. Lily hadn't seemed too fond of the thing either, so he was sure it wouldn't mean anything to his parents if he didn't wear it.
After a moment, he opened the desk drawer and put the ring back in it.
By the end of his third day at home, Harry still hadn't yet managed to work up the courage to call Ron, though Lily had reminded him gently that the number was written on the list in the front cover of the phone directory, if he was having a hard time remembering it.
Sitting by himself, Harry sighed and picked up the phone. He had been staring at the open directory for ten minutes, studying Ron's unfamiliar phone number.
He smiled suddenly as he looked down at the phone. "Fellytone." His smile fell. He suddenly felt homesick for the Weasley's crowded, crazy funhouse, with all its odds and ends, and random magic bursting from unexpected places at odd intervals. He sighed again. Just as he was about to push the TALK button, the phone rang.
Harry jumped, dropping the receiver on the floor. It rang again and he scooped it up. "Hello?" It felt very odd to be talking on a telephone. No one called him at the Dursleys'--when he had dreamed he was at the Dursleys'--and even the action of fitting the phone beside his head felt foreign.
"Harry?"
The unease that had swelled inside him melted instantly at the familiar voice. "Remus! Hi."
"Hello! It's so good to hear your voice. How are you?"
"I'm all right."
"Yeah? You sound good. Sorry I haven't been up to see you yet. I'm under strict orders to take it easy, and that means no driving. Not for a couple more days, anyway."
A sick shock jolted in Harry's stomach. That was right. This Remus was ill, too. All thoughts of James's passing comment during the game had evaporated once Sirius had started telling Harry about his new bike, but now the worry he had felt at Lily's solemn attitude returned full-force. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"
Remus chuckled. "Nothing more serious than usual. Don't sound so worried."
Harry only relaxed marginally. What was "usual?" He racked his brain, but couldn't find even the shadow of a memory of what was wrong with Remus besides his being a werewolf--which wasn't true, so it was a useless piece of information. "You'll be better by the weekend, right?" he asked tentatively.
"Definitely. In fact, I was calling to invite you and your folks over for a big roast dinner at my place on Saturday to celebrate both of us getting back on our feet."
"That would be great!"
"Well, I should get going. I still have plans to write out. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. My roll sheets came in the mail for next term. Looks like we'll be seeing each other a bit this year."
"Roll sheets? You're teaching? I'll be in your class?"
Remus laughed. "I've always taught! But yes, you'll be in my class."
Harry couldn't help but think things couldn't be turning out more perfect if he'd plotted them out himself. "That's great!"
"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic. Most kids your age don't get this excited about World Civics."
A weight suddenly dropped into Harry's stomach. It just occurred to him that he couldn't think of a single class he'd ever taken besides the ones at Hogwarts! He could have managed a passable foot of parchment on the giant wars, but try to pass a muggle civics class?!
After a second of silence, Remus said, "Well, I should get going. Pass my hellos on to your parents, and have them call me about Saturday."
"OK. I will. Bye." Harry hung up the phone numbly, feelings of mild distress building inside him. He stood up, the directory and Ron's number forgotten, and jogged up the stairs to his room. Pushing aside the magazines, Harry took the thick text titled "Algebra II" and sank onto his bed. He flipped through the pages, hoping desperately to find something that looked familiar. It could have been written in Gobbledegook for all he understood. Harry flopped back on his bed.
It'll all come back with time, he told himself. He'd been repeating those words, first intoned to him by Dr. Crawford, a lot.
"Harry! I'm home!"
Harry jumped off his bed and ran down the stairs. Lily was standing in the doorway, trying to kick off her shoes as she juggled two full grocery bags.
"I've got those, Mum." Harry took the bags and started towards the kitchen. "How was work?"
"All right. Busier than usual. Summer classes are just starting and we always get a heavy flow of freshmen in the first few weeks of term. Just until they get their feet on the ground."
Sorting through the bags halfheartedly, Harry asked, "Mum?"
"Hmm?"
"What's going to happen when school starts up?"
