Chapter 3

July 2001

When Harry arrived at Hermione's flat a few weeks later, she didn't answer the door, so he let himself inside.

"Hermione?" he called once he entered.

"I'm in here!" her voice replied from the bedroom.

Harry found her in her bathroom, using her wand to curl her hair. He was surprised she wasn't already ready. They had to leave in ten minutes, and Hermione was one of those "early is on time and on time is late" people.

"Why are you curling your hair? It's already curly," Harry asked as he took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"I'm just fixing a few curls that look weird. I - " she put her wand down and turned to face Harry. "It's stupid, isn't it? Why am I trying this hard?"

"What? No, I don't think it's stupid. I didn't say that." Now that Hermione was facing Harry, he could tell she had a small amount of makeup on. Her eyes looked larger, and brighter, somehow, and her clothes were nice too. She had on a pair of dark jeans with a dainty, cream blouse covered by a red cardigan.

"You look...good."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Try it with less of a pause next time," she said snippily. She picked up her wand and resumed curling her hair.

Harry suddenly got the feeling that this was oddly intimate for the two of them. He was sitting on her bed - the place she slept every night - watching her get ready. Was it weird that he was in here? When he'd walked into her flat, she'd said, "I'm in here," not, "Come in here."

He stood up and walked to the window. He was considering opening it, since he could use a gulp of fresh air. What was wrong with him? This was Hermione, and she didn't seem to care that Harry was in her bedroom. He was trying to remember if he'd ever been in her bedroom before. Not since the day he'd helped her move in several years before, but that had been different. They hadn't been alone, for one, and all her things had been in boxes.

"I'm ready," Hermione announced from just behind him, causing Harry to jump.

She laughed at him. "Did I scare you? I thought as an Auror, you're supposed to know when someone's creeping up on you. Constant vigilance, right?"

Harry ignored the jibe and studied her. She bit her lip, which just added to her overall appeal. "We're going to try this again," she said with a shy smile. "No hesitation this time, okay? How do I look?"

"Very good," Harry said honestly, then he backed away to put more space between them. When he reached the doorway, he motioned toward his outfit, jeans and a blue and white checkered shirt.

"What about me?"

Hermione winced and Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

"Oh, that's actually an improvement," she joked.

She'd closed the distance between them and was pushing him into the hall. Harry was relieved they were back to their normal, playful selves. He had no idea what that weird feeling had been in her bedroom. He figured he was just nervous about tonight.

This was the first public appearance he'd be making since his breakup with Ginny. And it was one of her Quidditch matches. The reporters were going to have a field day. But when Ginny had come to see him at work a few days ago and told him that she'd understand if he didn't want to go to her game, he'd blurted out that he was definitely going to go. This was one of her team's biggest matches of the season and he wanted to be there to support her.

Tonight was sort of a big deal for Hermione, too. Ron was bringing Lucy, and this was the first time they'd be hanging out together in a small group. It was just going to be Ron, Lucy, Harry, and Hermione watching the match together.

George was going with Angelina, Percy, and some of his friends from Hogwarts, but they'd be sitting on the opposite end of the stadium. Neville was attending some Herbology conference this weekend and Luna and Rolf were out of town, looking for some exotic animal Harry had never heard of.

"We've got this," Hermione said when Harry had reached the hall just outside her front door. He jumped again when she placed a hand on his arm. How had she managed to sneak up on him a second time?

"You're so jumpy," she said, pulling her hand away. "It's not going to be that bad."

Harry nodded and they both Disapparated to the Apparition point outside the stadium in Scotland. As they walked up the path to the stadium, Harry noticed that he wasn't the only one who was jumpy. Hermione was very fidgety. She kept crossing and uncrossing her arms and moving her purse from one arm to the other.

Harry conceded that this was harder for her than it was for him. At least Ginny wasn't dating someone else. He decided to try and reassure her. "I know you lost your breakup and all," he started to say, "but-"

Hermione stopped in place. "What?"

"What?" Harry asked, stopping to look back at her.

"What do you mean I lost my breakup? It was mutual."

"But Ron moved on first," Harry explained.

Hermione resumed walking slowly and Harry had to reduce his pace considerably to remain at her side. "Is that a thing?" she asked.

