Author's Note: Hello my doves. Lololol you all hate me. I know I've been MIA for several months now. Lots of things have happened. I finished my most academically brutal school year ever, lost 30 pounds, and prepared to move from the house I grew up in. I'm also working on writing a novel of my own, which consumes much of my time. Amongst all of these things, I ended up pushing writing fan fiction off to the side. I really am sorry. I know that there are several people (or maybe none at this point because I suck) who genuinely like my stories, and I've done a crappy job of thanking you by not putting anything up for months. I do have some extra time this summer (other than my job) so I will work on writing more for you guys. I'm turning 17 next Thursday and I began writing fan fiction after I turned 13. Can you believe it? Time flies.

Important Info: This is set post-OotP. Not AU, everything's totally canon up to this point. It's a "summer at the Grangers" fic, but before you crucify me, I'm actually making it a little more interesting. See, Hermione's parents hate Harry. They're not the perfect, cookie cutter people that I read about in a LOT of HHr fics. In fact, I have not read one HHr story where Hermione's parents totally despised Harry. So bitch I'm breaking this cliché and doing my own thing.

Btw: I'm working on closing up "The Librarian". Do not fret: it WILL be finished. That's actually the only story of mine that I can read over without puking and thinking, 'why the hell would anyone read this?' I would like to get back in the groove first before I do that, though.

Btw part II: Is anyone else seeing the midnight premiere of Deathly Hallows? Giiiiiirl I'm gonna cry so much :'(

A Dangerous Boy

Chapter One: Welcome to Our Dinner Party

Harry was done.

He ducked beneath Uncle Vernon's fist again and bounded up the staircase, his uncle's wrath not too far behind him. He rushed into his room and locked the door behind him. He leaned against the door and caught his breath. Uncle Vernon's meaty fists slammed against the other side of the door, and he was screaming so many expletives that Harry learned a few new curse words.

He was done dealing with this, he was done with having to live under this roof any longer.

He ran over to his school trunk and threw everything into it, not caring if anything was going to break. He could hear Uncle Vernon yelling at him as he tried to squeeze his life into that one trunk. Hedwig was hooting madly. He couldn't risk her flying on her own, so he locked up the cage and told her that everything was going to be okay, even if that was a total lie. She must've known that he was lying, because she kept hooting amongst all of the commotion.

Harry could hear Aunt Petunia telling Uncle Vernon that the neighbors would overhear them. Dudley wasn't speaking.

"You bloody brat! You think that you can just do whatever you want, and we've done everything for you! We put a roof over your head, boy!" Uncle Vernon was shouting.

Harry tucked away his school robes and put his wand in his bleeding hand.

Blood was dripping all over the carpet. Not like he cared about the damn carpets. But if he didn't get medical attention soon, the cuts from the shards of glass all over his torso were going to become a big problem. The pain hadn't set in yet — maybe he was just in shock — but he knew that it would set in soon. And that was going to hurt like hell. He wasn't even sure how he would get all of the glass shards out before they began an infection.

He wished he had Hermione here, by his side. She'd know what to do.

He stashed his Invisibility Cloak into his pocket and nervously grabbed the handle of the trunk. He took one sweeping look of the room to make sure he didn't leave anything behind, because he sure as well was not coming back.

With an anxious breath, he unlocked the door and twisted the knob. Uncle Vernon came tumbling through, accidentally giving Harry enough room to sneak past him and dash down the staircase.

"So, you're leaving, are you?" Uncle Vernon shouted.

Harry leapt down the stairs, anxious to leave as quickly as he could. Aunt Petunia was standing in front of the front door.

"What are you doing?" he demanded of her. Hedwig was hooting even more loudly.

"You can't leave," she said hastily.

Harry referred to his bloodied t-shirt and crimson-stained hands.

"You let him do this," he said. "I need to leave."

He shoved her aside and whipped open the front door. He could hear Aunt Petunia screaming back for him to return, and Uncle Vernon was cursing after him. But he was outside, and they weren't dare to do anything where they neighbors could see… as though everyone else hadn't already heard the commotion going on from within the house.

Harry put his Invisibility Cloak on and went to the sidewalk. He lifted his wand hand, not certain if this was safe or not, but he had no other choice.

The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt right in front of him.

His escape.

"You look beautiful."

Hermione let out a gasp of pain when Anne, the Grangers' maid, pulled on the ribbon that tied around her waist.

"Better?" Anne asked when she loosened her grip and tied the ribbon.

"Er, I guess."

Hermione didn't like the idea of having Anne help her with getting ready, but even one glance at the dress before she'd put it on made her realize that this was going to be an interesting obstacle to tackle. Hermione didn't like Anne helping her with anything… it bothered her that her parents hired a maid, especially because of her position in S.P.E.W., but the Grangers gave her a nice pay and she only came in three times a week. She wondered what Harry and Ron would say if they knew that her family hired a maid. Ron would never let her live it down. She could imagine him laughing about it and constantly ridiculing her for it, and calling her a hypocrite. But Harry… Harry wouldn't judge her. He, of all people, knew that families did things you weren't too happy about.

