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Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent
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Chapter Three
The Houseguest
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The following week was uneventful. Harry and Dudley rose early each morning to go running, and Harry spent each day after that working in the garden, often wearing Sandy and talking to her. In the evenings he read his new books or did summer homework. He had taken to bringing Sandy in with him at night and even slept with her on his arm. When she wasn't on his arm it felt strangely light.
The first time he brought her to his room she was rather alarmed at the sight of Hedwig.
"Did you bring me here to kill me?" she asked.
"No, that's my pet owl, Hedwig. She delivers mail. She can find someone anywhere in the world and deliver a letter to them, even if I don't know where they are. All post owls can."
"Impressive," Sandy hissed, sounding unconvinced. "So. You already have a pet." She sounded a little hurt.
"Well, Hedwig performs a service for me, and I take care of her and feed her. So, I guess she's more of a servant than a pet." It suddenly occurred to him that it wasn't a very different arrangement than house elves, who Hermione insisted were unjustly enslaved. "I thought you didn't want to be my pet."
"That is true. Nor do I fancy being a servant. So what am I?"
Harry examined her thoughtfully. "How about my roommate?"
"What is roommate?"
"It's people who share living quarters. They're usually friends."
"What about friend?"
"What about it?"
"Why did you suggest roommate first, instead of friend?"
"I—I don't know. Are you my friend Sandy? I'd like that."
"Yes. I am your friend, Harry Potter."
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About a week-and-a-half after his birthday, Harry was preparing to go upstairs after dinner when the doorbell rang. Not thinking twice about it Harry called, "I'll get it!" and turned the knob.
It was Snape.
Harry immediately screamed and recoiled; Snape was the last person he'd expected to see on Privet Drive. He was attempting to dress in Muggle clothes, something Harry had never seen him do. But the clothes were somewhat out of place in Surrey (except for the eccentric retired colonel two streets over). He was clad as someone on safari in Africa, from his bush boots to his pith helmet with mosquito netting. He even had a machete hanging on his belt, though Harry noticed his wand in a holster on the other side. Where his knees showed between his khaki shorts and his knee socks he was deathly pale, revealing that he had never been on a safari in his life. His lank black hair was pulled back into a pony tail under the helmet. Harry stared at him in disbelief.
"Nice to see you too, Potter," he growled. Harry stepped back abruptly as Snape entered, glancing around suspiciously, as if expecting an ambush from the light fixture on the ceiling or the flower arrangement on the hall table. A large black dog followed him and Harry sighed with relief.
"Sirius! Thank goodness!" But his godfather did not transform into his human self; he also sniffed about the hall suspiciously before nodding at Snape, who went back outside and summoned some people who'd been standing just outside the circle of light spilling into the night from the hall.
It was Hermione and her parents. Harry was as shocked as he'd been when he'd seen Snape. "Hermione!" was all he could say. The entire Granger family seemed like they'd been through the ringer. They staggered under the weight of their luggage, which they'd presumably been lugging from England to the Greek Islands to Bulgaria. He thought Hermione was especially exhausted, though he couldn't see her eyes; she had on dark glasses. She wore denim shorts that were just above her knees. A large white T-shirt with a blue and white Greek flag printed on it was tucked into her shorts and she wore rugged hiking sandals. They all appeared a bit dusty, as if they had walked from Bulgaria.
Harry ushered them into the lounge. Dudley and his parents stood in the hall, staring incredulously at the odd party that had invaded their house.
"See here, now—" Harry's uncle began as he entered the lounge with Aunt Petunia and Dudley close behind. Suddenly Sirius changed from a large black dog into a human and Aunt Petunia crouched behind her husband, screaming. Sirius brushed dust from his black robes and smoothed his dark hair back.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, extending his hand to Vernon Dursley. "I am Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. We meet at last."
Vernon Dursley cowered against his wife, refusing to touch Sirius's extended hand. Suddenly, Dudley stepped up and grasped his hand, saying in an authoritative voice, "Dudley Dursley," and shaking his hand firmly. Sirius smiled at Dudley and Harry gave Dudley an appreciative nod. Then he noticed Dudley staring at Hermione.
"We are sorry to arrive unannounced like this, but this is an emergency. While the Grangers were in Bulgaria there was an attempted abduction. Dark wizards tried to kidnap Hermione." Harry goggled at Hermione, who sat stony-faced, still wearing her dark glasses. "Viktor Krum managed to thwart the abduction, but not before Hermione heard the wizards talking about receiving their instructions from someone called Lucius." He paused, to let this sink in. "I think we all know who that is."
The Dursleys shook their heads dumbly, having no idea what Sirius was going on about, just looking like they wished he and the rest of them would go away. Hermione's mother sat beside her and put her arm around her, trying to get her to put her head on her shoulder. Hermione would have none of it, sitting up again pointedly, refusing to be coddled.
"I was traveling with the Grangers from Greece to Bulgaria but I had gone to meet with Professor Snape here when the abduction occurred. We talked to the headmaster of Hogwarts, who felt that this would be the safest place for Hermione until school starts. Her parents will go into hiding for their protection; arrangements are being made." The Grangers were grim.
"We—we have a check we can give you. For Hermione's room and board for the rest of the summer," Hermione's mother told the Dursleys. Harry saw his aunt's eyes light up. Aunt Petunia rarely turned down money and the Grangers seemed rather normal, except for traveling in the company of Sirius and Snape.