"Uh...yeah?"

"But, it's not serious, this thing with Lucy. Even Ron says so."

"Doesn't matter," Harry shrugged. "He's shagging someone else first, so he wins."

Hermione stopped walking again. When Harry looked back at her, she was wearing an expression of extreme consternation. "Is he having sex with her? Did he tell you that?"

"No," Harry said, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. "We're not going to talk about this."

Hermione nodded and once she continued walking at a normal pace again, Harry let go of her arm. He was surprised she hadn't figured this out on her own, and now he felt really bad for being the one to bring it up, especially before she'd have to spend the next few hours with Ron and Lucy.

"He didn't tell me anything, by the way. I just assumed," Harry said.

"Yeah, solid assumption. Of course they're shagging." Her voice was sad and Harry felt even worse. He was such an idiot.

They'd reached the entrance to the stadium and once inside, Harry pulled Hermione to the side. "Okay, I have something that will cheer you up," he muttered conspiratorially, "but you can't tell Ron I told you."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Do you know how Lucy and Ron met?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Ron was eating lunch with Hannah and Neville at the Leaky Cauldron, and Lucy came up to say hi to Hannah. Hannah invited her to sit and chat with them, and soon Lucy's real reason for stopping by became apparent."

"What?" Hermione asked.

Harry smiled. "The real reason she'd interrupted their lunch was because she wanted Ron to sign her chocolate frog card."

Hermione was overcome with laughter. She grabbed Harry's forearm and leaned into him as she replayed the scene in her mind. "That is perfect," she said through her laughs. Harry joined her, glad he'd managed to make her feel better.

"Thanks, Harry, that's just what I needed."

"Anytime. Are you ready now?" He held his elbow out and she linked her arm with his.

"Yeah, let's do this," she said with a determined expression on her face.

An hour later, when the Quidditch match was well underway, Hermione leaned over and asked Harry, "Why didn't they try a Pinkleton Ploy there? Wouldn't that have been smarter?"

Before Harry could answer, Ron exclaimed from his other side, sounding almost accusatory, "Did you just pronounce a Quidditch play accurately and use it in the correct context?"

Hermione just shrugged, but there was an unmistakable smugness about the look on her face.

"Where's your book?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'm trying to watch the game, Ron," Hermione said, waving him off. She turned to Harry. "So, I guess I was right?" She looked very pleased with herself, and Harry knew that she knew she was right. He rolled his eyes.

Ron was still glaring at them. "I'm waiting for you to explain what's going on here."

Hermione shrugged again and said with her eyes still focused on pitch, "Harry's been teaching me about Quidditch."

"I tried to teach you about Quidditch for years. Now Harry tries and you finally listen."

"Harry's a better teacher. You remember the DA."

"Harry doesn't want to be in the middle of this!" Harry announced loudly.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked from Ron's other side.

"Nothing," Ron muttered, placing his arm around her. He shook his head and grumbled something under his breath before focusing back on the game.

"Did you catch that one?" Harry asked Hermione, motioning toward Ginny and one of her teammates who had just performed a complicated weaving maneuver.

"Mulligan," Hermione recited.

Harry nodded, slightly impressed she'd managed to pick up so much in just a few weeks. Then again, this was Hermione. "What's with the sudden interest in Quidditch?" he asked her.

"All you ever want to do is fly or talk about Quidditch, and I really, really hate flying…"

"I like other things," Harry replied, affronted.

"No, you don't," Hermione said simply.

Harry leaned in closer to Hermione and said under his breath, "And that's the only reason? Not-" he cocked his head toward Ron and Lucy.

Hermione looked back at the game. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry could tell by her sly smile she was lying. She'd probably studied up on all those Quidditch plays just to annoy Ron.

He shook his head and nudged her in the side. "You're very conniving, Hermione."

"Says the person who was almost sorted into Slytherin," she retorted.

"That wasn't me. The sorting hat was picking up on that piece of Voldemort's soul that was inside me."

"Uh huh. Sure…"

On Sunday, two days after the Quidditch match, Harry arrived at Hermione's flat just after breakfast, brandishing a rolled-up magazine.

"What's that?" Hermione asked. She was lying on her stomach on the couch, reading a book.

