A/N: I had several chapters already written, which is the reason that three chapters were published in one day. Future chapters are not yet written so updating will be much slower from here on out.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. I'm just borrowing it for creative purposes


Chapter 3

The next several days were the best that Harry could ever remember having at Privet Drive. Him and Maggie met up everyday at the park and spent hours talking, laughing, and living in a way that neither of them really had before. She was so easy to talk to, and opening up to her, sharing his thoughts and ideas about life and the world (an obviously edited version so as to not accidentally spill the magical beans) came as easy as breathing to Harry. For someone who could barely admit to his best friends when something was wrong with him, this was huge. He found himself joking a lot more than he ever had in the past, doing nearly anything to make his new friend smile and laugh. Maggie opened up to him a lot too, and seemed to completely lose her nervous exterior in his presence over that first week.

He discovered that Maggie had always wanted to come to England and had practically forced her father to take the promotion so she could visit him, and that she had a severe case of "word vomit-itis" as she rather ruefully coined it (the disgruntled expression on her face had had him laughing for two minutes straight). He learned Maggie's likes and dislikes, her favorite books, music and movies, and what kind of weather made her the most happy (thunderstorms, so that she had an excuse to curl up with a book all day). He listened to long conjectures on whatever topic happened to filter through her brain at any given moment and happily bantered with her if they happened to disagree on something.


Maggie was having the time of her life in England, with Harry. With her dad working during the weekdays she was able to spend entire days with him at what she had begun to call "their park" in her head. Days spent swinging gently or just laying on the grass in the shade seemed to slip by in whirlwinds of fun and happiness and that odd feeling she started getting in her stomach when she saw Harry smile or heard him laugh. She had never been able to do this with someone before. Just sit, and talk about anything and everything that crossed her mind and listen to whatever contributions Harry made during their conversations. She learned a lot about Harry during that first week.

She learned the basic facts; that Harry's full name was Harry James Potter, he was fifteen years old and that his parents had died in a car accident when he was a baby (which was when he got the jagged scar on his forehead) and so he came to live with his mother's sister and her family. She learned that the boarding school he went to was in Scotland and that he went there because his parents had enrolled him at birth; that his two best friends Ron and Hermione were about as opposite as it was possible to be. It was when he offered her more personal bits of information that she felt really connected to him. When he told her that his birthday was July 31 (and she panicked because she had no idea what to get him), and that his favorite class was Self-Defense because he always did better practical work than written. When he shared with her his fears of the future, and the uncertainty he felt about his chosen career path (law enforcement). The pressure he felt from the students and staff at his school because his parents were apparently phenomenal students and he didn't feel like he was as good as them. Maggie discovered that he didn't like the Dursley's and they didn't like him (a fact that didn't sit well with her at all). What she didn't discover, was why her friend had been so sad that first day in the park. Although she supposed that dead parents and living with the Dursleys was reason enough, Maggie still felt that there was something else eating away at Harry. She would see it, sometimes, in the way his eyes would darken and his shoulders would bow suddenly. It took her until Friday to work up the courage to ask him.


"Harry?" The soft calling of his name coming from the person to his right caused the ebony haired teen in question to open his eyes and prop himself up on his elbows from where he was laying under their favorite tree. Turning his gaze to Maggie, who was sitting cross-legged and leaning against the trunk of the tree, he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" As he looked at her she seemed to grow nervous and began fidgeting with the grass under her palms.

"You know that first time that I sat next to you in the park?" Harry nodded, deciding that a snarky retort on how it was only five days ago wouldn't be appreciated at the moment and Maggie continued. "I wasn't going to say hello you know. I was actually getting ready to turn around and head right back home because I was still embarrassed about you catching me staring at you, but then I saw-" She cut off and seemed to be gathering her courage for something. "I saw you, and you looked really, really sad, and sometimes we'll be talking and you will just get this-this haunted look in your eyes and I hate seeing you that way and I just-I just want to know- are you okay Harry?"

Maggie's question caught Harry completely off guard and Harry was getting ready to brush it off, to offer platitudes and false reassurances that he was fine and that she didn't need to worry about him, but then he looked at her. Her eyes were pleading with him to tell the truth. They were so open and innocent and so genuinely concerned for him, for whether or not he was okay, that he couldn't offer her a lie. So he told her the truth, well, the muggle version of it anyway.