"Can she stay?" Sirius asked the Dursleys. They seemed afraid to refuse him. Vernon Dursley gave a very small nod and Mr. Granger took out his checkbook and started to write a check. He extended the check to Harry's uncle, who opened his eyes wide and suddenly seemed to wake up.
"Harry!" he barked. "Take your friend's luggage up to the guest room!" He practically grabbed the check from Mr. Granger, who was taken aback. Harry picked up Hermione's bags and said, "Your room's upstairs." She nodded and followed him into the hall. Sirius changed back into a dog, prompting another scream from Aunt Petunia. Snape and the Grangers moved into the hall with the large black dog.
"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," Snape said in an oily voice, as if speaking to Muggles were extremely distasteful to him. "We will leave now."
After the front door shut Harry and Hermione went upstairs. She still held her head up stoically. Harry put down the bags to open the door before turning on the light, letting her go first. He followed her in, placing her luggage on the bed, watching her carefully. The room was very quiet.
Suddenly Hermione whispered, "Close the door."
Harry closed it, and immediately, Hermione took off her dark glasses, revealing eyes red from crying. "Oh, Harry!" She flung her arms about his waist, sobbing into his chest. Harry slowly put his arms around her, his cheek on the top of her head. It was surprising to find that he was several inches taller than her now; they used to be the same height. He smoothed her hair, surprised at the soft texture of the curls. She had last hugged him on the train platform at King's Cross at the end of June and given him a kiss on the cheek that surprised him; she had never done that before. But this wasn't like a brief goodbye hug; they had never held each other like this while she cried into his chest. They stood that way for what seemed a long time; when she had been simply sagging against his chest for a while and had stopped crying he lifted her face and kissed her gently on the forehead.
"You're tired. Get some sleep."
He went to the door and opened it. She was like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Harry."
Harry closed the door gently, finding Dudley in the hall, an unasked question on his face. Harry shook his head firmly. "She needs to rest." Dudley nodded and went to his room. Harry went into his own room and undressed for bed, but before he lay down he went to the shelf above his desk and took down the picture of Hermione on Corfu, propping it against the lamp on his bedside table. After staring at it for a long minute he took off his glasses and turned out the light.
#/#/#
Harry felt his bed bounce. Startled, he opened his eyes. The sun was up, but only just. There was a pale, grey light outdoors and a slight apricot tinge at the edges of the sky. He squinted at the foot of his bed, finding Hermione sitting there. She wore what he supposed were summer pajamas: light blue shorts and a matching button-down shirt with a pointed collar and a pocket. Her arms were around her legs, her knees pulled up to her chin as she stared into space. He rubbed his eyes and fumbled for his glasses. When he had them on he pulled himself into a sitting position, the sheet falling to his waist. She was looking at him strangely.
"Hermione?" he ventured, hoping to bring her out of her catatonia. She met his eyes now.
"You look different," she said simply.
"I've been doing manual labor all summer," he told her, holding up his hands. "My calluses have calluses." But he felt her eyes on his torso, not his hands.
"Your voice is lower, too."
"Yeah, but my singing voice hasn't improved any. Right now I'd say I'm a tenor, but I may wind up a baritone."
She didn't say anything for a few minutes. Harry wasn't used to her being so quiet; she was usually talking unless her nose was in a book. She had positively gabbled at him and Ron on their first train ride to Hogwarts. Her eyes moved around the room. He saw her take note of the photo on the bedside table and he wished now that he'd put it in a drawer. She seemed to be looking at Sandy on his arm, and the basilisk amulet that rested on his sternum.
"You haven't met Sandy," he said, to break the silence. He leaned down to speak to the snake. "Sandy? Are you awake?"
Sandy raised her head. "I am now."
Hermione's mouth hung open. "You know," she said, "I've only heard you speak Parseltongue one other time: in the Dueling Club, when you were telling the snake Malfoy had conjured to leave Justin alone and everyone thought you were egging it on."
"Until I heard Sandy talking in the garden, I forgot I could do it. She's with me a lot now. It's nice to have her to talk to."
"It is nice to talk to you, too," Sandy told him. "I have learned much about humans."
"What did she say?" Hermione wanted to know. Talking about Sandy seemed easier for her than what Harry really wanted to talk about: the attempted abduction.
He smiled. "She said that she likes talking to me, too, and she's learned a lot about humans."
For a moment, he considered telling her about snakes having the Sight. Then he remembered that he had thought about what it could do for him to have Sandy with him in school for his fifth year, especially in Divination, telling him what was going to happen in a few minutes… Hermione would probably consider this cheating, and not worthy of a prefect, or more importantly, not worthy of him, and he decided not to mention it. He still hadn't decided whether he would go through with it. It did smack of cheating, he reckoned.
"What's that?" she said after a prolonged silence, pointing to the amulet. Harry fingered it. "It's a birthday present. From Ginny."
"Ah," Hermione said, understanding the connection. Harry thought Hermione probably wouldn't have chosen to give him a basilisk amulet if she had been the one in the Chamber of Secrets, like Ginny. As it was, Hermione had worked out first that the denizen of the Chamber was a basilisk, and had looked at it using a mirror. But that didn't offer her enough protection, and she'd been petrified, sent into a near-death, open-eyed coma, broken only by a potion made from mandrake root. Hermione didn't have any romantic ideas about basilisks.
She examined him shrewdly. "Are you hiding under that sheet for some reason? Sleeping in the buff?"