"We're dating," Harry proclaimed as he took a seat in the chair closest to her and tossed the magazine onto the coffee table.

Hermione sat up and peered over at the magazine. There were several photos of her and Harry on the cover, all from the night of Ginny's Quidditch match.

There was one of Hermione leaning into Harry and laughing, with a hand on his arm. There was a photo of them walking arm and arm through the stadium, and another of Harry holding Hermione's outer robe for her as she put her arms into it. The largest photo was of Harry leaning in close and whispering something into Hermione's ear as she grinned.

Hermione had to admit that out of context, it did look a bit like they were together and out on a double date with Ron and Lucy. She shrugged and leaned back into the couch.

"I suppose we are dating, good to know," she said as she picked up the book she'd abandoned earlier. "Was there anything noteworthy in the accompanying article?"

Harry leaned back and propped his legs up on the coffee table. "Not really. It was just a detailed account of our long, 'on again, off again' relationship."

Hermione lowered her book and frowned. "What?"

Harry looked at her, confused. "What?"

She kicked his feet off the table. "No shoes on the coffee table."

Harry rolled his eyes and removed his shoes, then propped his legs up again. He gave her a look that said, "Better?" but she wasn't paying attention. She was biting the inside of her cheek and looking out the window.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Were they implying that we'd cheated on Ron and Ginny with this 'on again, off again' thing?" Hermione was fine with people assuming she was dating Harry, she knew it would blow over once something more exciting happened for the papers report on, but she didn't want anyone thinking she'd been unfaithful to Ron.

Harry waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Oh, no, nothing like that." He leaned back and pulled off his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We were first 'on' in fourth year, during the love triangle with Krum," he began to explain.

Hermione huffed at that and Harry turned his head toward her and smiled. "Then we were 'off' in fifth year, when I went mad."

"Right," she joked. "I didn't want to date a madman."

"No, of course not," Harry said seriously as he put his glasses back on. "Then we dated again in sixth year, because I was popular again, but I broke your heart and left you for Ginny."

"I remember," she said solemnly. "I've just recently forgiven you for that."

Harry smiled and leaned toward her. "Well, then you tried to get back at me by dating my best friend. But both relationships were doomed, since we never stopped loving each other."

"Oh, is that why those relationships failed? Good to know."

Harry shrugged. "And now we're back together, giving it another go, but the reporter at Witch Weekly doesn't think it's going to work out."

Harry sat back in the chair and Hermione looked over at the magazine again. She smiled as she saw the photo of her laughing with Harry and remembered what he'd told her about how Ron and Lucy had met. That had been sweet of him, and exactly the pick-me-up she'd needed to make it through that awkward night.

"That is quite a wild ride," she said airily. "If we're doomed to break each other's hearts again, we may as well end it now."

Harry hummed in response and they were quiet for several moments, lost in their thoughts. After a while, Hermione asked, "Do you want to date me?"

Harry's head snapped toward her so fast that it hurt his neck a little. "What?"

"Not for real, obviously. I'm just asking whether or not you want me to confirm this story when I'm inevitably asked about it tomorrow. It may help stave off some of your admirers."

"Oh, them." Harry shook his head. "You don't have to do that. I don't want to subject you to the hate mail."

"Yeah," Hermione said, picking up her book again. "I guess love mail is better than hate mail."

Harry hmphed in response. He'd been getting mail from random witches ever since Witch Weekly had reported on his and Ginny's breakup. "Someone sent me their eyelashes," he said with a sigh.

Hermione lowered her book. "What?"

"In the mail. I got someone's eyelashes a few days ago. I'm not sure what I'm meant to do with them. But that wasn't even the worst one."

"It wasn't?" Hermione put her book down on the table and pulled her legs up under her. "Which one was the worst?"

Harry leaned his head back on the couch and propped his legs up on the table again. "Someone sent me a howler that just consisted of loud moans and them wailing my name, like - you know -"

Hermione burst into laughter as Harry threw one of his arms over his face.

She nudged his leg with her foot. "Oh, the pains of being the wonderful Harry Potter. Should I be jealous? Are you going to leave me for one of these lovely witches?"