Harry told her about Sirius and how he was his godfather and how he was gone forever. He told her every memory he had of Sirius, about how the letters he would receive from his godfather, from his true family, would make him feel loved and cared for and safe. How Sirius would tell him stories about his father, and the pranks they would play together at school. He told her everything and she listened. She sat there and listened to him as he expelled every single bitter, angry, guilt-ridden thought that had made its home in his head in recent weeks. As he raged at the world, at the injustice of losing his only father-figure after only two years of being able to know him. Her eyes never wavered from his form, and as he finished telling her about how empty he had felt in the past few weeks, he suddenly began to become aware of what he had done. He had told Maggie, a muggle girl who he had scarcely met a week ago, everything. Barring the prophecy of course, although he was sure that if there had been a way to explain that in a muggle way then he would have. What was he thinking, dumping all of his problems on her like that? She didn't need all of his emotional baggage, didn't need to know all of the dark thoughts that flickered in his brain. She probably thought he was some sort of messed up psycho now! These thoughts took over Harry's brain and caused him to bow his head in shame and embarrassment, not wanting to see when Maggie decided that he wasn't worth the trouble and left him alone.

He kept waiting, every moment expecting to hear the sound of his friend standing up and leaving, maybe offering him a pat on the back and an awkward "sorry" that would only make him feel worse. Harry braced himself for the worst, which is why he was caught completely off guard when a pair of arms suddenly snaked themselves around his torso.


Maggie listened in stunned silence as her friend spoke, hardly able to believe that all of this pain had been cooped up inside of him for weeks. He was in agony, it was easy to tell from the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke of his fallen godfather (murdered, he said) and the sharp inhales that he would take every so often so that he could continue talking without crying. Harry had loved his godfather, probably just as much as he loved his two best friends and Maggie's heart ached for him when she realized just how off kilter and empty Harry's world had become with his loss. She sat silent, and still, trying to process all of the information she was being given and when she finally realized that Harry had stopped talking she blinked away the tears in her own eyes that had risen unbidden at her friend's pain, and looked at Harry.

He looked much as he had that first day at the park. Head bowed, shoulders sagging, and arms clenched tightly around himself as if he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. It hurt her to watch one of the best friends she had ever had (after only just a week of knowing each other and holy crap had it really only been a week?) in such obvious pain and when she realized that Harry was waiting for her to do something, she couldn't help herself. Releasing a breathy sob, Maggie threw her arms around Harry in the biggest hug she could muster. She held on tightly, trying to show him without words that he didn't have to hold himself together because she would do it for him and that it was okay to share his burdens with her. After initially tensing up, Harry seemed to eventually realize what was going on and, when his arms loosened from their place around his body and wrapped around hers just as tightly, Maggie realized that she wouldn't have - couldn't have let go for anyone or anything. If she felt a few teardrops hit her t-shirt, she never mentioned it because maybe Harry wasn't ready for her to see him cry just yet, but she would damn well make sure that when he was, he knew that she was absolutely going to be there.


The next day was Saturday and, as Maggie's father had been working all week, he decided that he wanted to take his daughter to London to see some of the sights. This declaration had led to a lot of excited squealing on Maggie's part (she had damn near talked Harry's ear off when she told him) and many muffled swear words emitting from her room as she tried to figure out what to wear for her tourist day in London. Eventually deciding on a basic pair of jean capri's and a burgundy and grey v-neck t-shirt along with her grey keds, Maggie piled into the car next to her father and enjoyed the time she had to simply talk with her dad after a week of only seeing him at dinner time. The car ride was spent planning out the day's events and catching up on life in general. The Smiths, being a favorite of both father and daughter, provided a nice background hum while the English scenery flew by and Maggie, still not used to driving on the left, remarked on the oddness of it every few minutes causing her father to smile fondly at her and tell her that it wouldn't feel so odd after a while.

The day in London was spent at a leisurely pace, seeing the few sights that Maggie declared she absolutely had to (Big Ben, and the London eye being a few), stopping for lunch, and eventually dinner. Any places that they didn't get to were pushed off for another trip; they had the whole summer to come back after all. Many times over the day, Evan would stop a stranger and ask for a picture of him and his daughter together at random attractions and locations, the pair striking ridiculous poses and joking around like they always had and there were a great many times when Maggie was struck by just how much she had missed her father those first six months he had been in England. She was a daddy's girl, always had been, and going from seeing her father three or four times a week to not seeing him at all had taken a toll on her. These fleeting thoughts would always take her mind to Harry, alone at the Dursley's, his only father-figure cold and dead, and she would always feel simultaneously guilty and grateful for still having her dad with her.


