I realize that it has been a really long time since I've posted a
disclaimer. Here it goes" I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own anything
to do with Harry potter except the book and the movies. Now I can't be
sued, right?
To Jamie: The Army is good. I'm in class learning Dari for about seven
hours a day, but my teaching staff is awesome. Being stationed in
Monterey, California is the best part. I live about three minutes from the
ocean and my weekends are mine to use as I see fit. I suppose I better
enjoy it. I'll be in Afghanistan before the end of next year. I just
might get this damn story finished by then.
Henry Jenkins had worked as gate guard in the Granger estate for over forty years. Ling before that prick, Peter Granger, took over. And now the prick's wife has fired him. How dare she.
Drinking on the job was the reason that dyke gave. What a pile of horse shit! Not that Henry hadn't thrown a few back on duty, over the years, but it surely wasn't a reason to be given the chop.
Henry was lonely man. His wife had left him a little over a year ago. After twenty years of marriage, that bitch had the nerve to leave him. She claimed that he hit her too much. Henry yearned for the olden days when women knew their place and didn't give the man of the house any lip.
Henry had very little to live for, now. At the age of sixty-three, he didn't believe he could get a job any place else, especially with this whole drinking incident on his resume.
That stupid bitch, Henry thought, sitting in his small room on the Granger estate. He lived in a small bedroom above the garage. It was cozy and Henry had come to love to love its walls.
And now it was going away. All because that whore, Karen Granger had the nerve to fire him.
Henry stood up and walked over to his small dresser. He opened the top drawer and reached into the very back of it. He pulled out a long box. He walked back to the bed and sat on it. He set the box down in front of him and opened it.
His breath caught as the light of the sun caught the blade of his foot long knife. It was an ancient knife, passed down through his family for fuck-all generations. Henry had always kept it in case he ever hit hard times and had to sell the bloody thing.
But, with the image of Karen Weasley in his mind, it seemed he had another reason for it. And if the knife didn't work, he always had another trick up his sleeve.
((()))
Harry and the others were all given separate rooms. These rooms were usually reserved for rich friends of the Grangers. Harry thought his room was as big as the entire dormitory where he, Ron Neville, Seamus and Dean lived in at Hogwarts. The bed was so soft that Harry doubted he could ever get comfortable in it.
Harry's baggage was already by the foot of the massive bed. It looked like the servants had brought it up. He couldn't begin to guess what the servants had thought about his broom, but they had brought it up none the less.
Harry jumped into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He laced his fingers on his chest and tried to think of the best way to make this whole situation a little better. Hermione, it turned out was far wealthier than anyone had expected. At Hogwarts, wealth meant very little. Well, in Gryffindor, wealth didn't mean much. It seemed to be a matter of a little more weight in Slytherin.
Regardless, they hadn't known how rich she was and it wouldn't have changed anything if they had known. But now Ron, widely known as one of the poorest students at Hogwarts, was going to ask one of the richest men in England for his daughter's hand in marriage. Not a pretty picture.
Hermione should have told Ron. Her wealth would never change his feeling for her, but if he had known about it, he could have better prepared for this show down. Harry knew that Ron felt slightly wounded by Hermione's discretion.
With all this tumbling through his head, Harry drifted off to sleep. The bed wasn't as uncomfortable as he first thought.
He was awakened by a soft knock on the door. He groggily pushed himself out of bed and moved to the door. He opened it and all sleep disappeared as soon as he saw what was behind it.
Ginny stood outside his door, blushing madly. She was hardly decent with only a short towel covering her body. She seemed to be making an honest attempt at not trying to cover herself more. One hand was clenched around the towel, keeping it in one place.
Harry couldn't keep himself from looking her up and down, drinking in the sight of her pale skin. It was a sight that he had barely the nerve to dream about.
Though he tried to keep his gawking to a minimum, Ginny soon noticed his hidden appraisal and began to blush even more. "The servants must have messed up when moving my luggage." She said quickly. "I took a shower without checking if I had all my luggage. The trunk with all my clothes isn't in my room. I was wondering if you had it."
Harry glanced back at the pile of luggage at the foot of his bed. Sure enough, Ginny's well-won trunk was at the bottom of the pile.
"Yeah, it's right here." Harry said in a creaking voice. He still wasn't himself. He cleared his throat forcibly.
He opened the door completely and allowed Ginny to enter. She moved across the room to her trunk and seemed about ready to grab it when she froze. Harry realized her predicament immediately and began to laugh uncontrollably. Ginny couldn't bend over to grasp the trunk's handle without exposing more than she already was.
