A/N: This submission is based on the prompt that Hermione and Harry are muggles in a world where magic doesn't exist. At almost 4,500 words this one grew to be a full-on, proper one shot.

"Mr. Potter, a word?" Mrs. Lucas called, stopping his progress toward the door.

"I've got practice," Harry informed, hoping that would free him from whatever had to be discussed. He'd been sitting in class all day and was so close to finally, mercifully, being free for the day. He was looking forward to the few hours of freedom he had before having to return home.

"It will just take a moment," she replied, motioning for him to take a seat.

Shit. He did his best to hide his annoyance and sat in the offered chair. The more he pretended to pay attention and care about what she wanted to say the sooner he could leave. Besides, he liked Mrs. Lucas.

"I'd like to talk about your effort in class."

"I don't understand," he stated in confusion, "my marks are fine."

"I didn't say anything about your marks, son. I'm talking about your effort."

She had him there. Maths were easy and there were a lot of idiots in his class that tried even less than him that made it easy to slide by, simply because of how thoroughly mediocre they were. The name Ron Weasley immediately sprang to mind. Their goalkeeper seemed to perpetually teeter on the edge of being suspended from sport due to his atrocious marks. It had become a running joke with the team.

Time to play the humble, sorrowful orphan act. That always seemed to work, and it wasn't even an act. He thought he was fairly humble and having to live with his aunt and uncle was truly awful. "You're right, ma'am. I haven't been giving it my best. I'll make more of an effort going forward."

She smiled...and not in an I believe you because you are a good boy and I feel bad about you being an orphan way...more like I know what you're doing and it's not going to work this time. She slipped a sheet of paper across her desk. It was the name and address of a home in a nearby neighborhood that was slightly nicer than where he lived. Uncle Vernon hated that neighborhood on principle simply because he couldn't afford to live there.

He looked back to his teacher...she had become much more serious. Before he could ask what was going on, she continued. "The local public school has a tutoring program involving some of their better students. Did you know that?"

"No," he answered, his stomach sinking. Tutor. This was definitely not good.

"It's a nice arrangement for both schools," she continued, "the tutors are students interested in teaching as a profession. Our school gets tutors for free and the students who volunteer get some experience and something that looks good on their transcript." He nodded as he stared at the sheet.

Hermione Granger

12 Thornbrook Lane

Someone named Hermione who attended public school and excelled at maths. She sounded awful.

"Now technically I can't make you do this as your marks are more than adequate, but this particular tutor is a bit unique."

"Unique?"

"She hasn't lasted beyond two sessions with any of the prior students she's been matched up with. It seems she has little patience for people her age who aren't quite as...driven. From what I've been told Mr. Weasley barely lasted thirty minutes."

A posh student with a pretentious name who thinks she is better than everyone else. Not good. He felt a surge of hope as he remembered her prior comment. There was still a way out. "You said you can't make me do this," he offered.

"No...no I can't. This program is designed for those who are struggling and your marks are well above the normal threshold for being considered."

Yes! He did his best to school his features and contemplated precisely how to phrase his polite refusal. Unfortunately, he took too long.

"What do you want to do once you graduate?"

"What?"

"Go to University, study a trade, what were you thinking?" she prodded.

And there it was, the question he'd had an answer for since he was five. But flee as soon as possible from my Aunt and Uncle then sort the rest out later didn't seem like a wise response, so he settled for a more diplomatic, teacher-friendly reply. "I'm not sure. I'm still sorting out my options."

He sounded like such an insincere idiot. If he was going to pull this off he needed to not sound like an insincere idiot. His teacher smiled at him once again. Shit.

"Well, I think you are very bright and would thrive at University. This program could be just the push you need to see that for yourself and pick up a few good habits. The more options to sort through the better, right?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. She was using his own words against him. He took too long to speak again and his teacher continued.

"I know you are only fifteen and these sorts of decisions seem like they are a million miles away, but the choices and habits we make today can really make the difference. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Not this speech again.