Harry kept his arm over his eyes, but she saw him smile. "I don't know - I told you what the reporter said. This relationship is doomed to fail…"

Hermione laughed again. This was so ridiculous. It was insane that there were hordes of witches who would kill to be in her position right now, alone with Harry. And what was even more insane was how they'd somehow convinced themselves they were in love with him, even though they'd never met him.

Harry had sat up and was looking at her curiously now. "Do you have any admirers?" he asked.

"Nope," she said quickly, picking up her book again.

Harry noted she looked a little sad and wished he hadn't brought it up. "Hey, before you get too comfortable, ask me what we're doing today."

She smirked and kept her eyes on her book. "I know what we're doing today. Flying, or Quidditch."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Actually, no."

Hermione put her book down. "Really?"

"Yes, really, I heard you loud and clear the other day."

Hermione put her book down for good this time. "Okay, lover, light of my life and my one, true soulmate-" Harry stuck his tongue out at her, "- what are we doing today?"

"It's a surprise."

Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't really like surprises. "I need to know a little more than that. Inside or outside? Muggle or Wizarding world? Do I need to bring anything?"

"Muggle World, inside and outside, just bring yourself," Harry listed off.

Hermione nodded. "Okay, I'm intrigued. When are we leaving? Now?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, go ahead and finish that chapter, I can tell you're dying to. I brought this to read," he shifted and pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet out of his robes. "Hopefully, I can find something with more substance," he muttered as he opened it to the first page.

He bent over and started reading the paper and Hermione turned back to her book, but her mind kept drifting as she tried to guess where Harry was going to take her later.

She hadn't meant to offend him the other night by saying he only liked flying and Quidditch, but it was sort of true, and she was getting tired of those two activities. If she had known he was open to doing other things, she would have complained about it earlier.

A few hours later, Hermione was leaning over the counter, watching in awe as Harry chopped a bell pepper. His big surprise had been a trip to the farmer's market, and the second, indoor activity was cooking a meal with the ingredients they'd bought.

Hermione could tell by the way Harry was chopping that he actually knew what he was doing. She'd asked Ron to chop a bell pepper once, and he'd proceeded to chop the entire thing with his wand stems, seeds, and all. Harry, alternatively, had washed the pepper, cut off the top, and scraped away the insides before putting it on a cutting board (something else Ron always forgot to do). And now, Harry was dicing the pepper by hand.

She had known Harry for most of her life but had never once seen him cook. "You know what you're doing," she said, still surprised by what she was seeing.

Harry shrugged and his lips turned up slightly.

"I didn't know you cooked. How have I never seen you cook before?"

"I cooked a lot when I was younger." Hermione saw a dark look pass over his face. "Once I was on my own, I avoided it; bad memories."

Hermione nodded and her chest clenched like it always did when she thought of Harry's depressing childhood. She couldn't believe Dumbledore had allowed him to live there with those awful Muggles. She'd always respected their former Headmaster, but this one thing he'd got very wrong.

"Anyway," Harry continued, eager to change the subject. "A few weeks ago, I tried it again. I was bored and had a craving for a home-cooked meal, and I was surprised to find I liked cooking. Turns out without my aunt forcing me to make bland recipes and peering over my shoulder while listing off everything I'm doing wrong, it's sort of relaxing."

"Well, I wish you'd figured it out earlier," Hermione grumbled. "I was the one cooking everything in that blasted tent and I could have used some help."

Harry's face twisted in disgust. "I'm glad it was you. There's no way to make wild mushrooms with no seasoning taste good."

"Agreed," Hermione said with a grimace. She still got a little sick every time she saw mushrooms. "Okay." She stood up and went to join Harry in the kitchen. "How can I help?"

Harry cocked his head toward the eggplant. "Slice those."

Hermione washed her hands and before she started slicing, she turned to Harry. "Full disclosure. I might peek over your shoulder and tell you all the ways you're doing it wrong."

Harry smirked and gently kicked the back of her leg. "Get to work, darling."

Hermione cringed. "Ugh, darling. I hate that one."

[They'd been teasing each other all day with fake terms of endearment. Both of them were having way more fun with the whole false relationship thing than was probably normal for two people who were "just friends."]

"What would you prefer?" Harry asked, moving on to chop an onion now. "Baby? Sweetheart? Honey?"