She tried bending at the knees and that seemed to work. She got one of her hands on it and froze again. The floor was made of beautiful, stained wood. The only way for Ginny to get the trunk out one handed would be to drag it, but it would also dig into the wooden floor, leaving horrible scratches. And she surely couldn't use both hands, as her other hand was the only thing holding up the bath towel that covered her body.
She looked up helplessly at Harry, who was watching the scene with a huge smile on his face.
"Well," Harry said mischievously, "this is an interesting situation."
Ginny's eyes closed to slits. "Harry!" she said evenly. "Help me out."
Harry snorted. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking you to!" Ginny growled.
Harry sighed deeply, the smile large on his face. "It would be an insult to mankind around the world. Most guys would kill to be in a situation like this." Harry suddenly remembered a Christmas movie that he had snuck into the living room of the Dursley's to see. "I could sell tickets." Harry said, in a poor imitation of Jimmy Stewart.
"Harry!" Ginny shrieked in a tortured voice. As anxious as her voice sounded, Harry could see that she was on the verge of laughter. She wasn't really distraught; she just thought that she should be.
Harry was again reminded of how much he felt for this red-haired firebrand. He had been preoccupied lately and hadn't been showing her the amount of attention he would have liked to. He sighed heavily and walked over to the chest. He bent over and grabbed the trunk by its polar handles. With a grunt he lifted it off the ground. "Damn, Gin, what do you have in here?"
Ginny smiled beautifully. "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter?"
Harry made a show of bowing deeply at the waist. "Lead the way, m'Lady." He said in mock seriousness.
Ginny swept out of the room and Harry followed closely on her heels. She led him to a room two doors down. When they entered, Harry saw that it was much like his own, but painted with different colors.
Ginny pointed to a spot at the bottom of her bed and Harry moved there and put the trunk down on the floor. When he straightened and turned around, Ginny, moving faster than he thought she could have, threw herself at him.
At first, Harry thought she intended to hit him for teasing with her earlier, but instead of throttling him, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled his face down into a long, passionate kiss.
When it ended, Harry's knees were shaking and he was having a hard time focusing his eyes. Ginny was breathing hard with her head on Harry's chest. Harry tightened his hold on her shoulders and truly felt he could stand like that the rest of the day.
This peaceful thought was blown away when he realized that the only thing that was keeping Ginny's towel around her was the contact between the two of them. During their kiss, she had released her hold on it and hugged herself to Harry's chest. Harry knew that if he pulled away, the towel would tumble to the floor.
Ginny, still breathing hard, obviously hadn't realized this yet. Harry, with his brain, knew that he should simply grab the towel and secure it around her. Unfortunately, with the insistence of a completely different organ, he wanted to simply step back and enjoy the show.
The battle in his head raged for several moments before he gave way to chivalry. He grabbed the hem of the towel and Ginny gasped. He held it tightly and tucked one of the edges into itself, securing it to her body.
Ginny looked down at the towel and smiled. "Thanks." she said strangely.
Was that disappointment in her voice?, Harry asked himself. Harry realized that her earlier gasp had not been outraged at his boldness. Instead it had been merely surprised. And now she was disappointed that Harry had been merely making sure that the towel would stay on. This brought on interesting implications, Harry thought. But this certainly wasn't the place to be exploring them.
"I'd better get out of here." Harry whispered, his voice not under his control. "We don't want to be caught up here by Hermione's parents. Certainly not the way you're dressed."
Ginny laughed and blushed deeply as if realized how bold she had been. "Maybe we can finish this some other time?" she asked, suddenly unsure of herself.
Harry, not wanting to make her lose her nerve, said, "Of course. Maybe later tonight."
Ginny sighed in relief and smiled widely. "You're on."
Harry moved toward the door but turned back to Ginny before he reached it. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."
Ginny looked puzzled. "For what?"
Harry sighed. "I haven't been a very attentive boyfriend lately."
Ginny cut in. "No, it's OK, Harry. You've had a lot on your mind. Between Voldemort and your best friends getting married, I'm surprised that you've thought of me at all."
Harry covered the distance between the two of them in an instant. "No, Ginny. You are my top priority. You don't deserve any less. Don't ever think that you're not worth my time. I'll always make room for you."
Ginny's lip trembled slightly and Harry thought that she would begin crying in a moment. This hadn't been Harry's intent. He had meant every word he said.
Harry kissed her lightly on the cheek and slipped out of the room and into the hallway. He walked back to his room, his spirits higher than they had been in days.