Harry was shocked. "No! But—well, close. Just my underwear. Could you—excuse me while I get dressed? Dudley and I go running every morning."
She smirked. "Boxers or briefs?"
"Boxers."
"Color?"
"Black."
"How wizard-like. Come on, it sounds about the same as swimming gear."
"Hermione, please..."
"All right, all right, I'm going." She went to the door, looking pointedly again at the photo of herself on the bedside table, not saying anything. When she had gone he went to his wardrobe for running clothes; he'd been able to go shopping with the money he was making from working in the garden and for simplicity's sake he'd bought virtually all black clothes: black shorts and singlets for running, black socks and running shoes, plus black jeans, turtlenecks and button-down shirts for wearing with his school robes, plus a few black and grey jumpers and T-shirts. And, as he'd already told Hermione, black boxers.
His bedroom door opened again. It was Hermione. She stood with her hand on the knob for a moment, smiling at having caught him in just his drawers.
"Can I go running with you two? I've got some appropriate clothes. And after what happened in Bulgaria—let's just say that I'd like to be in better physical shape, for times when I can't use magic, you know?"
Harry stood his ground, refusing to hide or blush. "Meet us at the front door in five minutes." She nodded, not moving, and he felt her watching him again. Their eyes met for a long minute before she left. Harry looked at the photo on his bedside table, thinking, Oh, well. Fair's fair. I've seen her in that.
They met in the front hall, Harry in his black running clothes with Sandy around his arm (Dudley was used to it, but Harry had avoided letting his aunt and uncle see the snake), Dudley in his running clothes and Hermione in a grey running bra and very tight blue bicycle shorts. Dudley goggled but Harry tried not to; she didn't seem like she was out of shape to him, but if she wanted to come along, he was all right with that.
They drank some water and Harry led them in stretching exercises on the front lawn after he'd taken Sandy off his arm and put her under a bush to await his return. Hermione wasn't used to the warm-up routine but caught on fairly quickly. Harry tried not to look at her any more than was absolutely necessary.
Dudley was making no such effort to avert his eyes, however, and once they started running, he seemed to purposely position himself behind Hermione for the view. They went to and from the park three times and Hermione never fell back or seemed to be straining.
After breakfast Hermione came out to the garden with Harry to watch him work. She wore a simple checked sleeveless blouse, white shorts and trainers. Her brown curls were still slightly damp from her shower and her tan made the whites of her eyes appear very bright. Harry was in his usual black clothes, a sleeveless T-shirt, shorts and black work boots he'd bought because the steel toes would protect him if he dropped any stones on his feet (which he'd done several times). She sat against the wall of the house as she had that morning in his bedroom; arms around her legs, knees drawn up to her chin. It occurred to Harry that she was trying to be invulnerable to attack; she was a fortress under siege. He wondered exactly how traumatic the attempted abduction had been, and what Lucius's thugs had done to her.
She watched him all morning, silently. He'd recently been wearing his tape player to while away the time while working, or sometimes talking to Sandy, but he'd left the gift inside today. When Sandy lifted her head and spoke to him, he hissed back softly, "Sorry, Sandy. We'll talk later. This isn't a good time." The snake accepted this without comment, resting her head on her tail again and going to sleep.
They ate lunch in the garden, and as had been his wont, Harry removed his shirt afterward and lay back on the grass to get some sun. As the sun beat orangely against his eyelids, he was vaguely aware that Hermione had moved. She had reclined beside him, mere inches away, and after a few minutes, eyes still closed, he said her name. He got no response at first, so he said it again. Before he'd got out the second syllable, however, she said impatiently, "I heard you."
He was silent again for a half-minute before saying, "Sorry. I wasn't sure. I just wondered whether you felt like talking yet. About Bulgaria." He stayed on his back, eyes closed, hoping that if they didn't have to look at each other it would be easier for her to talk. She sighed, as if she were going to tell him again that it was too soon, but instead, she plunged in.
"We were in the marketplace. Viktor's mother and my mum were buying bread at the bakery, Viktor and my dad were buying chickens and I was supposed to be getting the vegetables. It seemed safe; the vegetable stall was just two away from the chicken vendor. I was just going to get some onions and peppers. But suddenly I felt all lightheaded and floaty, like I was under the Imperious Curse. I tried fighting it, but there was nothing to fight, I wasn't being told to do anything I didn't want to do. I decided that I had an incredible urge to buy vegetables, but that's what I was already there for. It was very confusing, like I was waiting for instructions, but they didn't come.
"I remember reaching for a red pepper, like I was in a trance, and I tried to ask how much it was, using a phrase Viktor's mum had taught me. But when it came out, it didn't sound like my voice. The woman running the stall said I didn't look well—she sounded very far away—and I thought, maybe I'm not under Imperious, maybe I'm just ill. I'm in a foreign country, I've been ill on unfamiliar food and water on trips before. I had some Muggle medicines in my purse that I knew I could take to feel better. She brought me round to the inside of the stall where she sat, and she was so nice, she was just patting me and talking to me in English—and now that I think about it, she shouldn't have been speaking to me in English, should she? She didn't even have a Bulgarian accent.
"Then I just—stopped. I absolutely stopped. It was like I was a light that had been switched off. I don't remember hearing an incantation or being given a potion—nothing. When I—started again, it was dark, and on either side of me were two men in grey wizards' robes with their wands pointing at me. My head felt all right again but I pretended to be kind of spacy, like I wasn't really with it, because they were talking and I wanted to hear what they were saying. The woman who'd been running the vegetable stall was gone and the marketplace was empty.