Evan Graham looked at the sleeping form of his fifteen year old in the passenger seat and couldn't help the broad smile that stretched across his face. Leaving Maggie had been the most difficult part of his move and even though she was barely a week into her stay, he already knew that he would miss her even more when she left. The day had been perfect. The weather had been sunny but not swelteringly hot, there had been no disagreements about anything between father and daughter and Evan had gotten to see the joy and awe on his little girl's face every time she saw something that she had always dreamed of seeing. Inevitably, though, at every place they went Maggie would make some offhand remark about how much Harry would like something or other, or how much she wanted to show Harry everything that she saw. These comments are what led Evan to the current subject of his thoughts as he drove back home: one Harry Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive.

After his daughter's initial meeting with the boy almost a week ago, Evan had asked around about Mr. Potter and his initial findings had worried him somewhat. Apparently Mr. Potter was supposedly a delinquent, some uncontrollable miscreant who was forced unto the "Poor Dursley's" as an infant and had caused them nothing but grief. Digging a little had revealed the truth; no-one actually believed that the boy was as ill-behaved and rebellious as the Dursley's claimed, and it seemed to be an unspoken fact of the neighborhood that every word out of Vernon Dursley's mouth was complete and utter trash. Harry had never been spotted doing anything criminal or dangerous, and most people forgot that the boy existed half of the time. Evan of course didn't have that option, the boy was spending hours every day alone with his teen daughter and it was very difficult and worrisome for him to think about. It had been today that had settled his worries and doubts about Harry Potter. Every time Maggie had mentioned him she would smile this soft, small smile that he had never seen on her face before her becoming acquainted with Harry. Every night that week he had come home from work to a side of his daughter he had never seen before. Evan knew that Maggie had always had a hard time connecting to people, especially people her own age, and he was glad that she had found such a good friend, even if his "dad senses" warned him of the potential and likelihood that their relationship would progress deeper than that of friendship. He decided he wouldn't have to scare off the Potter boy. Yet.


Harry woke up late on Saturday morning feeling emptier, yet lighter than he had all week. His breakdown the day before had left him emotionally exhausted which resulted in him sleeping in later than he usually did. It didn't help his rather down mood that Maggie was going to London with her dad all day either, leaving Harry facing the prospect of twelve waking hours without talking with or laughing with her. Deciding that he might as well get some breakfast before resigning himself to his room for the rest of the day (the thought of going to the park without Maggie just wasn't appealing), Harry headed down the stairs praying that he didn't run into one of his "relatives". Luck was apparently on his side that day because all of the Dursley's seemed to still be asleep, leaving Harry the ability to get a real breakfast for once. Once his dishes were washed, dried, and placed back on their shelves, Harry walked back to his room and shut the door for what would probably be the last time that day.

He managed to waste two hours cleaning various things in his room and touching up homework before he ran out of things to distract himself and his thoughts turned back to Sirius. It didn't hurt as much today as it had in the previous weeks. Apparently baring your soul to someone was an extremely therapeutic healing technique as instead of fires of agony at the thought of his godfather, there was now a dull ache residing in the pit of Harry's stomach. Constant, yes. Painful, yes, but much more bearable for the teen. Harry thought about the previous afternoon, and though he had to cringe at how emotional he had been, he also had to smile at how Maggie had reacted. She had been a true friend, a brilliant listener and when she had hugged him Harry had actually believed that, for once, everything might be okay. Grinning to himself at the thought of Maggie, Harry turned his head to see if there was any other way he could occupy his time and in doing so, caught sight of the new stack of letters on his desk that Hedwig must have brought him while he was sleeping. He quickly crossed the room and grabbed them before flopping back onto his bed to open them.

The first was from Mad-Eye of course, just the usual you're not dead yet, are you Potter that Harry came to expect every other day or so. After scribbling out a quick response of Nope, still not dead, Harry grabbed the next letter which came from Ron.