Once inside his room, Harry moved to the window and looked out over the Granger's massive estate. He could see servants rushing back and forth from the servant's quarters, accomplishing the day's work. Surprisingly, the last person Harry had ever expected to be associating with the "lesser folk of the world, Draco Malfoy, was in deep conversation with a boy who looked about his own age. Draco and the boy were smiling and making wide, expansive gestures with their hands, as if discussing something exciting.
Harry watched the conversation until Draco left the boy with a hearty handshake. Harry continued to watch as Draco walked off toward the Granger's massive flower garden. The garden was a surrounded by huge shrubs that reminded Harry of the Tri-Wizard tournament and the huge maze that was created for it. Draco walked lazily towards with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He had a pleased smile on his face that was in no way malicious or condescending. Harry marveled at the changes in the boy that had been his rival for almost six years.
After Draco disappeared into the Granger's garden, Harry settled back onto his bed, thinking about a certain red-haired girl.
((()))
Draco Malfoy had had few friends in his life before this summer. Raised in a dreary home by a tyrannical man whose only love was that for Voldemort, Draco had never experienced truly happy moments in his childhood. Lucius Malfoy had always been a violent father. A fist to the face had always been Lucius' favorite method of raising his child.
The only good memories that Draco had of his father were the few moments of extreme pride his father would show when Draco did something particularly nasty. The crooked smile his father would give his son was more than enough to encourage Draco to grow into a malicious boy. And while his father never showed love for his son, Draco lived for his father's pride.
But all of that had changed a little less than two weeks ago. Draco had been in training to lead the next generation of Death Eaters to a shining era of destruction in the service of Voldemort. And every Muggle shop burned, every "Mudblood" wizard caught, and every wizard still supporting Dumbledore killed, Lucius Malfoy had become more and more proud of his son.
Finally his final test had come: a full out assault on Diagon Alley. At first, Draco had been more than happy to take part in the attack. That was, until he began to think of the numbers involved. Every previous attack had been on one single wizard or a single Muggle storefront. Never had he been a part of something as big as attacking Diagon Alley.
During the planning of the attack, huddled in the cellar of the Malfoy mansion, Draco had seen the glee on the faces of those around him at the mention of all the death they would cause. It had made Draco ill.
Draco made the decision that would change his life forever. He confronted his father, knowing that this would be their last civilized meeting. Upon hearing his son's refusal to participate in the attack, Lucius Malfoy flew into frenzy. He beat his son until Draco was forced to flee on his broomstick.
Draco had fled to the only man he knew would keep him safe. Dumbledore had decided to send Draco to the states, where Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor class was vacationing.
And now he had real friends for the first time in his life. The thought brought a small smile to the boy's face. Draco realized he smiled a lot more these days than he had ever before.
Draco looked back on his relationship with Harry Potter. While Draco had treated everyone else horribly, it had always been with the knowledge that his father knew everything that had happened in Hogwarts. But Potter had been different. Draco had truly hated Potter. Potter had always had what Draco wanted; real friends that would always be there. Draco, with all his money, didn't have anyone who cared for him.
But now he did. He knew that Potter, Weasley, Hermione and even Ginny would be there for him. And that felt really good. And Draco knew that he was finally doing the RIGHT thing. Being raised in the wizarding world, Draco had a strong belief in destiny. And he knew he was on the right side. He felt stronger when he was with his friends, almost invincible.
It was Potter's destiny to destroy Voldemort, but he couldn't get there alone. Draco wandered aimlessly through the Granger's garden. Not really seeing anything around him, Draco felt the sun hit his face and was happy; really happy.
Draco turned a corner and realized he was lost. The huge garden had been formed into a maze and the huge walls prevented any view of the outside world. Draco laughed at himself for getting lost and took a path to the left. He took another left and ran into a girl who was running from the other direction. She ran face-first into his chest and even though she was the one running, she rebounded off and almost fell to the ground.
She muttered something angrily and when she turned to berate her for his stupidity, Draco caught his first look at her face. He felt his heart seize.
The girl was of his age and very beautiful. She was deeply tanned and her brown hair fell to her shoulders. Her cheeks were red with anger and her blue eyes flashed. Her forehead was slightly wrinkled. Her mouth was pursed. Draco absorbed these features in a moment.
"Listen, jerk!" she began her large eyes tattooed to his. She seemed to want to say more, but then she must have seen his clothes and realized he wasn't another servant. "My apologies, sir." she said quietly and Draco knew she wasn't really.
The Grangers must have treated their servants a great deal better than the Malfoys. If this had happened in the Malfoy's estate, the servant would have fallen to her knees, begging for mercy. Not that Draco wanted this from the girl. For some reason, he wanted to fall to HIS knees.