Hermione stopped to consider it seriously. "Goddess," she said eventually.

"Hmm, you think a lot of yourself," he teased.

"Well, I did manage to snag Harry Potter."

"Oh, and here I thought you actually loved me," he said bitterly. Hermione looked at him and could tell she'd struck a nerve. She nudged him with her hip and he looked up from his chopping.

"All kidding aside, Harry. I do love you - not, in that way, but still quite a lot, and it has nothing to do with your fame. It's a bit of a deterrent, if I'm being completely honest."

Harry smiled widely and nudged her hip back. "Thanks." Then he added, a few seconds later, "Cupcake."

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

"We should do this," Hermione announced an hour later, as they were eating the ratatouille they'd prepared together.

"We just did," Harry pointed out, motioning toward the plates in front of them.

"No, like, regularly. I like cooking but cooking for one is depressing. It's so much work for this tiny portion, or if you make the whole recipe, you have to eat the same thing for days. But we can cook together, like, once a week. At least until one of us finds someone else."

"Sure," he replied with a shrug.

"I mean, if you don't want to, I get it," Hermione added in a rush. Maybe it was too weird. People already incorrectly thought they were dating. What would they think if they heard about this?

"I just said yes, didn't I?"

"Okay. But your kitchen is much larger. Let's cook there next time."

"It's a date," Harry said with a wink. Hermione shook her head and turned back to her plate.

They ate in silence for the next several minutes while Hermione thought about how nice it was to hang out with someone like Harry who she could sit quietly with, without it feeling uncomfortable. She figured months alone together on the run had done that for them. She remembered whole days when they would only exchange a few words.

Harry was thinking about how he never thought he'd enjoy Hermione's company so much. All his memories of his time alone with her from before, were kind of boring. But he realized it hadn't been fair to judge her on those interactions.

In school, she was completely committed to her studies, and now, she was still pretty committed to work, but hadn't done any on the weekends since that first time he'd hung out with her.

And the reason all that time with her in the tent had been so miserable was because they were both so depressed about Ron leaving and their moods had been further dampened by the Horcrux. None of that had been her fault.

Hermione was actually pretty fun, and he felt bad he'd written her off before. He was glad their mutual breakups were forcing them to spend time together. In some ways, he even preferred her to Ron. With Ron, there was still a lingering feeling of jealousy Harry had to look out for.

For instance, last week, Robards had assigned Harry as the lead Auror on their new case, investigating a dark wizard who was trading illegal potions. When Ron had found out, Harry could tell he was trying hard to act supportive but was obviously put-out and trying to hide it.

But when Harry had told Hermione, she'd been genuinely happy for him, and told him he should be very proud, since it was a prestigious assignment for a Junior Auror.

"Hey, I have a question," Harry said.

"Hmm," Hermione replied as she finished chewing the bite in her mouth.

Harry was suddenly nervous. He was about to ask her to go to the Dursleys with him next weekend and felt really bad about it. He usually took Ginny to the bi-annual dinners at his childhood home, but that obviously wasn't an option anymore. Going alone also wasn't an option, he didn't think he'd have the strength to manage that.

So, that left Ron and Hermione. He thought Hermione was the better pick, since she was more comfortable in the Muggle world, but he felt bad subjecting her to such an awful meal. What had she done to deserve that? What had he done, for that matter?

"Go on, it's me," she said gently, picking up on his apprehension.

"Yeah. Uh - I'm going to the Dursleys next weekend."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I still see them twice a year, and it's pretty boring, and awkward, but, well, Ginny usually comes and-"

"Yes."

"Yes what?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll go with you. That's what you were about to ask, right?"

"Um, yeah. Are you sure?" Harry bit his lip and looked away from Hermione. "It's going to be a lot of uncomfortable silences, and glares, and the food won't even be that good and-"

"I said yes, didn't I?" She said with a smile, copying his flippant response from earlier.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. A part of him had sort of expected her to say no, or to at least be hesitant. But that had been stupid of him. When had Hermione ever not been there for him? She was always there when he needed her. "Thanks."

"Anytime, lovebug."