"That's not for another month and a half."
"Yeah, I know. But I was just wondering-- I mean, there are still a lot of things I don't remember. What if I can't-- I mean, you learn things based on what you learned previous years, and I don't feel like I've learned anything."
"Oh, honey." Lily set down the grapefruit she was about to put away and ran her fingers through Harry's hair, smoothing it back out of his face. "Don't you worry about that. It'll come back when you see it. And if it makes you feel better, we can buy your books early and look over them together. I bet you'd be surprised how much you remember."
Not feeling reassured, as he'd already tried looking through his old textbook, Harry just nodded. "Remus called today."
"Did he? Good. How is he feeling?"
"Better. He wants us to go over for dinner Saturday."
"That sounds like fun. It's been ages since we've been to his apartment."
"He got his roll sheets. I'll be in his class next term."
"Well, that will definitely help." Lily, who was peering into the refrigerator, handed Harry a Tupperware container. She wrinkled her nose. "Throw that out. No, don't open it! Just throw the whole thing in the trash. God knows how long it's been in here."
Harry did as he was told, then went back, leaned on the refrigerator door, and watched his mother sorting through the rest of the leftovers.
"Did you talk to Ron today?"
"I was going to, but Remus called and I got sidetracked."
"I'm sure he's worried about you. He kept calling for weeks after the accident to see how you were doing."
"I'll call him after dinner." Harry handed Lily the eggs, then, sighing, walked into the living room. He turned the TV on and flipped through a couple channels.
He didn't want to call Ron. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to see Ron himself, but more that he didn't want to feel even more weird around people he was suppose to know and care for. Harry loved his parents very much, but they were getting harder and harder to be around. The more obvious he was about his lack of interest in soccer, the more James seemed to pull away from him. And Lily.... She was wonderful, but she definitely seemed use to a more independent son who didn't seek out her opinions. When Harry felt like he just needed to talk to someone, she seemed to give him the short answers designed to shut children up and superficially sooth over difficult problems. He could tell she loved him; it wasn't that. He just wasn't sure how close he was suppose to be with her. After the moments of disappointment he'd experienced, Harry wasn't looking forward to meeting Ron and risking finding out that his best friend was a stranger, too.
Suddenly the front door opened. "Honey, I'm home!"
From the kitchen, Harry could hear his mother call, "In here."
As James strode by the living room doorway, he tossed his suit jacket on the couch. "Hey, Harry."
"Hi, Dad."
Harry slumped deeper into the couch. Maybe I dreamed what I wanted them to be, he mused. Maybe I dreamed Ron like I want my best friend to be. And my parents-- No! There's no way I would want them dead! Maybe not dead, he amended, but willing to sacrifice for me. To save me. It's like I don't think they love me. But I know they love me!
James came into the living room and dropped onto the couch. He passed Harry a soda and asked, "How was your day?"
Popping the tab on the can, he shrugged. "Same as yesterday. And the day before."
James sighed. "Well, I was thinking you're probably in good enough shape to get out of the house for a bit. And, more importantly," he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "your mother agrees. Do you want to head over to Sirius's with me? He's still hopping up and down to get us to see that new bike of his."
Harry sat up. He hadn't seen Sirius since that day he'd woken up. "That would be cool."
"Thought you'd think so. I'll just get changed and we'll leave. Make sure to wear something you don't mind messing up. Knowing Sirius he'll try to get you to change the oil, or something."
"All right." Harry finished his soda, then stood up. Maybe he would be able to put off calling Ron another day if they were out late....
**~~***~~**
"Isn't she a beaut?"
Harry cocked his head to side. "She's something," he agreed.
"She's a rust bucket," James said bluntly. He flicked a few flakes of rust off the side of the bike with the toe of his sneaker.
"Right now. Just give me another couple weeks with her and she'll be the envy of the town."
"Does it run?" Harry asked skeptically.
James laughed.
Sirius huffed slightly. "Not at the moment. I still have to put the fuel lines back. A little tweak to the engine and she'll purr like a kitten with a brand new catnip mouse." He stroked the handlebars lovingly.