"One of them said, 'Lucius will be very pleased.' The other one said that the four others were taken care of, three other girls from Hogwarts and a Muggle boy who'd still been at his Muggle school in June when they'd done it—whatever 'it' was. They talked about me, about the way I looked, and whether they should do anything—extra—"
That's what he was afraid of. It was an effort for Harry to remain where he was with his eyes closed. After another beat, he said, "Go on."
She took a deep breath and said, "Well, as far as I know, they didn't do anything—extra. They both pointed their wands at me at the same time—I felt like I couldn't move—and they both said an incantation I can't remember. It's possible that they put a memory charm on me after that, which might be why I can't remember. You know I only need to hear an incantation once…"
"I know," Harry said softly.
"Then—I stopped again. And when I started again it was daylight. I opened my eyes and I was lying on the couch in Viktor's house. He was lifting me up and calling to my parents, telling them I was back, that it was all right..."
"But you're not convinced."
"It's not that; it's just that I don't know. I've got—all this lost time. Who knows?"
Harry reached out his hand blindly, found Hermione's and laced his fingers through hers. He felt her grasp his hand almost spasmodically and he squeezed back. They didn't talk and when the alarm on his watch went off he opened his eyes and got up to work as though nothing had happened. He let go of Hermione's hand to put on his shirt. He looked at her, still lying on her back, her eyes closed against the sun, tears running out from under her eyelids. He ached so for her; if there was one thing she needed, it was certainty.
Suddenly she sat up and shook her head impatiently. She wiped her eyes quickly, as if tears were merely an irritation. Getting to her feet, she said briskly, "No point to me just sitting about and watching you do all the work, is there? What do you want me to do?"
Harry stared. Was she going to pretend that she hadn't been discussing what happened in Bulgaria—and what could have happened that she didn't know about? Apparently she was. "Well," he hesitated, "we have to plant these rose bushes near the wall here; they're climbers, and eventually they'll cover the trellis. It's just like Herbology, but without the bubotuber pus making your hands swell up."
Hermione laughed; it was a relief to hear it. "Oh, that howler! And the other letters! All those people who believed Rita Skeeter when she said that I was toying with you and Viktor!"
Harry had to smile. "By the way," he said. "What happened to Rita Skeeter?"
Hermione seemed like she had just forgotten to tell him that she'd won the lottery. "Oh! Harry! Rita Skeeter! Wait till you hear!"
"I am waiting!" Harry replied in falsetto, imitating her. She threw a clod of dirt at him.
"Don't mock me. When we got to London, I took Rita home with me, but I didn't let her out yet. I wrote to Professor McGonagall and explained to her about Rita. Since she's a registered animagus, she doesn't hold much with those who want to skirt the law. Anyway, she talked to Dumbledore and they both Apparated to my house. Mum and Dad didn't know what to think; McGonagall pretended that that was always how they told students they were going to be prefects. Anyway, when mum and dad had left the room, I took the Unbreakable Charm off the jar Rita was in and let her out. She was reluctant to become human. I think maybe she hoped that if she stayed a beetle, McGonagall and Dumbledore would think I was daft and making it all up. Finally, they threatened to force her to reveal herself—you know, like Sirius and Lupin did to Wormtail—so she gave in, and the next thing you knew, there's Rita, sitting in our lounge. And if looks could kill…"
"You did keep her in a jar eating leaves for about two weeks."
"And she maligned my and yours and Viktor's good names, not to mention Hagrid. No more than she deserved; quite a lot less, I think."
Harry tried not to laugh; he could laugh about Rita Skeeter now. During the Triwizard Tournament he never would have believed it. "Anyway—" he prompted her.
"Anyway," Hermione continued, "McGonagall immediately started in on her about the reasons for all Animagi to be registered, but Dumbledore stopped her and said that in covert work, having an unregistered Animagus on your side could be very advantageous."
"Well, he was referring to Sirius, obviously."
"Yes. But he was also making a proposal to her He said, 'If you don't mind taking orders from an obsolete dingbat, I've got a job for you.' She didn't want to get fined or jailed for the unregistered Animagus business, so she listened to what he had to say, and—"
"And what? What's he having her do?"
Her face fell. "I don't know. He made me leave the room with McGonagall so she could keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't find a way to eavesdrop. When we went back to the lounge they were gone, and then McGonagall said congratulations on being a prefect, I'd get an official letter, and she'd see me in September."
"Then what?"
"Then nothing. She was gone. Poof."
Harry frowned. "And how does Dumbledore know that Rita Skeeter will do the right thing? That she's not an unregistered Animagus so that she can work for Voldemort?"
"I think she just did it because it makes it possible for her to get her scoops. It's a great way to be a fly on the wall—or beetle, rather. And I don't know how Dumbledore knows what her loyalties are. We keep wondering why he trusts Snape, but that hasn't blown up in his face."
"Yet."
"Harry, you have no idea. Snape was actually very—nice when he came to Bulgaria. He seemed very concerned about me. I half expected him to take points from Gryffindor for me being stupid enough to get myself kidnapped. But he wasn't horrid to me at all. He let Viktor have it for not keeping an eye on me, though…"
"And why did Sirius say Viktor thwarted the kidnapping? It sounds like you were returned. Like they kidnapped you and then changed their minds."