Oh, Harry.

Just thinking about him made that worrying headache come back….

"Hermione, are you alright? You're getting that look on your face again," Anne said in a concerned voice. She began arranging Hermione's hair — which had been attacked with a curling iron moments before — into a loose bun on the back of her head. Putting millions of pins in her hair, she added, "You're not getting another headache, are you? Should I get some more medication for you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine," she lied.

Every time that she thought about Harry, she'd get that look on her face, and Anne's solution was to give her pills to make it feel all better again. Hermione couldn't tell her what was really going on, of course: Anne didn't know that Hermione was a witch, and Carl and Jane Granger wanted to keep it that way. They already had their hangups on her situation in the wizarding world, and to inform their maid of just what sort of "boarding school" she went to was completely out of the question.

"Are you sure?" Anne asked, pinning back a few flyaway hairs and keeping two curls framing her face. "I could let your mother know that you're not feeling well, and maybe she'll let you sit this one out —"

"No," she protested. "You've heard her go on about this particular dinner party for ages. If I don't show up, she doesn't have a trophy to show off to her potential clients."

Hermione remembered what her mother had told her at lunch time: "Business hasn't been what it used to be, sweetie, and it would really be great if we could introduce you to these people… and wait until they see that smile of yours! They might want their root canals done right on the spot!"

Anne was silent, continuing to try to tame Hermione's hair. Hermione wondered why her parents, who were just dentists, made a big deal out of this dinner party, as though it were some sort of campaign fundraiser.

"Perfect!" Anne said, putting one more curl into place. She grabbed Hermione's arm. "Now, are you sure that you're okay?"

Hermione nodded. She looked at her reflection and wondered who that girl was, looking back at her. She looked so un-Hermione-like that she could barely recognize herself. But her summers, ever since she turned eleven, were always filled with her pretending to be someone that she was not.

"Let's go, then." Anne grasped her arm and ushered her towards the corridor.

"One second. I'll be right out, I promise," Hermione said.

Anne reluctantly left and shut the door softly behind her.

Quickly, Hermione grabbed her wand from the top drawer of her nightstand. She tucked it into her small clutch that matched her dress, because really, you never knew what was going to happen. Being friends with Harry Potter taught her a few things about always being prepared for the worst.

With one last look at the clutch in her hand, Hermione tried to compose herself as best as she could, and walked out into the corridor.

An obnoxious song was playing and Hermione could hear shrieks of laughter about things that probably weren't funny at all. There was a strong smell of cigar smoke lingering in the air, no doubt coming from the crowds of men that Carl chatted to.

Hermione descended down the staircase, gripping the railing as though it were her lifeline in order to avoid falling flat on her face. She would never understand the logic of wearing high heels. It didn't make any sense. She was already extremely uncomfortable, and she was almost certain that at any moment, she was going to fall over and embarrass herself in front of people she didn't even know.

"Hermione!" Jane shrieked when Hermione reached the bottom step and let out a breath of relief. There was a sea of people and Hermione had trouble pointing out where her mother was. "Come here, sweetheart, I want to introduce you to a few people!"

She didn't feel like Hermione, nor did she look like her, but she obeyed her mother anyway. She put on a fake smile and approached Jane, who was surrounded by a circle of people, all dressed their best. Hermione felt awkward as she tried to break through the circle to reach her mother.

Jane was wearing a black dress and a huge necklace that looked like it was surely weighing down the top half of her body. Her hair had too much volume and her perfume was overwhelming.

"Hermione, dear, this is Mr. Clause," Jane said sweetly, gesturing to a tall man with graying hair.

"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand.

"Oh! And here's Mrs. Nebbeker, she's such a doll…."

Hermione introduced herself to everyone in the circle, and she was already exhausted.

Jane leaned in an whispered, "Is that what I think it is hiding in that clutch?"

Hermione nodded, knowing that Jane was referring to her wand. "You never know."

"Oh please, Hermione, nothing's going to happen. You're being too paranoid. That dangerous boy's made you unable to even go to a dinner party without being scared -"

"Can we please not talk about this now?" Hermione whispered back.

Jane just squeezed her daughter's wrist, which really meant: We'll talk about this later, then.

And so it went on for what must have been hours. Hermione plastered a smile onto her face and told everyone about how great she was, and how the weather was wonderful, and yes, school was great, and yes, she gets good grades, and yes, she's attending it again for another year, and no, no boyfriend yet, but studies are more important, right?

As she was pulled towards her father's group of friends, she wondered about Harry. She hoped he was alright. Maybe he was already sleeping, but the nightmares he'd been having probably kept him awake. It seemed silly for her to be squeezed into some tight-fitting dress and uncomfortable heels while Harry was grieving over the loss of his godfather without any loved ones to comfort him.

What the hell was she playing at? She wanted to stop these games for her parents. They were proud of her on an academic level, but when it came to the "ridiculous adventures" with that "dangerous boy", they weren't too happy. She'd endured numerous long talks with her parents which, most recently, consisted of her being ridiculed for running off to the Department of Mysteries and riding creepy invisible horses in order to save a man convicted of mass-murder, all while she was missing lessons.