Draco tried desperately to get his voice back under control. He wanted to be smooth and cool, like he always was with girls. Where were his witty remarks and crooked smile when he really needed it?
He began to speak several times and he imagined he must have looked like a fish with his mouth opening and closing. He felt blood rush to his face and tried to stay calm. It didn't work.
The girl, seeing that he wasn't going to say anything, sighed irritably and brushed past him. Draco could only watch. He had blown it. The girl was going to walk out of his life and he hadn't been able to say a word.
But just before moving around the corner and moving on, she turned back, perhaps to see if he would say something. Draco just stared at her, in agony.
The girl must have seen a little of what Draco was feeling, because she blushed suddenly. Draco's heart lifted when she smiled slightly before running around the corner.
Draco sighed at the girl's leaving and felt his whole body tingle. It felt like all the hair on his body was on end.
Draco's lips broke into a smile. "She's ruined me." He said cheerily. "And I don't even know her name."
((()))
Henry moved silently through the Granger mansion. News of his recent loss of employment hadn't become general knowledge yet, so the other servants didn't try and stop him. Hell, he had always been well liked. No one would try and stop him.
Henry felt at the length of cold steel that was concealed by his heavy leather coat. He knew he looked strange wearing it, but no one even gave him a second glass. To the others, he had always been a little weird. This was fine with Henry. It only made his job easier.
Henry moved swiftly up the marble stairs. The muscles and tendons in his legs screamed from misuse, but he forced himself to the top of the stairs. Panting, he moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom. On his way, He passed the room that that little bitch Hermione lived in whenever she was at home. Henry knew it was Hermione who had told her mother that Henry had been drinking on the job. Hell, when he was done dealing with Karen Granger, he could always come back for her daughter.
Before long, the Grangers would respect him again. If he had to spill a little blood to get this respect, so be it.
Henry opened the door of the master bedroom slightly and peeked in. There was no one in there. No one in there, yet. In the hours to come, Karen would come into the room and he would be there.
He looked around for a good hiding spot. Perhaps the closet, he thought to himself.
He didn't have time to think about it, as he soon heard voices coming from down the hallway. He searched around desperately for a hiding place and settled on the
open bathroom. He flung himself into the bathroom and pressed his
back to the wall next to the door.
He reached into his jacket and felt his foot long knife. That was what he'd do the woman with. She deserved the pain it would give her. But then again, he thought reaching back into his jacket. He felt the weight of the pistol he had there. He had brought it along for contingency. He was old and knew that he couldn't wield the knife reliably. But he could always pull a trigger.
The voices entered the room. Henry couldn't believe his ears. It was the dyke, Karen Granger and her bitch daughter. A small smile broke out on his face. Two birds with one stone.
((()))
Afternoon found the group scattered over the Granger estate. Ron made a weak attempt to find his friends, but was actually happy when he found himself wandering by himself. He knew where Hermione was, of course. Their bond had grown so acute, that he could have pointed in the exact direction she was. He had wanted to spend the afternoon with her, but she had told him to go off by himself. She would try and prepare her parents to hear of their marriage.
So Ron, uncomfortable with expensive, museum-like quality of the Granger household, soon ventured out into the land surrounding the house. It wasn't long before he found several of the house's younger male servants participating in a pick-up game of basketball. Ron looked at their care- free expressions with envy as they ran up and down the make-shift court. It had seemed like such a long time since he could do something so free, so fun.
All the servants playing looked to be about Ron's age. One of the teams wore white undershirts. The other team had stripped off their shirts and were obviously the 'skins' team.
Several of the younger, female staff members had turned out to watch the game. The game was obviously a pretty regular thing for all the girls to know about it beforehand. Ron could imagine little entertainment for the servants. This basketball game was probably a good chance for the younger generation of servants to 'hook up' with each other.
One of the servants noticed him staring at the game and paused mid-dribble. He rested the ball on his hip and called out. "Anything I can help you with sir?"
It took Ron a moment to realize he was talking to him. He had rarely ever been referred to as 'sir' in his life. "No, mate." he called back. "Just watching."
"Do you wanna play?" the boy called back. "Skins need another player."
Ron had never played the Muggle game before. He didn't even know the rules. But he wouldn't let that stop him. He needed to blow off some steam. "Sure." he said.
Ron stripped off the collared shirt which left him only wearing an old pair of khaki shorts. He threw his shirt to the side of the court and turned back to the others. They were staring at him in surprise. Ron looked down. He was almost as surprised as they were. It was easy to forget how his body had changed while he was captured by the Sentinels. He had lost weight, which only made his new-found muscles stand out even more. Ron realized he looked like the anatomy chart in the med-wing of Hogwarts, with all of the muscles clearly sectioned off.