"Viktor said that he was in the marketplace waiting outside the vegetable stall when the two wizards aimed their wands at me. He did a very fast stunning spell on both of them, and put a full-body bind on them both and left them there. He took me back to his parents' house, but it took until morning before whatever they'd done to me wore off. When Sirius got to the vegetable stall, they were gone."
"Or at least, that's Viktor's story."
She nodded grimly. "Or at least that's his story. Don't think I haven't thought about that. I mean, I was having a good time with Viktor in Sofia, he was—" She lowered her eyes and colored, "Sort of, you know, my first boyfriend." She avoided looking at him. "But I suppose I don't—I don't really feel about him the way he feels about me. It's just a—" She turned even redder and didn't finish.
"Just a what?" Harry suddenly very much wanted to know. Hermione looked at him.
"It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I've got a real problem now."
"More of a problem than almost being abducted by dark wizards working for Lucius Malfoy?"
"It could be all the same problem. Like you said, Viktor's version of how things went—that's his story, and no one can corroborate it. Maybe they meant all along for me to be returned. Maybe even now I'm under some kind of spell and don't know it. I don't feel like I am, but you never know. The problem I'm talking about is how to get rid of Viktor."
"You want to kill Viktor?" Harry said, shocked.
She threw another clod of dirt at him. "No, you stupid—I mean, he thinks of us as girlfriend and boyfriend. He's going to come to Hogsmeade when we have weekend visits. I can't break up with him and I can't stay with him!"
"What?" Harry sputtered, confused.
"If I break up with him, he could become cross. I've seen him cross. And he was trained in the Dark Arts, don't forget. I'd hate to think what he'd do if I broke up with him and he became—agitated. But I can't just stay with him because I'm afraid of how he'll respond if I break up with him. That'd be daft. But if I broke up with him and someone like Lucius Malfoy wanted him to work for him, he might be contrary enough that he wouldn't need to be coerced. Plus, as we've already seen, he's not at all able to fight Imperious. You told me how Moody—I mean Crouch—put the Imperious Curse on him in the maze, and he turned right around and put Cruciatus on Cedric. He was very easily manipulated. And though I don't have proof, that could be what happened in Bulgaria. At least, I'd rather believe he did—something—while cursed instead of voluntarily, if he did cooperate with Lucius Malfoy's underlings. Let's just say that being with Viktor doesn't exactly make me feel safe and well-protected. Here I feel safe."
"Here?" Harry was mystified.
She peered at him, her eyes narrowed. "You don't know, do you? Ever since you were a baby, there've been charms protecting your house for several streets around. It's impossible to Apparate in and out, or even use a Portkey—Snape had one we used to come back to your village, but we had to land about a mile away. I'm not convinced the protection reaches that far, but he wanted to play it safe. That's why we were knackered when we arrived—it was late, I was hauling my trunk, and Snape wouldn't let Sirius put a spell on it to make it lighter."
Harry was puzzled. "Once, the Weasleys came by Floo Powder. They temporarily added the lounge's fireplace to the Floo Network, got special permission from the Ministry. Of course, it didn't work very well, since the fireplace is boarded up."
"But, see? They had to get special permission to do that. There are also Dark Magic detectors all over the place here. Why do you think Voldemort or his Death Eaters haven't just come to get you?"
Harry pulled a face. "I reckon I always thought they were repulsed by the prospect of meeting the Dursleys." They both laughed and decided to get back to work.
#/#/#
It was nice to have someone to work with again, after Dick, and Hermione wasn't afraid to get dirty or do heavy lifting, though he tried to spare her the worst of it. For the rest of the week, Hermione went running with them in the mornings and worked with Harry in the garden the rest of the day. After the second day, Dudley noticed Hermione on her hands and knees in the garden, and volunteered to help them. Harry understood why, but he didn't mind. He couldn't blame Dudley, really. Though it was more than a little disturbing when Hermione got rather—flirty with him. He'd never seen her do that. She'd been rather silly at times when she was around Gilderoy Lockhart, during second year, but she'd only been twelve.
With all three of them working, the garden was soon done, and Harry collected his last five pounds from his aunt. Now, after morning runs he went into the garden to do basic watering and weeding, but otherwise had the rest of the day free. He and Hermione worked on their summer homework, sitting on benches beneath the new arbor while Dudley sat nearby playing video games on a small hand-held unit. Sometimes he let Harry or Hermione use it when they were tired of working; he seemed to feel it was necessary to hang over Hermione's shoulder when it was her turn.
At the end of the third week of August Aunt Petunia was quite petulant at dinner. She started muttering under her breath about cooking for an extra person, pointedly glaring at Hermione. Reckoning that he'd made all the money he was going to from the garden (and having spent most of it) Harry felt compelled to defend her.
"She cleans her own room and does her own laundry. Plus, her parents gave you a pretty hefty check…"
Suddenly, Dudley was shouting hotly at his mother, "You leave Hermione alone! She's the most—the most—"
"Dudley!" his mother exclaimed reproachfully. His father glowered at him.
"Don't forget, boy!" he growled. "She may seem normal, but she's a—a—one of those!" his father sputtered.
"Say it, Dad! Just say it! She's a witch! A witch! Why won't you just talk about it normally? Harry's a wizard and Hermione's a witch, and they call us Muggles! They fly around on broomsticks and—and—at least she's not something beginning with a B that rhymes with witch!" he finished, glaring pointedly at his mother before storming out of the room.