"I know your situation is difficult at home and you probably aren't used to people telling you how bright you are. I know you think I say this to all of my students. I don't. I think you have tremendous potential and I would never forgive myself if I didn't do my best to make you see it as well. I think this would be good for you."

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. His disinterested guardians had always been the elephant in the room since he'd started school...known and reviled but rarely discussed. Early on their tall tales of him being a delinquent were readily believed but that had been years ago. His consistently good behavior and his cousin's nonsense had made it clear where the truth lied. His teachers in the last few years had become much less afraid and much more piteous of him. He wasn't sure which he preferred.

He looked into his teacher's hopeful eyes and realized he couldn't say no. Maybe he did have some mysterious potential that he did not know of. It seemed like it was worth a shot and surely this Hermione girl couldn't be too bad. "Okay," he answered in a sigh.

"Excellent!" she said with a clap as she pulled out a packet and handed it over. "The program calls for you to meet once a week, but if you two agree to more meetings on your own that is fine. We've already arranged a weekly time that fits both of your schedules."

She'd set him up. She knew he would say yes and she had set him up. Mrs. Lucas was good.

He quickly scanned for the first meeting date. Tomorrow. Great.

"Normally the tutor would come to the student's home for these types of sessions but given your...situation...everyone felt it would be best if we switched that around for you."

He mutely nodded his understanding. "That's good. Thanks."

She'd mentioned the elephant as tactfully as possible but it was still awkward. And if they'd made special arrangements for him then that meant this Hermione girl probably knew why. At least it would save him from answering questions about his family. He hated when unsuspecting people asked innocent questions and he had to supply such thoroughly depressing answers.

"You'd better get going!" she chirped happily. He left the room in a near sprint before she could trick him into doing even more work.

By the time the practice session had ended he felt much better about the situation; football always managed to clear his head and burn off some energy. It wouldn't be too bad to try a bit harder and it would keep him away from his Aunt and Uncle's house for a few hours every week. Besides, how bad could this Hermione be? He suddenly realized there was someone who could provide that answer. He spotted his teammate on a nearby bench and quickly took a seat beside him.

"You have one of those tutors from Wellesley, right?"

Ron paused from taking off his boots and looked at Harry, the annoyance evident in his face. "Yes I'm receiving instruction, and yes I'm doing my best to stay eligible. Did Hoppes send you over to check on me?"

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. "It's nothing like that. I've signed up for it as well and I was just wondering how it was."

Ron shrugged as he went back to his task. "It's not too bad. My tutor is helpful. She's fit too. I suppose it's as good as it could be considering it's to do with school..."

That didn't sound bad. Good looking girl...get a bit better grades...make his teacher happy... maybe he hadn't been an idiot for signing up for this.

"As long as you aren't stuck with a she-devil like my first tutor it won't be bad."

"She-devil?" he asked. He suddenly felt a headache coming on.

"You have no idea," Ron replied in disgust, "a bloody nightmare she was. I suppose she might have been pretty if she took a break from all her scowling. And frowning. And lecturing." Ron shook his head, apparently remembering the eventful session spent with the girl. "She had a funny name too," Ron continued, "sounded like a witch from the middle ages."

"Hermione," Harry offered

"That's it!" Ron replied, suddenly realizing what was going on. "She's your tutor now isn't she?"

"Looks that way," he sighed.

Ron burst out laughing. It took him several seconds before he calmed himself and stood, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "You are royally fucked, mate."

He was thirty minutes into his first tutoring session and everything was going fine. Well...kind of fine...maybe. He wasn't quite sure because his tutor hadn't said much after introducing herself and quickly setting him to work. He wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, but as she reviewed his work she seemed to be becoming more and more annoyed. The odd part was he was almost positive he'd been doing well. He'd only had to ask a few questions throughout and she didn't act like his questions were too stupid. Wasn't that the point? Apparently, this Hermione girl didn't think so. The planned ninety minutes finally came to an end and as he was packing up his things she finally spoke.

"You're smart," she declared, her arms crossed.

"Thank you?" he replied, unable to manage a better response.

"They said you were smarter than the others I've helped but you are really smart."