Ron heard a few whistles from the bolder girls sitting on the side of the court and blushed brightly.
The boy holding the ball on his hip smiled slightly. "OK, pretty boy. Your ball." He flipped the ball and it bounced toward Ron. Ron stuck out a hand and caught it. It felt strange in his hands, but it wasn't all that different than a Quaffle. He had always been a pretty good chaser.
Ron had only watched the game for a few minutes, so he still had a pretty fuzzy idea of how the game worked. He dropped the ball and let it bounce on the ground. It bounced back up and he pushed it back toward the ground. Unfortunately, using his Sentinel strength, the ball rebounded and bounced well over his head.
The boy who had invited him to the game looked puzzled. "Quit messing around, pretty boy! Let's play."
Ron knew he would have to hold back the majority of his powers just to keep from popping the ball. He tried to dribble again and the ball bounced a satisfactory height. He continued to do this as he got more and more comfortable with it.
The boy obviously didn't want to wait that long. With a grunt he shot out a hand at the ball, intent on stealing it. To Ron, it looked like slow motion. He easily bounced the ball to his other hand and began dribbling it. It seemed that even if he held a tight reign on his powers his body could adapt quickly. Within seconds, he was already a better dribbler than any of the other boys. "What's your name, son?" Ron asked cockily of the boy. He began dribbling the ball in between his legs lazily.
The boy smiled at the jab. "Martin. What's yours?"
"Ron." Ron jumped into the air; a good three feet off the ground, and at the height of the jump, shot the ball toward the hoop. It was so easy. The ball soared through the air and went soundlessly through the hoop. Ron landed and smiled at the shocked looks of those around him. "Let's play."
Martin smiled and rallied his team. "All right boys, looks like we've got a show off. I'll cover Pretty Boy."
The game progressed and Ron soon had the feel of the rules and regulations. He soon began to feel guilty using his new strengths against these unknowing youngsters and soon began shooting less and passing more.
(Don't stop.) Hermione's voice rang out inside of his head. (Use it all.)
(Why?) Ron shot back. (It's not fair. These kids don't know what I am.)
(I'm in my parent's bedroom. We're all watching you play. Impress them.)
Ron glanced over his shoulder and saw Hermione in the window of a second floor bedroom. (Why would your parents care if I'm good at sports?) Ron sent.
(My mother wouldn't care, but my father certainly won't give his daughter to a man who he thinks is weak. It won't hurt to let them know what you can do.)
Ron sighed and looked around at the unfortunate youngsters that would have to endure his show. "You're all in big trouble." He said quietly.
((()))
Karen Granger stared at her only child and knew that something was different. She didn't look any different. She was still the fifteen year old girl that had left for America two weeks ago. But something was most certainly different. Maybe it was in the way she carried herself, now.
All of her life, Hermione had been a shockingly intelligent klutz. Karen loved her daughter with all of her heart, but it had been clear very early in Hermione's life that she was no athlete. Hermione had never excelled in gym class, bringing home her only less than exceptional grade in school.
But now Karen could see Hermione move with a confidence that had always eluded her. For the first time in her life, Hermione seemed completely aware of all her limbs. Yes, something certainly had changed in her daughter.
"So, Hermione, how was Florida?" Karen asked her daughter, set on getting to the bottom of the problem.
Hermione had thrown herself into a heavily padded chair that sat in the corner of the master bedroom. At the mention of America, Hermione's mouth came up in a small smile. "Florida was.different." She said wistfully.
Oh Christ, Karen thought. My daughter had fallen in love. Some damn Yankee has stolen her heart. She forced her face to remain calm. "What did you do, there?"
Hermione sat forward in her chair. She rested her elbows on her knees and sighed heavily. "More than you could ever imagine."
"I'm sure I could imagine plenty, Hermione." Karen said quietly. "Tell me about it."
Hermione seemed to want to say something extremely important but surprised Karen by saying, "Have you ever heard of the Wizard Bureau of Investigation."
When Karen merely stared blankly at her, Hermione continued. "It's the American equivalent of the Ministry of Magic. But since they haven't been established as long as the Ministry, they are really paranoid of strange and abnormal magic. Americans are a level-headed type of people. They are driven and dedicated, but they lack the imagination to accept magic in any form. The WBI keeps close tabs so that magic isn't exposed to the general public."
Karen sighed irritably. Hermione was obviously taking the long path to whatever she was trying to say. "What does this WBI have to do with you?"
Hermione took a breath. "They came to visit Ron and I."
A cold wave crashed over Karen's body. "You're not in any trouble, are you?"
Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "No, mum. You see, over the break Ron did something that the WBI had to investigate. He released an almost unheard of magic. The WBI found out about it and came to investigate."
"What did he do?" Karen asked.
"He protected me." Hermione said slowly. "And by protecting me, he released this magic."
Karen shook her head. A small coughing noise came from the bathroom, and she looked in the direction of the bathroom. She listened for a moment but no sounds came. Probably nothing, she thought. "Hermione, would you just speak clearly, please. Tell me what happened."
Hermione pushed herself out of the chair and went over to the window that looked out over the driveway. "Ron and I have.a bond."
Oh, here it comes, Karen thought. It wasn't an American after all. It was the Weasley boy. "Tell me about it."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when the door opened and Peter Granger walked in. His face was tired but satisfied. "I did it!" he proclaimed loudly. "I turned those law-suits on their asses."
Karen smiled at her husband's enthusiasm about dentistry.
Peter moved over to his daughter, standing by the window. He put an arm around her shoulder and looked out the window with her. "Look. The boys are playing basketball again. Hey isn't that your friend Ron?"
Hermione nodded and her face went calm for a moment. She stared, unseeingly out the window. Seconds later, her face became focused again. "Yeah, that's Ron."
Peter snorted. "Seems like Florida had a good effect on him. I don't remember him being so solid before."
Hermione chuckled. "Dad, you have no idea."
Karen moved to the window and saw Ron playing basketball with the younger servants. He moved bare-chested among the other boys. He looked like a man among children. Which didn't make much sense considering most of the boys he was playing with were older than he was? Still, he seemed more mature, more real.
As if he could feel their eyes on him, he turned to look up at them. He stared up at them, but Karen knew that he was looking only at Hermione. His face suddenly lost all expression; much like Hermione's had moments before. He nodded slightly up at them and turned back to the game.
Moments later, moving faster than Karen thought possible; Ron intercepted the ball in mid flight. He began dribbling between his legs, the ball a blur. Karen couldn't hold back a gasp at the speed at which he moved.
Peter's eyes widened at the display and he asked, "How long has he been playing? I didn't think that they played basketball in the wizarding world."
Hermione looked wistfully at Ron and sighed. "Wizards don't play basketball. This is his first time."
Peter snorted. "Come on, Hermione. He's amazing. This can't be his first time."
Hermione merely shrugged. "There's a lot you don't know about Ron. There's a lot you don't know about me."
Karen, who knew Hermione had been on the edge of saying something important before Peter had walked in, said, "Tell us, then."
Hermione's shoulders sagged. "I can't. Not here. Not like this."
Peter shrugged and moved over to his desk. He pulled two glasses out of one of the drawers. He grabbed the glass whiskey container that sat on the desk and filled the two glasses. He turned and offered one of the glasses to Karen.
Karen reached out and took it. Peter and she rarely drank, but he obviously wanted to celebrate the day's victories, so she raised her glass to him. But on its way to her mouth, the glass slipped out of her fingers and fell to the floor.
"Oh, damn!" she muttered, looking down at her shirt. While the glass had fallen, whiskey had shot out onto her blouse leaving an ugly brown stain.
Peter bent over and picked up the glass. "Had a few too many, already?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh, shut up." Karen muttered but couldn't help but smile at her clumsiness.
Peter motioned to her blouse. "You better wash that out before it stains."
Karen nodded and walked to the bathroom.
((()))
Out in the driveway, Ron was still tearing into the others on the basketball court. They had practically stopped playing and spent most of their time just watching Ron. They clapped madly when he launched himself and dunked from the free-throw line.
(All right,) Hermione sent. (You can stop showing off now? My parents aren't watching anymore.)
(Were they impressed?) Ron sent back.
(My dad was.)
(Did you tell them about us?)
Ron could feel Hermione sigh mentally. (I couldn't. I-) Hermione cut off suddenly and Ron could feel a surge of pure terror come from her through the bond.
(Hermione!)
(RON GET UP HERE, NOW!) ((()))
Hermione expected Ron to take the long way, around the house and up the stairs, so she was almost as surprised as Henry was when he burst through the window. He had leapt from the ground and into the second floor window. The glass shards scattered everywhere. Ron landed lightly on his feet. Hermione could see pieces of glass jutting out of his skin. Blood ran freely down his stomach and soaked the waistband of his shorts.
Hermione could dully feel every piece of glass as it they had stabbed into her own body. But she knew that Ron barely felt them. The Sentinel rage flowed through his body. He emanated an aura of power. His chest heaved up and down as he quickly surveyed the situation.