"Dudley!" his parents exclaimed.
Harry and Hermione glanced furtively at each other, continuing to eat their food quietly. The silence was deafening. Harry was reminded uncomfortably of his birthday. What's got into Dudley lately? It wasn't just Hermione's arrival; this had been going on all summer. I suppose most fifteen-year-old boys rebel against their parents in some way. He tried to imagine what he would have been like if he'd been raised by his own parents, how he would relate to them now that he was in his mid-teens. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine being anything but relieved to have parents. Perhaps that was the problem; most teenagers just didn't know what it was like to not have parents at all. Though in Dudley's case, in Harry's opinion, he'd have been lucky to know what that was like. He tried to imagine the scenario that Dudley had raised before, Harry's parents living and taking in Dudley in the event that something happened to Petunia and Vernon. He couldn't imagine that any better than he could imagine rebelling against parents he'd never had a chance to know.
Perhaps because they had a guest—though his aunt was already being rude to her—Harry's aunt and uncle didn't say another word. Before they had a chance to rise from the table, however, Hermione spoke.
"Don't worry about the cleaning up, Mrs. Dursley. Harry and I will do it. And I would also like to make a special dinner on my last night here, as a thank you for letting me stay. I took a course with a brilliant chef in Athens while we were in Greece. Please say yes," she added sweetly, smiling at them placatingly. Harry's uncle squirmed uncomfortably and looked at his wife.
"All right," he said, rising from the table. Petunia Dursley followed him out of the room, still appearing rather hurt about Dudley's outburst. Harry and Hermione cleared the table and stood at the sink to wash and dry the dishes. Harry heard the television come on in the lounge.
"Cooking lessons while on holiday? Are you never not going to school?" he asked. She laughed and splashed him with some suds. He splashed her back and it threatened to become a free-for-all, but Sandy (under his shirt sleeve, where his aunt and uncle had been unaware of her) said that his aunt was coming into the room, so Harry stopped and whispered to Hermione, "Aunt Petunia's coming."
She frowned at him quizzically, turning toward the doorway. Nothing happened. "Are you sure?"
"Give it a minute," Harry whispered, wiping dishes. Hermione counted to sixty under her breath, and when she reached sixty-one, Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen. Hermione gaped at Harry again.
"How did you know—" she started to whisper, but Aunt Petunia had other ideas.
"The pair of you had better not break anything!" she exclaimed shrilly, her hands on her hips. They stared at her wide-eyed, assured her that they would be careful. She turned and left again.
Hermione eyed Harry but he avoided her gaze, wiping dishes and glasses, thinking, I've got to keep her from knowing that Sandy has the Sight. That was a little close.
The next day, after their morning run and showers, Hermione and Harry sat under the arbor in the garden while Dudley played with his portable computer game nearby. Hermione had brought her notebook from the Greek cooking school and was paging through it, searching for recipes for the meal she planned to serve before they left for the Burrow. She made notes on lined paper with a ball-point pen and it struck Harry that this was the first time he'd ever seen her not writing on parchment using a quill. Sometimes he forgot that she'd had a Muggle upbringing, like him.
When Dudley got up to go inside for a different game, Harry leaned back contentedly, considering the summer. "You know," he said, "With you here, and Dudley being friendly, it's almost like having a brother and a sister. It's nice."
He was perplexed to see an expression of appalled dismay on Hermione's face. "Sister?" she said softly. "Sister?" she repeated. Harry didn't know what to think. When Dudley reappeared Hermione closed her cooking notebook and rose, saying that she was going inside to read.
Harry watched her go, wondering what he'd said wrong.
After lunch Dudley had to go shopping for his school things with his parents. As they were leaving, Harry's uncle suddenly peered at Harry and Hermione shrewdly, suspiciously. "I don't know whether we can trust you two here alone together," he started to say. Hermione smiled at him brightly.
"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Dursley. We're both prefects. And we know how serious it would be to break the law against underage—you know—"
He examined her through narrowed eyes. "That wasn't what I was talking about," he said through his teeth. Harry noticed that Hermione was flushed under her tan before she abruptly left the room. "You!" his uncle suddenly barked. "What are you going to do?"
"Weed in the garden. Should take a while; dandelions are all over the place, trying to take over," Harry told him.
His uncle seemed unconvinced. "All right," he grumbled, and soon the Dursleys were off to buy Dudley his new Smeltings books and uniforms, the old ones being far too large after the running he'd been doing.
Harry changed into his work clothes and went to the garden shed for a trowel and kneeling pad. Hermione came to the back door. "Do you mind if I get some sun while you're working? I haven't been able to for a while, and I may not again, since the summer's almost over."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah. I don't need help with the weeding." She went back inside and Harry picked a spot to start, kneeling on the pad, pulling on gardening gloves and starting to dig out dandelion roots. (He didn't like using weed killer.) A short while later, he heard the kitchen door again and Hermione came back out. He wasn't facing the door, bent over a particularly annoying dandelion root that seemed to be the source for all of the weeds in the garden. When he looked up he goggled at her.
Hermione was wearing the bikini. She spread a towel on a patch of grass and sat on it before picking up a bottle of sunscreen to protect her skin. He tried to look away but always seemed to see her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't tell if she was looking back; she had her dark glasses on again. If he thought the picture in his room was amazing, it was nothing compared to the live show.