Hey Mate,

How've you been so far? The muggles treating you all right? I'm sure that Dumbledore will have you out of that place in no time. Mum's driving me mad here, and Fred and George are busy with plans for their shop so it's dead boring without you here mate. I'll see you soon, yeah?

Ron

Harry smiled at his friends predictable letter, took comfort in the familiarity and quickly scribbled out a reply assuring his friend that he was fine and that the Dursley's weren't trying to kill him every other day or anything like that. He debated on whether or not to tell Ron about Maggie, but then decided that he didn't want Ron to get jealous or assume that Harry was trying to replace his friendship or anything of that nature, and opted to just keep Maggie to himself. He was sure that the Order had people watching him anyways, and they all probably knew about Maggie by now. He was actually surprised that it hadn't been mentioned in one of Mad-eye's letters. In his mind's eye, Harry could see how that particular letter would read. Constant Vigilance Potter! She could be a spy! She could be a death eater disguised as a pretty girl and you wouldn't even know! Chortling to himself at the thought, Harry opened the last letter, which was from Hermione.

Hello Harry,

How are you? Are you holding up okay? Are the Dursley's treating you decently? I've already finished my schoolwork, how about you? I've also read several fascinating books since the summer hols started, you wouldn't believe some of the fantastical applications that runes can have! Don't worry about having to stay too long at the Dursley's this year Harry, I've already heard rumors of you being able to leave before your birthday! Speaking of, what would you like this year, I have several ideas of course but it would be nice to know if there is something that you really want. I have to go now. Take care of yourself Harry, and remember, if you need to talk I'm only an owl away.

Love,

Hermione

Harry sighed at all of the questions about his well-being and the subtle, yet not really, implorations for him to talk to her about Sirius. He loved Hermione like a sister, she was one of his best friends and while he knew that her offers to listen were made with the best intentions, he also knew that, had he spilled his guts to Hermione the way that he had to Maggie the previous day, Hermione would not have been able to offer the same level of understanding and comfort that Maggie had. She would have tried to talk to him, to list off facts about the stages of grief or given him the names of books that he could read to "help" him. Maggie had just known what to do to make him feel better, had reacted in exactly the way that Harry had needed her too and he was extremely grateful to her for it. He still wasn't entirely sure why he and Maggie clicked so well, or how it was possible to grow so fond of someone in so short a time of knowing the other, but he was glad that they did, and absolutely glad to have Maggie Graham in his life.


After replying to Hermione as well and then sending Hedwig off with his mail, Harry decided to read some more of The Count of Monte Cristo. Since Maggie had given it to him he had been reading it every night when he had trouble sleeping. It was a slow process, seeing as Harry wasn't the best reader anyway, and the language was older and therefore harder to decipher, but Harry was enjoying it. The story was interesting, and the characters were relatable, plus it distracted him from his thoughts while at the same time reminding him of Maggie, and looking at the well worn cover never failed to bring a smile to his face. Getting comfortable, Harry cracked open the book and settled in for a long Saturday of reading, hoping that Maggie was enjoying her day in London.


With Sunday came a huge thunderstorm and torrential downpour that had Harry groaning out loud when he saw it. There went his plans of a leisurely day in the park with Maggie, he might as well not get up at all. Resigning himself to yet another day spent in his room avoiding the Dursley's, Harry lost himself in his depressing thoughts and almost didn't hear the doorbell ring downstairs. Although his Uncle's loud roar of "BOY!" had him making his way downstairs to see what the commotion was about. He got to the foot of the stairs and had to laugh.

Maggie stood in his front doorway, looking obviously uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the Dursley's and visibly relaxed when she saw him standing there. Before he could ask his friend why she was standing in his relative's home soaked to the bone and dripping water all over Aunt Petunia's carpet (he'd have to thank her for that later) Maggie grinned at him and held up what he determined to be some sort of boxed set of discs. "It's raining Potter, and that means it's time for you and I to start on your movie education."


A/N: Yay or Nay? I know that Harry probably seemed slightly ooc with the whole baring his soul and hugging scene, but keep in mind that Maggie doesn't know that Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived. She has no expectations of him to be strong, or to save her and this is what I believe allows Harry to be a bit more vulnerable around her. Let me know if you think that the relationship is moving too fast (romance should start to sprout up more fairly soon) or too slow. Also suggestions for what movies Maggie should force Harry to watch would be awesome. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated as well :)