Henry Jenkins stood in the entrance of the bathroom, a sobbing Karen Granger in his arms. Henry had a knife to Karen's throat and he pointed a heavy pistol at Peter Granger, keeping him at a distance. Peter had thrust Hermione behind him, putting his body between Henry and his daughter.
Henry's eyes had widened in shock as Ron had burst through the window, but now he seemed to be getting his thoughts back. He moved the barrel of the gun from Peter Granger to Ronald Weasley.
Ron stared fearlessly at the dark barrel of the gun. Hermione felt him come to a decision, but didn't know what it was.
Ron began walking toward Henry and his gun. Hermione felt a jab of fear in her heart. Ron was walking to his death.
Henry began backing away from the look on Ron's face. The boy was a being of controlled rage and it scared Henry more than anything. He retreated until his back hit the wall behind him. He wanted to run, beg and cry; anything to keep this young man away from him.
Left with few choices, Henry chose one that made the most sense. He pulled the trigger.
Hermione screamed.
Ron moved as soon as the bullet left the gun. He could have dodged it, he realized, but that would leave Henry with enough time to kill Hermione's mother. He propelled his body at the old man. The bullet hit him squarely in the chest. He paid it no mind. He barely felt it.
Behind him, Hermione's hand shot up to her own chest, feeling the pain that Ron didn't.
Ron landed in front of the old man. Henry had begun the cut that would kill Karen Granger. He won't finish it, Ron thought. He reached out and grabbed the wrist holding the knife. With barely a squeeze, Ron broke every bone in the old man's wrist. The knife fell to the floor.
Ron grabbed the old man's shirt and lifted him off of the ground. He slammed him into the wall hard enough to make the dry wall crack. He was reminded dully of his encounter with Kyle, back in America. Both Kyle and this old man had been sick. Ron brought the man back into the ground, hard enough to shatter the old man's legs.
Satisfied that the old man was no longer a threat, Ron turned back to Hermione and her parents. Karen had run into the arms of her husband, crying. A thin trickle of blood ran down her neck where Henry had begun to cut her. Other than that, she seemed fine.
Peter Granger was staring in horror at Ron's chest. Ron looked down and was shocked by what he saw. The bullet's ruptured a damn artery, Ron thought dully. With each beat of his heart a thin stream of blood shot out of his chest and fell to the floor in front of him.
Ron felt the strength leaving his body. Soon, the strength was replaced by pain. The Sentinel magic no longer flowing through him, Ron could feel his skin sizzle where the bullet had entered. He felt so cold.
(RON!) Hermione's voice rang out inside of his head.
Ron wanted to answer her. He wanted it more than anything. But the darkness was persistent. He couldn't even feel the floor as he hit it.
It was supposed to be longer, but I know it's been too long since I updated. So.you get half the chapter I wanted to post. I promise they'll bring up the marriage to Hermione's pare
Henry Jenkins had worked as gate guard in the Granger estate for over forty years. Ling before that prick, Peter Granger, took over. And now the prick's wife has fired him. How dare she.
Drinking on the job was the reason that dyke gave. What a pile of horse shit! Not that Henry hadn't thrown a few back on duty, over the years, but it surely wasn't a reason to be given the chop.
Henry was lonely man. His wife had left him a little over a year ago. After twenty years of marriage, that bitch had the nerve to leave him. She claimed that he hit her too much. Henry yearned for the olden days when women knew their place and didn't give the man of the house any lip.
Henry had very little to live for, now. At the age of sixty-three, he didn't believe he could get a job any place else, especially with this whole drinking incident on his resume.
That stupid bitch, Henry thought, sitting in his small room on the Granger estate. He lived in a small bedroom above the garage. It was cozy and Henry had come to love to love its walls.
And now it was going away. All because that whore, Karen Granger had the nerve to fire him.
Henry stood up and walked over to his small dresser. He opened the top drawer and reached into the very back of it. He pulled out a long box. He walked back to the bed and sat on it. He set the box down in front of him and opened it.
His breath caught as the light of the sun caught the blade of his foot long knife. It was an ancient knife, passed down through his family for fuck-all generations. Henry had always kept it in case he ever hit hard times and had to sell the bloody thing.
But, with the image of Karen Weasley in his mind, it seemed he had another reason for it. And if the knife didn't work, he always had another trick up his sleeve.
((()))
Harry and the others were all given separate rooms. These rooms were usually reserved for rich friends of the Grangers. Harry thought his room was as big as the entire dormitory where he, Ron Neville, Seamus and Dean lived in at Hogwarts. The bed was so soft that Harry doubted he could ever get comfortable in it.