Harry doubted Ron would consider his thirty minutes spent with this girl as helpful but he kept that thought to himself.

"You don't try hard at all do you?" she asked.

While Harry appreciated her directness he couldn't decide if he liked it. "I turn in my assignments on time," he answered with a shrug.

"Do you study for exams?" she continued, arms crossed.

For the first time, he saw a bit of the she-devil Ron had mentioned. He wasn't bothered though...it was actually kind of endearing. "Not really, no," he answered honestly.

"Well if you want my help you're going to have to try harder," she declared, her eyebrows furrowed in determination.

"Define try," he prompted, drawing an indignant huff from the girl.

"You know what I mean," she muttered in annoyance before grabbing his book and rifling through the pages. "I want you to study up to Chapter 32 before we meet next week," she ordered.

"We've only gotten to Chapter 28 in class!" he replied indignantly. She was definitely a she-devil.

"Fine," he muttered, grabbing the book from her hands and placing it in his bag. "See you next Thursday."

It was clear that his immediate agreement took the girl by surprise. "Good," she finally spluttered as he left the room.

He was seconds away from his escape before the voice of Hermione's mother stopped him.

"Would you like to stay for supper, Harry?"

He bit back a sigh. They definitely knew his family situation and were trying to help. He decided to follow his normal course of action whenever this happened: Accept their good deed, let them feel better about themselves, and let them move on to their next charity case. Best to get it over with. Besides, it smelled loads better than the meal in store for him at home.

"I'd love to," he replied with false pleasantness. He spotted Hermione standing in the doorway to the study. All traces of the she-devil had been replaced with...something. Not pity exactly...contemplation...consideration?

"Excellent!" Hermione's mother chimed. "I hope you like roast!" As he followed Mrs. Granger into the dining room he idly thought Hermione was quite pretty when she wasn't being a she-devil. He hated to admit it, but the scowling had been oddly appealing as well.

Harry collapsed on the porch steps in exhaustion. The mulching and entirely too hot May sun had thoroughly taken its toll and he was spent. Thanks to football, he considered himself pretty fit but this was...too much. He knew it would feel much better inside the house but sitting under the infernally hot sun was still preferable to being in the orbit of his infernally disinterested and annoying relatives. He tried not to think about the fact that his idiot cousin would be returning from boarding school in a month. His wallowing was interrupted by a now familiar voice.

"Harry?"

He looked up to see his tutor staring nervously at him. It felt odd...unnatural...to see her here. The seven Thursday afternoons he had spent at her house and then joining the Grangers for dinner had been a nice respite from Privet Drive's weariness. It was peaceful and accomodating and a bit noisy in the best kind of ways. It had been almost two months and it still felt odd having actual conversations over supper.

He realized how nice Hermione looked today. Not that she didn't normally look nice, but today, in her cornflower blue top and white shorts, he was suddenly very thankful for the unseasonably warm weather.

"What's going on?" he asked, doing his best to focus on her eyes.

His question seemed to startle her. She'd been staring at his chest and he realized his sopping wet white t-shirt was now relatively transparent. "I wanted to talk to you," she replied hesitantly.

Something was going on because the girl was never hesitant.

"Okay," he answered, scooting over to make room for her to sit next to him on the steps. She took the proferred seat but continued staring at him.

"I'm sorry about how gross I am," he offered as he gestured to his sweaty chest, "been working on the yard."

"It's fine. It's not gross at all- I mean, it's fine," she blurted. "I hope it's all right that I stopped by."

Harry stifled the comment that it was more than fine with him. His relatives on the other hand? Before he could speak she plowed on.

"I was wondering...my school is having a school formal in two weeks. I wasn't planning on going but then I thought...maybe...you would like to go with me?"

He was gobsmacked. He had been thinking recently how much he would like to do several other things with Hermione besides Maths. Evidently, she felt the same way? Maybe.

Apparently, he had remained gobsmacked and silent for too long for Hermione's tastes as she suddenly stood and started walking away, her head stubbornly facing down. "Just forget I said anything. I'll see you on Thur-"

"Wait!" he interrupted with a shout. "Please...wait. Can you give me two minutes to change and we can talk?"

