I don't own the story or the characters of Harry Potter, this work is entirely fan-made. The rights to everything Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. I also have no beta or proof-reader (at least not a human one) so expect some mistakes from time to time.
Just in case the update wasn't seen last time: I have something important to say here. If you, like a recent reviewer on my first story, have a problem with my work or just have a complaint that isn't suitable for a review, DO NOT POST IT! I have since removed the review as it was not appropriate and I could not stand to look at it. I will re-iterate. If you have a problem with me, such as believing that I 'don't deserve to be writing these stories as there are much better writers who don't write sequels:' You can not only send me a PM, but you can piss off if you choose to post it as a review as you clearly don't understand the FREEDOM OF SPEECH which includes writing non-profit sequels to non-profit fanfiction that gives me no credit whatsoever for the original material. Also, own up to it and don't use a guest account. 'Look me in the eyes when you are trying to kill me.' Do not test me on this matter!
Rant over.
"Oh for Merlin's sake Harry, stop being so nervous. You've faced down a sixty-foot basilisk and taken down Voldemort almost single-handedly three times," She deadpanned. "Yet, you're worried about seeing your girlfriend after a holiday in France. The most she will have changed is getting a tan on the beach or slightly taller." Zoe teased her brother as he seemed jittery at breakfast. Lily and James had noticed it too but left the 'helping' to his sister. He retorted by saying "I'm not nervous about seeing her again, I'm over the moon about that… I tried to learn some French for her. She was born and raised in France until she was about 5, so she knows some pretty extensive language and I wanted to impress her. I've never been great at languages… and you knew that, o sister of mine." He glared at her as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Knock it off, you two, for once." She turned to Harry. "I think it's sweet and romantic that you would try to learn some language to impress her. Although, she is already dating you, remember. Just don't stop being yourself around her. And for what it's worth when you were practising, you sounded fine." Harry smiled up at his mother and went back to eating his toast.
Hermione had just settled back into her comfy chair by her desk in her room when she remembered that Harry had owled her and asked when he could visit after they got back. He was going to visit at the first possible opportunity and Hermione had a whole day planned just for them. They would be taking a walk around her area of Crawley and going to the local park. Hermione had always loved going to the park and reading until it got wet or dark. It was one of her favourite pastimes. And she had just the book to read with Harry tomorrow, though she wouldn't tell her mother and father why it was so special to her. All that Hermione said about that book was that she wouldn't read it until she and Harry could read it together.
The next day came around and Harry woke with a smile. Not even Zoe's shower temperature antics would get him down today, though the boiling water wasn't overly appreciated. Making sure to dress in his muggle clothes that his mother insisted he wears when in public, he walked downstairs with a grin that put the Cheshire cat to shame, much to the chagrin of Zoe. "Over your nerves then, Monsieur Potter?" She asked as he absentmindedly grabbed some porridge oats from the cupboard. "I think you're trying to insult me, but that is a help." She made a face and went back to her tv show. After finishing his porridge, he went upstairs to brush his teeth, for himself and his image with the Grangers. Of course, Hermione wouldn't be devastated if he didn't, but she wouldn't be overly thrilled either, plus he didn't want to kiss her with oats in his teeth like braces. When he was finished and he had gathered his notebook on French sayings, Harry headed out of the house with a fleeting message of "goodbye" to his mother which earned him a nod and smile. As he stood on the pavement outside the Potter house, he looked for muggle bystanders and pointed his wand out in front of him. Seconds later, a bright purple bus with three tiers shot out of the blue with a loud bang, as if the street had been startled by its presence. The bus steadily came to a halt and Harry was greeted by a skinny man with brown stubble and a violet cap, clearly indicating that he was the conductor. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for witch and wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this morning… Hang on, ain't 'choo that Harry Potter fella?" Harry shook his head and covered his scar, not wanting to garner unwanted attention. "No, the name is John... Kemble, how much is it to get to Crawley, the library specifically?" He asked using a name he remembered from an old play. "That'll be about 7 sickles, but for 9 you get a beverage and for 11 you get a hot-water bottle and an armchair 'o your colour." Harry rolled his eyes and shoved 7 sickles into Stan's outstretched hand. "Just transport, please."
The bus wasn't too crowded and only two elderly witches were sat on the bottom tier as they sipped tea at a table. The vehicle moved again with a sudden jolt as Harry was thrust onto one of the beds by the force of the movement. Stan was already sat back in his seat by the driver 'Ern' with his legs crossed and reading a newspaper. Harry nearly groaned at the sight of the Daily Prophet in his hands if it weren't for the headline that glared at him from the folds of the paper. 'PETER PETTIGREW SIGHTED NEAR DUFFTOWN: MURDERER AND MANIAC!' "Hey, who's Peter Pettigrew? I reckon I've heard of him before." Stan scoffed and rolled his eyes at Harry before doing a double-take and staring incredulously at him. "Who's that? Who's that? You can't be telling me you've never read about Pettigrew. E's a murderer." Harry sighed and got impatient. "Yes, obviously. I did happen to read all of the headline before questioning you. I mean who did he kill and what did he do beforehand?" Stan was getting annoyingly rude. "'E was never caught after he tried to frame Sirius Black for killing 13 muggles in a gas explosion. Word is 'e cut off his finger to make it look like Black disintegrated 'im." As Harry was lost in his musings, the Knight Bus had made two stops, one in Cardigan and one in Liverpool. As it sped off again, the thought of Dumbledore and Pettigrew both being on the loose this year swept over Harry and made him worry. He shook it off and told reminded himself of who he was here for. Hermione. "Alright then, Mr Kemble, here we are. Crawley Library," Stan said as he ushered Harry off the bus before it sped off again with a bang. "That will never get old, or less sickening." He said to no-one in particular as he started the not-so-familiar walk to the Granger household. The walk was pleasant, quiet and oddly satisfying as he remembered the different paths that lead to her house. Strolling up the steps and over the path in the front garden was nerve-wracking and Harry suddenly realised that Zoe had been onto something this morning when she was mocking him. He was still nervous for no logical reason. That feeling only grew as he pushed the doorbell and waited for someone to answer it.