Dinner with the Dursleys started out okay. Vernon droned on about drills, then Dudley talked about university and how he still hadn't decided on a course of study. Vernon had clapped him on the back and declared that he had plenty of time to decide. He'd glared at Harry and said it was unnatural for people his age to think they knew what they wanted to do for the rest of their life.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry placed a hand on her leg and she held her tongue. When the topic turned to Harry, as it usually did for about two minutes out of each meal, things went south.

"How's work?" Vernon asked in a tone that made it clear he didn't care.

"Good," Harry said quickly.

"You should tell them about that new case you were assigned," Hermione chimed in.

The entire table went silent. Shit, Harry had forgotten to tell her they never discussed the Wizarding World at these dinners. He gently stepped on her foot.

"What?" she leaned in and whispered.

"They don't know what I do."

"Nor do we want to know," Vernon said loudly.

Hermione glared at him. "And why not?"

"We have an arrangement that Harry doesn't discuss your world in this house, girl," Vernon replied nastily.

"Don't call her girl. She has a name; it's Hermione," Harry snapped.

Petunia placed a hand on her husband's arm. "I don't see the harm in hearing what his job is. We should be proud he has one, you know how worried we were he'd end up living off the government."

Hermione made a face as Harry rolled his eyes. "Well out with it, what is it you do?" Vernon asked grudgingly.

Harry bit his lip. He was annoyed with Hermione but knew this wasn't her fault. He hadn't prepared her well enough. He'd assumed she'd be fine, since she knew how to act in the Muggle world, but he kept forgetting that preparing someone for the Muggle world and preparing them for the Dursleys were two separate things.

His aunt and uncle were nearly impossible to explain. He could never properly convey how bad they were to someone who hadn't met them.

"Policeman," Harry mumbled under his breath. He knew the reactions were going to be bad and steeled himself for the inevitable fallout.

"What?" Vernon grunted. "You're mumbling, boy."

"He said policeman, but that's not quite right. It's more elite than that, like a detective in this world," Hermione explained.

Everyone was quiet, then Vernon burst into laughter. Even Dudley and Petunia smiled to themselves.

"And what is so funny?" Hermione asked, angry now. "Is it so hard to believe that the same person who defeated the darkest, most powerful wizard of all time would go into that line of work?"

"You defeated him?" Petunia asked quickly, turning to Harry.

Harry nodded while Vernon asked, "Says who? Him? Were there any witnesses?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Vernon. "I saw him do it."

Hermione noticed that Dudley looked impressed. Petunia was frowning, and Harry was looking down at his plate.

"Impossible," Vernon declared.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked him.

"Hermione," Harry said under his breath, a clear warning. She ignored him and turned back to Vernon.

"I'm referring to his behavioral challenges as a child," Vernon explained. "That, and whatever trouble his parents got up to that got them killed-"

"No!" Harry jumped to his feet in a rage. Hermione could almost feel the magic crackling on the surface of his skin and wondered if his cousin, who was on his other side, could feel it too.

"I've told you before, you can insult me all you want, I know you can't help yourself, but my parents are off limits!" Harry threw his napkin on the table and stormed out of the dining room.

Hermione glared at all of them one at a time before going to join Harry. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew her words would be lost on them. She stopped in the hall and took a deep breath. That's when she noticed it. A door under the stairs.

She crept across the hall and peered inside. It was dark, so she pulled on a nearby chain to turn on the light bulb. The small cupboard was packed with boxes. She was about to close the door when she noticed the boxes were piled on a small camp bed. That's when her heart shattered.

Harry had told her long ago that he'd slept in a room under the stairs growing up. She hadn't been able to picture it, since she'd only ever seen cupboards under the stairs. Now she understood. Surely no one could be cruel enough to let a child sleep here, but here was the proof. Why else would there be a bed here?

She leaned against the door frame as tears flooded her eyes. She didn't know what depressed her more, picturing Harry in here as five-year-old, probably afraid of the dark, or as she'd first met him, eleven and much too big for this cramped space. What kind of people could treat a child like that? Especially one as kind and loving as Harry.

She wiped her eyes and went out the front door. Harry was sitting on the doorstep with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his hands.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione started. "I shouldn't have pushed. You know I'm too nosy. And I-"

"It's fine," Harry cut in. "Just shut up and come sit here with me."