Shaking his head, Harry sat on the nearest crate. While James and Sirius continued discussing the modifications Sirius wanted to make, Harry looked around the garage. It had four bays and two of them were filled: one with a shiny, hunter green BMW, and the other with a white, vintage Mustang convertible. Harry never would have pegged Sirius as a mechanic, but seeing him in the setting, his oil-stained coveralls unzipped and the sleeves tied at the waist over an equally oil-stained tank top, it seemed to fit him somehow. And it wasn't some junky gas station auto repair garage. It looked pretty hi-tech and up-scale, by the way service garages went.
Suddenly, an old man stuck his head out the side door of the office. "Sirius, you got that BMW off the lift?"
"I thought it wasn't due out until tomorrow."
"The fella wants to pick it up tonight if the work is done on it."
"Work's done. I'll put it down and give it a once-over. Tell him to give me a half hour." The old man disappeared and Sirius sighed. "I tell you, I hated that git when we were in school and I hate him now." He walked over and punch the lift button.
Harry watched the BMW slowly descend to the ground. "Who's car is it?"
James snorted. "Can't tell a Malfoy-mobile when you see one?"
"Malfoy? Lucius?"
"The one and only," Sirius said importantly. "Glad we were only stuck with him one year. You go to school with his kid, right?"
"Draco? Yeah." Harry didn't know why he was so surprised. If Sirius and Remus and Ron were here, why wouldn't Draco and Lucius be here, too?
"He's a git, too. Just like his dad," James stated informatively.
"Don't surprise me." Sirius opened the driver's side door and turned the key. The engine purred to life. "I should cut his brake lines," he commented casually, killing the engine and putting the keys in his pocket.
James snickered.
"All right. Engine sounds good. Harry, make yourself useful and grab one of those rags."
Harry took a rag from the pile on the counter beside him and walked towards the car.
"There's polish in that bucket. Just go over the door handles, trunk, hood. You know, anywhere that might've been touched." While Harry wiped the car down, Sirius flitted around it like a humming bird on a blooming bush, turning knobs and flicking switches seemingly at random. "Looks in order." He closed the door and tossed the keys to Harry.
The only thing that kept them from flying passed him were his Seeker reflexes-- No, soccer reflexes, he corrected.
"Ever wanna drive a BMW?"
Harry looked up in surprise. "D-drive?"
"Yeah. Just pull it out into the lot so it'll be ready for Malfoy."
"Oh, no. I shouldn't."
"Come on," James chided. "You could run it into the door."
"I might really run it into the door," Harry retorted seriously.
"No, you won't. It's easy. Just hop in and pull her out. Nice and slow."
Seeing that Sirius wasn't going to take no for an answer, Harry walked to the car door as if he was walking to his death. If he so much a put a scratch on the car.... He shuttered. Sliding into the driver's seat, he was surprised to note how good it felt. He'd never been behind the wheel of a car that he remembered, but it did come with a certain satisfaction. If only his heart wasn't pounding out of his chest.
James and Sirius chuckled as he pulled the seat belt across his chest. They might think it was funny, but Harry wasn't taking any chances. Carefully, he put the key in the ignition. He turned it, wincing as the engine ground into itself before he let go and it settled out in that rich, contented purr.
"You don't have to hold it there. Just a quick turn and let it go," Sirius admonished.
"Now what do I do?" he asked.
"Jamie, you can't tell me you never let the kid drive!"
"I let him drive! Push in the brake then shift into gear." James was glaring at Harry like a bad puppy who had peed on the carpet in front of company.
Harry jammed his foot down onto one of the petals and the engine revved loudly. He lifted his foot quickly. James and Sirius were too busy laughing to point out the obvious: that was the wrong petal. Before they could, he pushed down the other petal and eased the shift into drive.
"It's not so hard," he muttered to himself, ignoring his dad's snickers.
"Easy on the gas, Harry," Sirius said, actually looking a little concerned.