"Ah, Harry, come in. Hermione has been expecting you." Dan Granger beckoned as he answered the door. Harry politely nodded and stepped over the threshold, making sure to wipe his shoes on the welcome mat. Noticing the shoe-rack by the door, he removed his own, as was the proper thing to do when in another's house. "Harry, you alright?" Dan asked, noticing the boy's flustered face. "Yes. I'm fine Sir. I hope I'm not intruding on anything." Hermione's father nearly sniggered out loud when he said that, but kept his cool and addressed the awkward situation. "You have nothing to be afraid of Harry. I've already shown you that I can't hold up that 'My daughter is a princess and I'll break your legs if you hurt her' act. And try to loosen up a bit. Whilst it is incredibly wonderful that you are so courteous around everyone, you don't need to put up that mask with us. Especially with little old jokester me." He laughed and directed Harry to the living room, where Hermione was sat, reading a book. He smiled and thought to himself 'The good things never change.' "Hi, Hermione." Dan left them to their own devices with a whisper in Hermione's ear that made her flush red. "I missed you, you know." She said as she got up from the sofa, folding her book over the bookmark. "I should hope so-," He started before she hugged his and knocked the air from his lungs. To further illustrate her point, she kissed him and smiled. When she was done, Hermione had another bright red blush on her face and Harry was smirking like a mad genius. Harry took a deep breath and tried out his secret weapon. "So I tried to learn some French for you, but I don't know how good it will be. J'ai omis de vous aussi, mon Cherie." He said sheepishly as Hermione sat dumbfounded on her sofa. "Oh no… Did I get it wrong? What did you think I said?" Her face lit up light Christmas lights in Trafalgar Square as her lips curled into a smile. "Unless you didn't mean to call me darling, you got it exactly right. I hope you didn't spend all holiday researching French instead of doing your homework." He laughed and said back "Well, you're worth it. Although, you might have to help me study for our lessons for a while." Hermione obliged and met his lips with her own. "Don't let my parents embarrass you or my mother intimidate you. They're harmless."
The next hour passed with incredible speed as the two pored over books and parchment with the intent to get a headstart on their homework. Unfortunately, well, depending on who you asked, they spent most of the time catching up with tales of France and Dursley's instead of doing work, followed by small bouts of laughter and chaste kisses. Though Hermione's parents had requested that they both keep Hermione's bedroom door open, they trusted the two teens almost completely. And despite the open door, the melding of their lips was passionate enough to make anyone blush. With breathy tones and red faces, Harry and Hermione straightened themselves out and threw a cautious glance each toward the door. "I had an idea of what we could do today instead of doing homework or…" she blushed again and muttered "snog." Harry laughed and earned a jab on the arm for it. Reeling himself in, he listened intently to her idea of a date. "I thought that since the weather today was scheduled to be quite dry and sunny, we could go to one of the local country parks. It might be nice to just sit around and not worry about anything for a few hours." Harry smiled and looked over at her in awe. "And then I thought we could… Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?" Her cute, questioning gaze was enough to make him as candid as possible. "I love it when you think. Your face starts to have this… effect about it. I can't quite put my finger on it." He pretended to study her features a little while longer until she snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "Oh yes, I realise it now. It is a beautiful, radiant and captivating smile." He finished by touching a finger to the tip of her nose. "You are such a romantic, you know. I'm surprised you haven't a throng of pretty women by your side all the time." His face fell. "You are half wrong. I don't have a string of women, but the one I choose to love is more beautiful than the shine of one thousand stars. More enchanting than the Black Lake on winter's eve. More stunning than all 7 wonders of the world. You are all of that, and yet so much more." Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears as she clutched Harry in a hug that threatened to never cease.
Their date was almost as perfect as it was planned to be, however, there was one factor that Hermione hadn't put into the equation: the chance that the muggle weather forecaster on the BBC was incorrect about the sun. The pesky star in question had disappeared behind rolling clouds as the two were finishing their walk around the scenic country park with interlocked hands and wide grins. As soon as the rain had started to beat the couple with torrents of precipitation, they ran to the nearest tree and huddled on a bench underneath it, with damp clothes and wet hair. Harry started his French again, using nearly the same words as before. "Je t'aime tellement mon Cherie." Hermione sighed into his chest and breathed out "Je t'aime aussi, mon amour." They sat on that park bench, nestled in each other while the rain continued to pound down on Crawley, having the juxtaposed effect of making Harry and Hermione's love burn brighter with each drop.
Lots of romance and Harmony in this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I also altered some facts about Hermione in this chapter. I did this to cement Hermione as a more cultured and travelled person. We never really get any explanation in the books and as to why she and her parents go to France often, so I added in the small change that she was born and raised in France before moving to England. Emma Watson was partially raised in France, plus, you know, Beauty and the Beast (2017) vibes (Seriously go and watch it. Wonderful and the soundtrack is stellar.)
Obviously I used some basic French for this chapter, however, I can in no way speak or understand more than what is written here and the word Bonjour. Year 9 French was sooooo long ago. Nevertheless, I used it because it is one of (if not the) most romantic languages known to mankind. Close competitors in my opinion are Spanish and Italian, but I definitely can't speak Spanish and it has been over a decade since I have understood anything in Italian besides Ciao.
Stay safe-
E