She reclined and closed her eyes. Her arms were by her sides and her whole body seemed to glisten in the sun. Harry felt his mouth go dry; he dragged his eyes away, staring at the dandelion root again.
It wasn't easy to concentrate on his work. Several times he pulled out small flowers instead of weeds and had to unobtrusively replace them, in case she was watching. After a while, she sat up and pushed her sunglasses up. "Harry? Could you help me put sunscreen on my back?"
Harry stared at her, terrified. "On your back?"
She nodded. "I can't reach." She rolled onto her stomach and pillowed her head on her arms. Harry took off his gardening gloves and walked over to her cautiously. He knelt by her side and picked up the sunscreen, putting some on his hand, and began to rub it into the skin of her back. He sucked in his breath as he worked, keeping his breaths even and measured, trying not to think about how her skin felt. It was an effort not to sigh with relief when he was done. He rose to go back to work, but she said, "I need help with the back of my legs, too."
Harry looked at her legs, feeling like his head was swimming. Maybe I could fake my scar hurting. That might get me out of it. But he obligingly knelt beside her again, putting sunscreen on the backs of her legs. When he touched his fingers to the back of her left knee, she flinched and sighed. Harry drew back in alarm.
"Go on," she whispered.
"Are you okay?" he ventured.
"The backs of my knees are just—sensitive."
He quickly applied sunscreen to the rest of her legs, trying to cloud his mind and ignore the sounds she made when he touched the back of her other knee, trying not to see her at all, or linger over her skin. He was glad to finally be done, and went back to his weeding, but it went slowly; the hot sun made him feel lightheaded and stupid, and so did the sight of Hermione in her small bikini. He avoided looking at her, he thought, and yet it seemed that he spent quite a lot of time looking at her.
He was finally able to put away his weeding supplies, having rid the garden of dandelions once more. "I'm going in," he said when he'd locked the shed. He opened the kitchen door, to escape into the house, but she'd already risen and wrapped the towel around her waist, carrying the sunscreen and padding after him. Her short curls had been touched by the sun too, golden highlights glistening here and there amidst the brown. In the kitchen, they both tried to get a cold drink from the refrigerator at the same time and Hermione wound up standing very close to him when they'd closed the door. Her face mere inches from his, Harry looked down before guiltily jerking his eyes back up to her face. Her eyes were very close to his, the whites so white they seemed tinged with blue at the edges.
"Still thinking of me as your sister?" she whispered. She turned to go, not seeing Harry's jaw drop as he stood frozen in place.
He sat at the kitchen table, hearing the shower upstairs, and tried not to think about that. He drank several glasses of water, to avoid dehydration, trying not to think about anything at all, and succeeding in thinking of nothing but her. When she came back down she wore jeans and a simple blue blouse, very much like school-Hermione except for the new haircut and the deep tan. Her skin glowed, her hair shone, and Harry thought, Why did I ever think Cho Chang was pretty? But he was disturbed again by something: Why had she flirted with Dudley?
She sat beside him at the table, and almost before she was settled, he found himself blurting it out: "Why have you been flirting with Dudley?"
She smiled and looked at her hands. "Only to make certain that he's another ally. When Snape told me that Dumbledore wanted us to come here, I reckoned it would be a good idea to—cultivate him."
Harry nodded but couldn't stop himself as another question came bursting forth. "You do realize that Ron is very jealous of Krum, don't you?" Not that I am, he said in his head. Not that I am, not that I am…
She smiled ruefully. "Ron is an immature git. Don't get me wrong; I love him like—" She looked pointedly at Harry. "—a brother. But if he's jealous of Viktor, well, I just cannot believe the way he acted about the Yule Ball, even now. The way he finally asked me—if that could be called asking. Hermione, you're a girl… How flattering for him to notice! At least you actually walked up to the girl you fancied and asked her, and then you managed to get Parvati to go with you and fixed up Ron with Padma. He didn't even get his own date! I don't think he's going to have a girlfriend for a long time. He's still such a big baby, and won't say how he feels…" she trailed off, as though this upset her but she was trying not to think about it. She looked at him. "Do you think you'll ever try asking Cho Chang out again?"
Harry grimaced. "Are you joking? When I've thought about her this summer, all I can see is the way she was crying during the feast at the end of term, when we were toasting Diggory. Just buckets of it, streaming down her face. And I even had a dream that I was on a date with her; and she was saying things like, 'Oh, Harry, isn't it a good thing you got Cedric killed so we can be here like this?' So, no, I don't think I'll be asking her out again until this massive wave of guilt over Diggory passes—which will probably be never."
Hermione nodded. "I wondered whether you thought you were responsible. Believe me, Harry, no one thinks you're to blame, not even his parents."
He put his hand on her arm. "Save your breath, Hermione. I'm going to feel guilty about him for the rest of my life, and that's that. End of story."
She swallowed and put her hand over his. "You're still letting that eat you up, then?" He nodded, staring at the table. "Well, we need to find a way for you to think about other things, like helping me get rid of Viktor—or at least making certain that we're not alone together. I know! You could go out with us in Hogsmeade!"
"You want me to go on your dates with Viktor?" He was appalled.
"Well, that might seem odd. Ron could come too. And Ginny. Maybe Parvati and Lavender, and George and Fred. We could make it a big group thing. He has a very difficult time saying no to me; if I tell him that's how it's going to be, that's how it's going to be."