"Are you alright?" Carl asked Hermione in a whisper when his other friends were busy talking about cars, the Grangers' primped and prepared daughter becoming old news.

Hermione nodded. She couldn't tell her parents that the reason she looked so anxious all the time was because she was worried about Harry. In their opinion, he was "trying to kill you with all of the adventures he's taking you on", and "if he cared about your safety, he wouldn't have bothered to be friends with you". If they knew that she was getting worrying headaches because of him, that would just be the last straw. As far as they were concerned, he was the root of all evil.

"Boys, boys… did I ever tell you that my Hermione has begun to read the books needed for her curriculum for school next year? If that's not commitment, then I don't know what is!" Carl announced, swirling his cigar in his hands and smiling.

Hermione was forced to endure the many questions about her curriculum, thinking on the spot of fake topics that she would learn in her fancy, girls only boarding school.

"Excuse me," she said when she'd had enough. "I need to use the ladies' room."

She squeezed through the smoke-filled room and dashed off into the kitchen, which was located towards the back of the house, away from all of the obnoxious laughter and small talk of the weather going on. She couldn't stand it anymore. She just wanted to be Hermione again... was that such a big deal? She wanted to wipe off all of this ridiculous makeup and put on regular clothing and wear her hair the way it normally was.

Anne was there, in the kitchen, preparing dessert for the guests. She had a stained apron on, and her hair was falling out of her ponytail. She was in her twenties, but the tired look on her face made her look decades older.

"I wondered when you would escape," Anne said nonchalantly. She put a tray into the oven and wiped her forehead. She turned to Hermione and put a hand on her hip, reminding her so much of Hermione herself.

"Oh, it's horrible," Hermione said. She tried to breathe through the fabric of her dress. Perhaps her mother had bought the wrong size, for no girl in the right mind would wear something so skin-tight. "Do you need any help?"

Anne shook her head. "If that dress gets ruined, I'll be murdered."

Hermione sat down at the island in the center of the kitchen. She looked out the windows and saw the last few rays of the sun peaking out from the horizon. They illuminated the Grangers' backyard, which consisted of a wooden patio and a pool. Carl and Jane always wanted Hermione to make friends with a few of the kids her age in the neighborhood and have them come by and hang out by the pool, but the only friends she wanted to spend time with were miles away.

Besides, she was considered as a freak to the kids her age. Before she even knew she was a witch, she was obsessed with books and knowledge, and she was made fun of for it on a daily basis.

"You should get back out there soon, before your mother starts looking for you," Anne said, like she was speaking the part of some sort of script.

"I know," Hermione said. She wanted to take off her shoes because her toes were ready to fall off. "I'm just going to take a walk outside. If my mum asks, tell her I'm in the bathroom."

Anne shrugged her shoulders, her loyalty conflicted. "I advise against it."

"I know." Hermione stood up and walked over to the patio door.

"Be quick."

Smiling, Hermione opened the door and stepped outside. It was beautiful. The weather was perfect. She headed over to the pool and sat down beside it. She would be forced to go back inside eventually, because the sun was escaping too quickly.

Hermione wanted to dive into the pool and stay there forever, remaining away from dinner parties, away from her worries, away from her parents' ridicules. She was too young to handle everything that was going on in her life. She wanted school to start already… and then she could see Harry, and she could see how he was doing. She couldn't stand one more day of enduring this summer.

Right as she was about to take her heels off and dip her feet into the pool, she heard a sound as loud as a gunshot. It rang throughout the neighborhood, and beyond the white fence that surrounded the property, she saw the top of a purple bus. But within a few seconds, it was gone.

Hermione dashed to the side of her house. A quick glance into the family room showed her that nobody at the dinner party appeared to have heard the noise.

That could only mean one thing: someone, or something, from the wizarding world was visiting her house.

Hermione reached into her clutch and grabbed her wand. She held it up with a shaking hand. Someone was approaching her, she could almost feel it, but she couldn't see anyone.

Were Death Eaters taking the Knight Bus now? But no — that wouldn't make any sense. Death Eaters liked to make an entrance. Riding on a sketchy bus wouldn't have the proper effect for them.

Was it someone from the Order? But they would have told her first, no? Or would a letter be too dangerous?

"W-Who's there?" Hermione called out. She thought of the giant list of spells in her head, wondering which one she should use first. Maybe she would Stun first, and then take away their wand.

"It's me," a familiar voice replied from a few feet in front of her.

Hermione's eyes widened. The mysterious visitor took off his Invisibility Cloak and revealed himself.

Hermione nearly dropped her wand.

"Harry?"

Author's Note: I'm still in the process of writing this story. If you have any suggestions, please let me know, I love to hear feedback from you guys. Sometimes you point out things and suggest stuff that I would have never even thought of in a million years. Even though I bet nobody's sticking around because I've been MIA, please know that I'm back on track. I love writing HHr stories, I seriously don't know what I would do without it. If any of you stuck with me, please let me know, it would be really nice to know that I haven't lost everyone :)