Summmer in London - by Maru-chan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Disclaimer - roses are red, violets are blue; i no own, so you no sue ^.^
Introduction - Set in the summer after GoF, this (hopefully) short fic records Harry's vacation in London . . . with Sirius. Just some humerous stuff: crash courses in parenthood, hiding from the Ministry, erratic new magical abilities, ect. Oh, and not to mention a nice fluffy dose of bonding, reminicing, and site seeing.
This isn't going to be a slash fic - okay, maybe a few implications, but the PG-13 will be for swearing and abusive behavior on the Dursley's part only - no sensuality at all. How ever, if even minor, miniscule implications are enough to upset your homophobic sensabilities, please exit now and don't flame.
For everyone who is still reading, thank you for being open minded, and enjoy the show. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
_No. 4, Privet Drive_
Vernon Dursley wasn't having a good morning. "Mrs. Figg is ill. Something about pneumonia . . . bunch of rot, if you ask me." He sat down heavily onto his new recliner.
Petunia Dursley, busy peering out the front windows, was immediately suspicious. "Are you sure, Vernon? Maybe it's only a flu." She gave her husband a piercing, hopeful glance.
Vernon snorted, then continued indignantly. "No, her bloody doctor gave me an earfull about 'delicate condition' and 'fragile state'." He snatched up the morning paper, opened it at random, and used the pretext of reading it to avoid his wife's irrate stare.
"Vernon, there is no way we can take that - that - that brat with us to London. These could be the most important weeks of our lives. Vernon -"
"I know, I know Petunia, but what can I bloody do!? There's no one to take him, and God knows what state the house'd be in if we left him!"
Simultaniously, thier eyes shot up towards the cieling, above which was the cause of thier suffering: Harry Potter.
But Harry Potter was having problems of his own, namely the fact that Voldemort was alive again, and he would have to do without the scant protection the Dursleys proffered for two weeks. When the most reviled Dark wizard is after you, what ever protection you had was better than none.
The Boy Who Lived sighed, laying back on his old creaky bed. He'd just gottten a letter from Ron, and it wasn't good news.
Dear Harry, I asked Mum and Dad about your coming to stay, but they said they'd already written Dumbledore, and he won't allow it. Harry, I might not get your next owl. Mum's really worried about You-Know- Who, and since only me and Ginny are home, she's thinking about sending us to the States, to stay with our aunts. Don't worry if I don't write, we'll have to see each other in Diagon Alley before school. Have you written to Snuffles? Maybe he can think of something. - Ron
Harry had written to his godfather, and to Lupin, even to Dumbledore himself. He'd gotten no reply from the first two, and Dumbledore had sent only a scant message saying it was safer for him to stay with family.
Suddenly the door to Harry's room flew open. He sat bolt upright, and stared at his red faced uncle.
Vernon Dursley look like he was having some sort of internal struggle. "Pack your ruddy trunk - you're coming to London." He choked out the words, then fled, slamming the door behind him.
Harry sat utterly still, proccessing his uncle's words. Then he sagged back onto the bed, a new problem rearing it's ugly head. Two weeks in London with the Dursleys might be worse than two weeks hiding from Voldemort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Next chapter: Will Harry survive the Dursley's? Will Voldemort find him? Will Snuffles come to the rescue? Find out next time on SUMMMER IN LONDON.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Disclaimer - roses are red, violets are blue; i no own, so you no sue ^.^
Introduction - Set in the summer after GoF, this (hopefully) short fic records Harry's vacation in London . . . with Sirius. Just some humerous stuff: crash courses in parenthood, hiding from the Ministry, erratic new magical abilities, ect. Oh, and not to mention a nice fluffy dose of bonding, reminicing, and site seeing.
This isn't going to be a slash fic - okay, maybe a few implications, but the PG-13 will be for swearing and abusive behavior on the Dursley's part only - no sensuality at all. How ever, if even minor, miniscule implications are enough to upset your homophobic sensabilities, please exit now and don't flame.
For everyone who is still reading, thank you for being open minded, and enjoy the show. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
_No. 4, Privet Drive_
Vernon Dursley wasn't having a good morning. "Mrs. Figg is ill. Something about pneumonia . . . bunch of rot, if you ask me." He sat down heavily onto his new recliner.
Petunia Dursley, busy peering out the front windows, was immediately suspicious. "Are you sure, Vernon? Maybe it's only a flu." She gave her husband a piercing, hopeful glance.
Vernon snorted, then continued indignantly. "No, her bloody doctor gave me an earfull about 'delicate condition' and 'fragile state'." He snatched up the morning paper, opened it at random, and used the pretext of reading it to avoid his wife's irrate stare.
"Vernon, there is no way we can take that - that - that brat with us to London. These could be the most important weeks of our lives. Vernon -"
"I know, I know Petunia, but what can I bloody do!? There's no one to take him, and God knows what state the house'd be in if we left him!"
Simultaniously, thier eyes shot up towards the cieling, above which was the cause of thier suffering: Harry Potter.
But Harry Potter was having problems of his own, namely the fact that Voldemort was alive again, and he would have to do without the scant protection the Dursleys proffered for two weeks. When the most reviled Dark wizard is after you, what ever protection you had was better than none.
The Boy Who Lived sighed, laying back on his old creaky bed. He'd just gottten a letter from Ron, and it wasn't good news.
Dear Harry, I asked Mum and Dad about your coming to stay, but they said they'd already written Dumbledore, and he won't allow it. Harry, I might not get your next owl. Mum's really worried about You-Know- Who, and since only me and Ginny are home, she's thinking about sending us to the States, to stay with our aunts. Don't worry if I don't write, we'll have to see each other in Diagon Alley before school. Have you written to Snuffles? Maybe he can think of something. - Ron
Harry had written to his godfather, and to Lupin, even to Dumbledore himself. He'd gotten no reply from the first two, and Dumbledore had sent only a scant message saying it was safer for him to stay with family.
Suddenly the door to Harry's room flew open. He sat bolt upright, and stared at his red faced uncle.
Vernon Dursley look like he was having some sort of internal struggle. "Pack your ruddy trunk - you're coming to London." He choked out the words, then fled, slamming the door behind him.
Harry sat utterly still, proccessing his uncle's words. Then he sagged back onto the bed, a new problem rearing it's ugly head. Two weeks in London with the Dursleys might be worse than two weeks hiding from Voldemort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Next chapter: Will Harry survive the Dursley's? Will Voldemort find him? Will Snuffles come to the rescue? Find out next time on SUMMMER IN LONDON.