"I know." Harry took his foot off the brake and slowly pressed down on the gas. There was a short delay and then the car lurched forward. Harry slammed on the brake with a deafening screech, sending himself flying forward until the seat belt caught and slammed him back into the seat.
"Easy!"
"I was being easy!" he yelled back.
"Are you sure you should let him play with Malfoy's car? He really might ruin it," James suggested, genuinely looking concerned.
"He's fine, if he just goes easy."
"Get in front of the car and see how easy I go," he muttered. Working up his courage to try again, Harry eased the petal down and the car slowly began to creep out of the garage bay. He turned the wheel and pulled it along the front of the office then stopped it sharply, squealing the tires again, and put it in park. His heart was still busting through his ribs as he turned the engine off and climbed out of the car.
"Hope you don't feel too offended if I don't offer you a summer job," Sirius said as he and James walked out into the sunlight.
"Hope you don't feel too offended if I say good," Harry replied, holding out the keys.
Sirius opened his mouth to answer when a black Porsche pulled into the parking lot and squealed to a stop just a couple feet away from Harry.
Harry jumped. He jumped a second time when James dropped a hand on his shoulder. Looking up at his father, Harry was surprised to see the protective glint in his eyes.
"You all right?"
"Y-yeah."
The tinted window of the Porsche rolled down and Draco Malfoy, sunglasses perched on top of his stylishly disheveled, gleaming blond hair, peered out. When he saw Harry, he hesitated for only a second before he spoke. "Potter? Good to see you up and around. Awful what happened. Heard all about it." He sounded like a smooth salesman trying to win Harry's confidence with flattery.
Harry just glared back at him, unable to think of what to say. Obviously, this Draco was just the same as the other one.
The Porsche's passenger door opened and Lucius stepped out looking slightly rumpled. "Ah, good. Everything is in order, I trust?" He stopped and looked with mild horror at Harry, who was still holding his car keys.
"Right as rain," Sirius said lightly, taking the keys out of Harry's hand and offering them to Lucius.
Lucius, his lips pressed into a thin line, took his keys. "You have my card on file."
"Yes, sir," Sirius answered, watching Lucius march towards his car.
Lucius sat in the driver's seat, turned the car on, and pulled out of the parking lot.
"See you around, Potter," Draco said, then leaned forward to turn up his radio as he rolled up his window. Heavy bass pounding in the air behind him, Draco backed up and peeled out of the parking lot.
Sirius snorted with disgust. "I hate him."
"'S all right," James said.
"He's a real prick."
"Just walk it off."
"Shut up."
James grinned. "Now let's play with that bike."
They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around the garage, talking and laughing. Not much work got done on the bike, but Harry soon realized that it wasn't suppose to. Every now and then, someone would run sandpaper over it, but that was as close to actually joining the activities that the bike came. For the most part, it just sort of sat there in the midst of them, being their reason to gather together.
So this is male bonding, Harry thought two hours later as he and James said goodbye and headed to their car. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the ritual, but no one had mentioned soccer, so he supposed he should chock it up as a good afternoon out with his dad.
**~~***~~**
Harry sighed, once again sitting on the couch with his parents, watching TV. It was officially day five and he was surprised to finally realize how boring his life was. Not just how boring it was, but how much he wasn't enjoying himself. Back when he was ducking Death Eaters and sneaking around Snape, he had lamented how complicated everything was. Now, he felt like a good, life-and-death struggle against insurmountable odds might be just the thing he needed.
"Did you call Ron last night like you said you were going to?"
"No, Mom. We got in late."
Lily looked at him the same way Hermione use to when she found he'd been skiving homework.
Hermione! Why hadn't he thought of her? She had to be here, and she was always good to talk to when he was in a fix! Nearly tripping over himself to get to the phone directory, Harry stumbled over James's feet.
"Easy. I'm sure Ron's phone number won't change in the next ten seconds," he chided.