Harry promised to come along, and she leaned over suddenly and kissed his cheek, thanking him. Their faces were very close together. Suddenly, Harry stood, nearly knocking his chair over. "I—um—need to take a shower. Gardening—sweat and grime—you know—" He practically ran from the room, while he tried to convince himself he wasn't an immature git like Ron.
As he was passing through the front hall the Dursleys returned. Harry told them he was going to shower before dinner, since the gardening was done, and Dudley said, "Does that mean Hermione's not doing anything? Hermione! Want to place Space Wars on my computer?"
Hermione came into the front hall and smiled at Dudley warmly. "I'd love to."
They three went upstairs, Dudley and Hermione into his bedroom, and Harry into the bathroom. Standing under the spray, Harry thought again of Hermione sunning herself in the bikini, touching her skin while he was putting the sunscreen on her… But he realized that even if Hermione were interested in him (and it was starting to seem that she might be), if she was already in danger merely for being his friend, how much more dangerous would it be for her to be his girlfriend? And there was Viktor Krum to consider. And there was Ron. Hermione thought he was annoying and immature, but he could turn into quite a formidable enemy if he were upset about Harry and Hermione being together—as Harry suspected he would be, if that were to happen and he found out. Harry would go from having two friends to having a girlfriend and yet another mortal enemy…
Harry left the shower with his head whirling. He dressed and went to Dudley's room, sitting on the bed and watching Hermione and Dudley at the computer, not saying anything. He felt like he was in a trance, trying to sort out his feelings and his desires, and trying to work out if any of it was worth putting her life at even greater risk. He went down to dinner when it was time and volunteered his and Hermione's services for clean-up duty again, so he could talk to her, but he couldn't seem to say anything to her that wasn't related to dishwashing and drying. She didn't talk much either, except for one time when she suddenly said, "You know, Harry, I never told you how proud I was that you stood up to Voldemort. So many adults wouldn't—or couldn't." She sounded a little like she was quoting Sirius's letter to the Dursleys—Sirius had probably said the same thing to Hermione, he reckoned. He got the impression that she, however, was speaking of Viktor as one of those who couldn't or wouldn't.
They played chess in the lounge while the rest of the family watched an American comedy on the television, the laugh track filling the empty spaces in conversations so that no one felt compelled to talk. It was strange, now, Harry thought, to be playing chess and not having the pieces moving of their own volition…
After they finished the game (Harry won; he'd played a lot of chess with Ron, so he was used to having to work hard at it, but not used to winning) they said goodnight to the others and went upstairs. In the hall between their rooms, Hermione suddenly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek again. Harry swallowed, looking at her in terror before also kissing her on the cheek. She sighed.
"I suppose that if you want to think of me as your sister…" she trailed off.
Harry grinned at her and whispered, "Too late," before forcing himself to go into his room, after seeing her smile and blush in a satisfied way, forcing himself not to step across the small hall and behave toward her in a far less brotherly fashion.
The next day would be their last before going to the Burrow. After the morning run Hermione, Harry and Dudley went to shop for the ingredients she needed to make dinner. After lunch she shut everyone out of the kitchen and started working on the meal. When it was close to time, Harry and Dudley moved the table and chairs into the garden for an al fresco meal, per her instructions. When Hermione finally called them all to dinner, they were stunned. She had made sautéed mushroom caps with roasted peppers, olive tapenade, pesto and melted Gruyere cheese; a salad of wild greens with a balsamic vinaigrette; leg of lamb with sautéed spinach and truffle risotto; and chocolate gateau with Turkish coffee for dessert, plus fruit and cheese.
It was by far the most elegant meal any of them had ever eaten. Petunia and Vernon seemed to have forgotten who had made it and went into raptures over every mouthful; Dudley was thrilled to be rid of celery and lettuce. Harry thought, She should teach the house elves at school how to make this. He tried not to laugh at the thought of the house elves allowing themselves to be taught recipes by the mad reformer, Hermione Granger, who scandalized them every time she called their situation enslavement.
After dinner, Harry and Hermione cleaned up again. It seemed that she had used every pot in the kitchen. When they were done, it was just beginning to grow dark so they sat in the garden on the bench under the arbor. It seemed natural for Harry to put his right arm along the back of the bench behind her, to bring his hand to rest lightly on her bare shoulder, stroking her soft skin lightly, moving his fingers in circles. Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder, resting her left arm on his leg, as they watched the pink glow fade from the sky and become sapphire velvet. Harry wasn't certain how long they sat like this when he looked at her and saw her looking back. He couldn't think of anything to say; he didn't want to talk, and he hoped she didn't either. He knew what he wanted to do, knew it more clearly than he'd ever known anything before. Their mouths gradually grew closer and closer; he could feel her warm breath, smelling of chocolate and coffee, and felt her lips begin to brush his.
"A large black dog is coming."
Harry started, pulling away from her. Sandy had spoken under the loose sleeve of his T-shirt. He glanced around the garden, left and right, and over his shoulder. He turned back to Hermione, who seemed more than a little annoyed.
"What is it?" she said, an edge to her voice.
"Sirius is coming," he said simply, still glancing around, trying to see his godfather, wondering whether he was already there and had seen them. He removed his arm from around her and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione crossed her own arms, frowning; he thought it was possible that she assumed he was just making excuses. But after another minute glittering eyes appeared around the corner of the shed and a large black dog padded over to them quietly. Hermione glared at Harry again, annoyed and perplexed.
"You keep doing that!"
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