Hermione turned and gave him an appraising look before nodding. He loved her appraising looks.

He quickly changed into a different set of rubbish (but dry) clothes and bolted down the stairs "The mulching is finished, Aunt Petunia!" he called as he quickly exited the house once.

"Fancy a walk?" he asked as casually as possible despite the hornet's nest that had suddenly cropped up in his stomach.

They walked a block to a nearby park, taking residence in two empty swings. The peaceful ebb and flow of the swings had helped still the hornet's nest a bit. Time to bring up the fucking elephant again.

"It's not that I don't want to go with you, Hermione. I do. It's just...I don't really have any proper clothes for something like that and my relatives would never...I'd just end up embarrassing you if I showed up in my jeans and rubbish trainers."

She remained silent for several moments, considering his words. He watched as she idly poked at the rocks on the ground with her feet.

"We've been in this park together before. Do you remember?" she asked, a hint of a smile on her face. "We were around six or seven. I was on this exact swing when this awful whale of a boy came up and started making fun of me for my hair and teeth," she began. "I was about to start crying when a much smaller boy told him to stop and punched him in the arm so he would chase him instead of bothering me. You ran away before I could thank you." .

Harry wished he'd remembered the event but the times he'd been chased by Dudley all seemed to blur into one perpetual memory these days. "I'm planning on getting a job this summer...maybe we could do something then?" he offered.

He'd never considered Hermione would be interested in him in that way before, but now it was all he could think about. His stomach clenched at the thought of her going to the dance with someone else. He suddenly despised the fictional someone else. The fictional someone else was a right bastard. He was so busy mentally tallying all the reasons Hermione wasn't really interested in him that he didn't realize she'd stood up from her swing and was now standing in front of him. She softly placed her hands over his on the swing chains. She looked slightly terrified yet determined.

"It's a date," she murmured before leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.

He'd been so close to his permanent escape. There'd been bumps along the way...horrific bumps sometimes...but he'd only thirteen months to go after soldiering through one hundred seventy-seven sodding months. Now it was all fucked. It felt like the elephant was poking its head out of his backpack...eager to finally be talked about in all its glory.

So close.

As he wandered aimlessly through the streets of Surrey he cycled through his limited and shitty options. There was Mrs. Lucas….maybe his football coach...or one of his mates from football. Ron had so many siblings his parents probably wouldn't even notice another one wandering about. He'd had the number memorized to Social Services for years but wanted nothing to do with them. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

The wonky roller handle on his suitcase finally gave out and Harry fought the urge to scream. It's only a suitcase handle, he repeated to himself, it's only a suitcase handle.

It took a minute or two but he managed to force himself back from the ledge he'd been teetering over for years. One hundred seventy-seven months to be exact. So he did. He pushed himself back from the edge and then pushed the now useless handle back in as best as he could.

He mentally congratulated himself for not panicking. It had been fifty-seven months since he'd last panicked and he would be damned if he'd start again now. Doing it now would mean they'd won and he refused to let that happen ever again. He took a breath, picked up the battered suitcase, and began wandering aimlessly once again. Except his wandering wasn't as aimless as he had fooled himself into believing. A few minutes later he found himself knocking on the door of Twelve Thornbrook Lane.

"Harry?" Mrs. Granger greeted in surprise, clearly concerned at his current state.

He knew he looked ridiculous with his wonky suitcase, filled to bursting backpack, and worn pair of football boots slung over his shoulder.

Don't panic.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, struggling to find the words and unable to manage looking her in the eyes. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

He'd expected Mrs. Granger to awkwardly offer help now that he'd forced himself on her. That's how it normally worked. Most people were always eager to offer a simple meal or kind word...but when it advanced beyond the simple things...when it became messy and complicated...it was always awkward and forced and over as quickly as possible.

"Let's have some tea and you can tell me all about what's happened," she offered, grabbing the suitcase from his hand. "Ohh, this is heavy!" she said with false cheerfulness as she placed it next to the stairwell. He realized that he hadn't moved and quickly entered the house. He heard the soft click of the front door being shut behind him and felt Mrs. Granger slip the backpack off his shoulders. He watched her place his backpack and boots on top of his suitcase.