Hermione sat next to him, as instructed, then racked her brain for something appropriate to say. But although she knew more words than most people, none of them seemed adequate for the present moment.

Harry spoke first. "See that hydrangea bush?" He cocked his head to a large bush on his right.

Hermione nodded.

"That summer after fourth year, I would lie in those, listening to the news coming out of the window. It was better than watching with my aunt and uncle, since they were suspicious about what I'd want to watch the news for. Anyway, I was just waiting to hear confirmation that Voldemort had come back. I was sure there would be some dumbed down version of it reported in the Muggle news. But, well..."

Harry didn't know why he'd told her that. The memory had popped into his mind and he felt like he had to say something, but didn't want to talk about what had just happened inside. He was rethinking bringing Hermione tonight. He should have chosen Ron. Hermione was so intuitive and now she knew.

Ron would have been like Ginny. He would have noticed how awful the Durselys were and told Harry he didn't know how he'd put up with them growing up, but he wouldn't have made the connection between how they were now, and how that would have felt to a child. How it would have been if the only adults in your life, your only family, hated you, never thought you were good enough, and made their opinions on the matter known daily.

"I didn't know how bad it really was," Hermione whispered, as if reading his thoughts.

Yep, Harry thought to himself. She knew.

Hermione was thinking of all the stories Harry had told her about his childhood in a different light. One that stuck out was a conversation with Ron about spiders. Ron was explaining why he hated them so much, telling that story again of how Fred and George had turned his teddy bear into a spider. Harry had chimed in and said he didn't mind them. He'd joked that growing up, the spiders in his room had been some of his best friends.

Hermione knew now the joke wasn't far from the truth. She laid her head on his shoulder. She was wondering now how Ginny got through these without hexing someone. Her temper was worse than Hermione's.

Harry was thinking of Ginny too. He'd prepared her so thoroughly, much more than he had Hermione, mostly because Ginny had grown up in a wizarding family. He'd told her it was best if she didn't talk, and that if she did, to make no mention of the magical world.

She'd held his hand under the table, bit her tongue, and once they got back home, she'd insulted the Dursleys and pointed out everything wrong with each one for hours. They'd had a laugh, then moved on.

"Harry, I need to tell you something," Hermione's voice cut into Harry's thoughts. Here it was. He thought she'd at least wait until they got back to his place before starting in on whatever lecture she had planned. He took a breath and turned to face her.

Hermione put her hands on Harry's arms, then rubbed them up and down a few times as she tried to work up the courage to say what was on her mind. "Okay," she finally began.

Harry nodded for her to continue.

"I know you're going to hate this and think I'm too opinionated. And I'm sure you've already decided you're bringing Ron with you next time, but I have to get this out, and after I do, I won't bring it up again."

She paused to take another breath and strengthened her grip on his arms.

"These Muggles are awful. It's clear they never loved you, and still don't, but that is not due to any failing of yours. There is nothing wrong with you, Harry. The way they treat you, that's because of them, not you. You are a remarkable person, and everyone else in your life who has gotten to know you has loved you: Me, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville. Adults too. Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, McGonagall, Molly and Arthur."

Tears were flowing freely down Harry's face but he didn't move to wipe them away. Hermione was holding his arms, for one, but more than that, she'd finally seen the truth of how he'd grown up, which was the most personal thing he had to share. What were a few tears after that?

"And these dinners," Hermione continued. "You should stop coming to these. You don't owe them anything. I know you've said your cousin is better alone, so maybe just meet up with him separately, away from here and this awful house."

Hermione sighed and finally dropped Harry's arms. "I know I'm overstepping. I just - it kills me to see you hurting, and it's obvious these dinners hurt you. I don't know. Sorry, Harry. I know I made it much worse tonight, and I didn't mean to."

Hermione turned back to face the road and wiped a few tears that had fallen onto her cheeks. She also wanted to give Harry a chance to wipe his own tears away.

Harry was reeling. The coldness that had settled into the pit of his stomach as soon as he'd sat down at the dining room table was finally starting to dissipate. Harry had known he needed something from these dinners but wasn't sure what. He'd only managed to pinpoint that he couldn't get there alone.