"Not calling Ron," he said shortly. Taking the directory and the cordless telephone, Harry jogged up the stairs and into his room. Shifting through the pages, Harry searched for Hermione's number. He finally found one marked Dr. and Dr. Granger. That would be it. Hermione's parents were dentists, after all. Punching the numbers, Harry put his ear to the phone and waited.
Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Five--
"Granger residence."
"Hello. Umm, this is Harry. Harry Potter. Is Hermione there?"
"Oh, Harry, dear! How are you?"
"All right."
"That's good to hear. Hermione will be so glad to talk to you. Wait just one minute."
Harry fidgeted with the ties on the quilt at the foot of his bed. It looked handmade.... Wonder who I got it from, he mused.
"Harry?"
"Hermione! Thank god!"
"Oh, it really is you! How are you? Are you able to get out of bed? Is there any permanent damage? There's an amazing orthopedic--"
"I'm fine. I'm fine!" he half shouted over her. It felt so good to hear her sounding exactly like he expected her to.
"We were all so worried about you when we heard about the crash." She sounded near tears.
There was an odd swelling in his chest and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to just be with Hermione. Sit with her and listen to her tell him how irresponsible he was, and how she refused to put up with him or help him any more. "Everything's fine. I've actually been awake for a few days. I've just sort of been getting my bearings back."
"How's that going?"
"Not so well. You wouldn't have happened to have read anything about accident-related head trauma, would you?"
"Oh, Harry!"
"It's nothing serious," he said quickly. "Not really. Just a bit of memory loss. The doctor says it's normal, but it's driving me crazy! And I just need to talk about it with someone who might understand, but who isn't poking me with popsicle sticks."
There was a short pause. "Should I come over?"
Relief washed over him. "If it's not too late."
"Not at all. I'll be over in ten minutes."
"Thanks," he said sincerely before hanging up. Taking the directory and the phone back downstairs, he was very aware of how his parents were staring at him as he walked across the living room. "Hermione's going to come over for a little bit. I didn't think you'd mind."
"No, of course not."
"Thanks."
"There's tea in the kettle if you want to offer her when she gets here."
"All right." Harry walked to the kitchen, lifted the kettle lid, put it back, walked in circles by the dining room, made another pass through the living room, looked out the front door, wandered back up the hall--
"Harry, for sanity's sake, sit down!" James ordered. "She'll get here when she gets here."
"Leave him be," Lily said, smiling.
Harry sighed and dropped onto the couch. Just as he was about to pick up the remote, the doorbell rang. He sprang to his feet. "I'll get it!" Forcing himself not to run down the hall, Harry pushed the front door open and was nearly knocked over when Hermione flung her arms around him. He hugged her back.
"I was so scared!"
Harry laughed a little. "I'm fine. Come on, Mom put tea on for us."
As they walked down the hall, Hermione waved to James and Lily, who were watching TV. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter."
"Hello, Hermione."
"Hi."
When they got to the kitchen, Harry took out two cups and poured the tea. It seemed a little odd being with Hermione in a real house and not the common room or the library, but it was still good to see her. He fixed her tea without asking what she took, then held out the cup to her.
"You're suffering memory loss, but you know how I like my tea?" she asked skeptically.
"It's not memory loss, exactly. Let's sit in the parlor."
Once they were both settled in, Harry explained everything that had happened in his "dream," minus a few key details, like the fact that it had been a magic school, and that an evil dark lord named Voldemort had been out to kill him. Listening patiently, that usual, thoughtful look on her face, Hermione merely soaked in everything Harry told her.
"So now here I am. I can't remember how to drive a car--which Dad assures me he taught me--but, like you said, I can make your tea."
"Hmm. It sounds like you were just so wrapped up in the world you created for yourself that coming back here is a bit of a culture shock. Like going to a foreign country where you don't know the customs."
"Exactly! Am I mad?"