"We'll sort it out, Harry," she comforted as she led him to the kitchen. "Let's have some tea and sort it out."

Harry sat on the bed in his temporary room and continued staring at the closed door. Mrs. Granger had told him to come up here and rest but he'd pretty much stuck to sitting and staring and fearing the worst. Mr. Granger would probably want him out immediately and as brilliant as his time with Hermione had been, that was probably shot to hell as well.

He'd always assumed she'd eventually sort out how much better she could do, but he'd hoped it would take a few more months before she moved on to greener pastures. Don't panic, he repeated for the umpteenth time.

He reminded himself that Mrs. Granger didn't chuck him out after he told her what had happened. She just poured him tea and shoved biscuits in his face whenever he was about to break. She was a good person who had offered him their guest room and said that they would sort it out. Aside from sport he'd never been part of a they. That felt nice to hear, even if it was just temporary.

He heard a soft tap on the door before it slowly opened, revealing Hermione. She was carrying a tray of food and seemed to be doing her best not to look worried.

"Mum thought you might want to eat up here tonight," she informed as she set the tray on a nearby table and took a seat next to him.

"What did she tell you?" he asked, wanting to get the uncomfortable conversation over with as soon as possible.

"She said you had a disagreement with your uncle and they told you to leave...and that you'd be staying with us for a while," she replied.

He chuckled at the polite phrasing before realizing his reprieve had gone from overnight to awhile. He felt soft fingers curl around his own and his resolve began weakening, and there wasn't a biscuit in sight to stem the tide.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, furiously wiping his eyes.

"For what?" she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. Her voice sounded throaty and raw. He reckoned she'd been crying about him. She wrapped her free hand around his back and he leaned into her just a bit. It still felt so foreign...being touched. Wholly unnatural but not unwelcome. They'd kissed several times over the last month but it was always Hermione who initiated the contact. Always. It had been brilliant while it lasted.

"I'm sorry I'm here. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot with all this."

Hermione pulled back, a mixture of suspicion and hurt in her expression. "How are you putting me on the spot?"

"You know," he offered brusquely, not wanting to say the words out loud. "Us," he blurted. It was the best he could do.

She pulled him close once again. He felt her take a deep breath before speaking. "No matter what happens between us I will always be your friend. I've only known you for a few months and you're already my best friend. Surely you've sorted that out?"

He didn't know how she managed it but she was always saying things like that. Things that he thought in his brain but was too afraid to say out loud. He was tired of worrying about the sodding elephant and started talking before he lost his nerve.

"I received my first wages today," he began. "My Uncle said I had to give them half of what I earned going forward for putting a roof over my head and food on my plate." He heard something akin to a growl in his ear and continued.

"I refused and we started arguing. I usually don't argue. Then he chucked me." He felt Hermione begin softly shaking and guessed that she'd started crying.

"I'm so glad you came here," she eventually mumbled after gathering herself.

"Me too."

An audible groan from his stomach broke the mood spectacularly, causing Hermione to let out a small laugh. She grabbed the tray and set it between them. While he missed the contact it was nice to be sitting across from her. Seeing her smiling at him...sitting cross-legged in her school uniform with only the tray between them...it was nice...almost like a proper date.

Before he could do it himself Hermione speared a bit of roast and held the fork in front of his mouth. As depressing as the day had been he couldn't help but smile at Hermione's stern expression. He took the offered bite and watched as Hermione helped herself to some as well.

"It's good," he commented as another bite floated his way.

"Mum never makes roast for me," Hermione sighed dramatically and Harry couldn't help but smile again.

As they continued eating in companionable silence, he suddenly realized it was okay to be afraid. The important bit was not letting it stop you from taking a risk when it made sense and the odds were in your favor. He reckoned it was okay to take a leap sometimes even if the odds weren't so great. Some things were worth the risk.

He swallowed his last bite, leaned forward, and took a risk.