So, he'd come every few months with Ginny, and they'd both stayed silent, then insulted the Dursleys later. But that hadn't been what his heart was longing for. This was it. He needed someone else to know. He needed them to tell him that none of it had been his fault, then he needed permission to leave it all behind. Hermione had given all of that to him in under a minute. He should have brought her sooner.

Harry wiped his eyes, then stood up and offered his hand to Hermione. He pulled her to a standing position and carefully placed his hands on her arms, like she had done to him. She waited for his scolding, but it never came. Instead, he pulled her close and hugged her tight.

They didn't say anything. They didn't have to.

After a long time, when Harry pulled away, he turned back toward the house, but Hermione caught his hand. "No. Let's leave."

He was about to protest when she continued, "I know it's rude, but who cares? They were rude."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, okay." He figured nothing was as bad as how he'd left them that summer before third year, when he'd blown up Aunt Marge.

They walked down Privet Drive in silence, heading for a copse of trees where they could Disapparate without being seen. Once they got there, Hermione shook her purse and said with a small smile, "I have something to cheer you up."

"Really? What?"

To Harry's surprise, she pulled his broomstick out of her bag. She looked around to ensure they were still alone before handing it to him. "I expected something like this might happen, so I brought that just in case."

"What are you expecting me to do with this?" Harry asked, still confused.

"Fly home. I know it's a long way, but it'll be a good opportunity to clear your head, and I think by the time you get back to London you'll feel better."

Harry started shaking his head. "You do know that's illegal."

"Oh, right, I brought this too." Hermione reached back into her bag and pulled out Harry's invisibility cloak.

"When did you get this? Wait - was that why you were taking forever in the loo, earlier?"

Hermione shrugged.

Harry let out a laugh. Nosy indeed. He was remembering how awkward he'd felt sitting in her bedroom a week ago. Clearly, she didn't have the same qualms about being in his bedroom.

Harry pulled Hermione in for another hug, then whispered into her hair, "Come with me."

She laughed and pushed him away. "No, thank you. You will certainly be flying higher than ten feet. I'll Apparate back to your house and meet you there."

"Come on," Harry said as he swung his leg over the broom. "I'm not going to let you fall. And this will make me feel better."

"Harry...I really don't want to…" she whined.

"And I really want you to…" he whined back. "Now get on here, we both know you're going to give in, so let's just skip forward to that part."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but still walked over and mounted the broom, just in front of him. Harry cast Disillusionment Charms on the broom, then the two of them, just in case, before draping the cloak over them. Hermione applied Sticking Charms between the cloak and their arms so it wouldn't fly away.

When they were invisible, Harry corrected Hermione's grip on the broom, then wrapped one of his arms around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. He kept his other hand on top of hers, so he could guide the broom.

"Ready?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded and a chill went down her spine. She didn't know if it was due to the feeling of Harry's warm breath on her neck, or the fear at the thought of how high up they were about to be.

Harry kicked off and gradually rose in altitude, so as not to alarm Hermione too much. He could feel her shaking in front of him and held her tighter. He propped his chin on her shoulder. "You're okay, Hermione. Close your eyes if you need to, but you're safe with me, okay?"

She nodded violently and he let out a small laugh. He was relishing the feeling of being so close to someone again. She felt so warm and solid against his chest, it was the exact sort of comfort he needed right now. He told himself it would have felt like this with any witch, that he was just missing having someone he could hold close like this. He told himself it had nothing to do with Hermione, specifically.

[He was wrong, of course, but it would take him a couple more months to figure it out.]

Hermione was too afraid to thoroughly consider how it felt being in Harry's arms. She did notice that she felt safe, even though she was doing one of the things that scared her most. But there were a lot of other things she missed.

Like how perfectly their bodies fit together. How his low voice in her ear raised the hairs on the back of her neck. How the feeling of him enveloping her simultaneously excited and calmed her. There were clear signs that there was something more than friendship here, but she was too distracted to put it all together at the time.

A/N: Thank you all for your overwhelming support of this story! Thanks also to my beta reader, Lancashire Witch. She reads these chapters within hours of me sending them to her, which just helps us get these to you all faster! My plan for now is for this story to have around 12 chapters. However, my stories always tend to stretch as I write them, so we shall see...