Hermione set her cup down and said in a businesslike tone, "Not in the least. Many people who go through such severe physical trauma come out of it different than they were before. A lot of times, people who use to love something--like a sport--" she added pointedly-- "come out of a coma or a brain injury and suddenly find they can't stand it. Or at very least don't like it. You're just having to relearn about your real life, as your mind seems to have erased it in favor of the one you made up for yourself. Luckily, some of the things in your real life do exist in your made-up one, so you have a lot less work to do than if you'd, say, imagined yourself to be the ruler of a herd of gibberish-speaking chipmunks."
Harry laughed. For the first time since waking, he felt somewhat normal. "So, now if I run into anything that I'm not sure about I can ask you and you'll give me honest answers?"
"Of course."
"OK. Did I really love soccer as much as everyone is making out that I should?"
"You were a fanatic. But, like I said, you might've changed, and that would be natural."
"What's funny is, I did like sports in my dream. Sort of. I mean, it was a completely ridiculous, made-up sport, but I really liked it and I was the captain of the team before I woke up."
Hermione studied him with a calculating eye. "Exactly how long were you in your other world?"
"That's just it. I have memories of an entire life there."
"Wow. I don't think I've ever read about anything like that. You could be put into a medical journal."
He shifted nervously. "Actually, I'd rather these details not go passed this conversation."
Hermione nodded. "Of course not. Have you called Ron yet? He's been frantic."
"I was going to call him yesterday, but I got busy. Then I went out with my dad to see Sirius."
Nodding again, she said, "You should call him. I won't tell him you're awake because I think it would hurt his feelings to hear it from someone besides you, but you should tell him soon."
"I'm just afraid he'll be different."
"Well, I'll go ahead and describe him to you. He's not very academic and his sports are sort of weak. He has the sensitivity of a tea cozy, and he tends to be thin-skinned and thick-skulled."
Laughing, Harry said, "That's Ron."
"Well good, then. Nothing to worry about." Hermione smiled.
"What about other people?" Harry suddenly thought of Ginny. If this dream was correct, she had a very strong attraction to him, and he to her, but because of Voldemort.... But Voldemort doesn't exist here, he reminded himself. "Like...Ginny?"
"Ginny?"
"Ron's sister."
"Ron doesn't have a sister," Hermione said, her brow wrinkled with thought.
"Does he have brothers?"
Waving her hand dismissively, she said, "Oh, loads. There's Bill, Charlie--"
"Percy, Fred, and George," Harry finished for her, feeling dejected as he realized he'd dreamed her. Ginny had been perfect, and she was completely made up.
"Were you and Ginny good friends in your dream?" Hermione asked shrewdly.
A pang of loss burned in his chest. "A little. What about you? No brothers or sisters?"
"Not a one."
Harry nodded slowly, thinking. "Do I have a girlfriend?"
"Not that I've ever known of. You did like Cho Chang for a year or so, but that was painful to watch, and I'm very glad you got over it."
Harry sighed. No Ginny, but that bit with Cho really existed. Why did he seem to keep getting the short end of the stick? After a moment, he said, "I'm not going to call Ron until Sunday. I just need some time to think. But I will call him." Grinning, he asked, "Are you and Ron going out yet?"
Her cheeks going very red, Hermione was just about to reply, when Lily walked into the parlor. "It's getting late. Do you need a ride home?"
"No, thank you." Hermione stood up. "But I should get going. I'll talk to you later. Call if you need anything."
"All right. Thanks."
Hermione hugged Harry quickly, said good night to Lily and James, then left, closing the door carefully behind her.
"It's been a while since Hermione's been over." There was a suggestive light in Lily's green eyes.
Avoiding her hinting, Harry said, "Well, I've been sleeping, haven't I? Who'd want to visit someone they couldn't do anything with?" Before his mother could reply, Harry took the tea cups to the sink and started down the hall. "'Night," he called back to his parents.
"Good night," James answered distractedly, still watching the TV.
"Good night, sweetie."
Harry took the stairs two at a time. Padding heavily into his room, he slumped onto his bed. He heaved a deep sigh. He suddenly missed Hogwarts with an aching so strong his chest hurt. It was so stupid, he told himself, to miss a place he had never really been.
TBC