Harry's baggage was already by the foot of the massive bed. It looked like the servants had brought it up. He couldn't begin to guess what the servants had thought about his broom, but they had brought it up none the less.
Harry jumped into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He laced his fingers on his chest and tried to think of the best way to make this whole situation a little better. Hermione, it turned out was far wealthier than anyone had expected. At Hogwarts, wealth meant very little. Well, in Gryffindor, wealth didn't mean much. It seemed to be a matter of a little more weight in Slytherin.
Regardless, they hadn't known how rich she was and it wouldn't have changed anything if they had known. But now Ron, widely known as one of the poorest students at Hogwarts, was going to ask one of the richest men in England for his daughter's hand in marriage. Not a pretty picture.
Hermione should have told Ron. Her wealth would never change his feeling for her, but if he had known about it, he could have better prepared for this show down. Harry knew that Ron felt slightly wounded by Hermione's discretion.
With all this tumbling through his head, Harry drifted off to sleep. The bed wasn't as uncomfortable as he first thought.
He was awakened by a soft knock on the door. He groggily pushed himself out of bed and moved to the door. He opened it and all sleep disappeared as soon as he saw what was behind it.
Ginny stood outside his door, blushing madly. She was hardly decent with only a short towel covering her body. She seemed to be making an honest attempt at not trying to cover herself more. One hand was clenched around the towel, keeping it in one place.
Harry couldn't keep himself from looking her up and down, drinking in the sight of her pale skin. It was a sight that he had barely the nerve to dream about.
Though he tried to keep his gawking to a minimum, Ginny soon noticed his hidden appraisal and began to blush even more. "The servants must have messed up when moving my luggage." She said quickly. "I took a shower without checking if I had all my luggage. The trunk with all my clothes isn't in my room. I was wondering if you had it."
Harry glanced back at the pile of luggage at the foot of his bed. Sure enough, Ginny's well-won trunk was at the bottom of the pile.
"Yeah, it's right here." Harry said in a creaking voice. He still wasn't himself. He cleared his throat forcibly.
He opened the door completely and allowed Ginny to enter. She moved across the room to her trunk and seemed about ready to grab it when she froze. Harry realized her predicament immediately and began to laugh uncontrollably. Ginny couldn't bend over to grasp the trunk's handle without exposing more than she already was.
She tried bending at the knees and that seemed to work. She got one of her hands on it and froze again. The floor was made of beautiful, stained wood. The only way for Ginny to get the trunk out one handed would be to drag it, but it would also dig into the wooden floor, leaving horrible scratches. And she surely couldn't use both hands, as her other hand was the only thing holding up the bath towel that covered her body.
She looked up helplessly at Harry, who was watching the scene with a huge smile on his face.
"Well," Harry said mischievously, "this is an interesting situation."
Ginny's eyes closed to slits. "Harry!" she said evenly. "Help me out."
Harry snorted. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking you to!" Ginny growled.
Harry sighed deeply, the smile large on his face. "It would be an insult to mankind around the world. Most guys would kill to be in a situation like this." Harry suddenly remembered a Christmas movie that he had snuck into the living room of the Dursley's to see. "I could sell tickets." Harry said, in a poor imitation of Jimmy Stewart.
"Harry!" Ginny shrieked in a tortured voice. As anxious as her voice sounded, Harry could see that she was on the verge of laughter. She wasn't really distraught; she just thought that she should be.
Harry was again reminded of how much he felt for this red-haired firebrand. He had been preoccupied lately and hadn't been showing her the amount of attention he would have liked to. He sighed heavily and walked over to the chest. He bent over and grabbed the trunk by its polar handles. With a grunt he lifted it off the ground. "Damn, Gin, what do you have in here?"
Ginny smiled beautifully. "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter?"
Harry made a show of bowing deeply at the waist. "Lead the way, m'Lady." He said in mock seriousness.
Ginny swept out of the room and Harry followed closely on her heels. She led him to a room two doors down. When they entered, Harry saw that it was much like his own, but painted with different colors.
Ginny pointed to a spot at the bottom of her bed and Harry moved there and put the trunk down on the floor. When he straightened and turned around, Ginny, moving faster than he thought she could have, threw herself at him.
At first, Harry thought she intended to hit him for teasing with her earlier, but instead of throttling him, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled his face down into a long, passionate kiss.
When it ended, Harry's knees were shaking and he was having a hard time focusing his eyes. Ginny was breathing hard with her head on Harry's chest. Harry tightened his hold on her shoulders and truly felt he could stand like that the rest of the day.
This peaceful thought was blown away when he realized that the only thing that was keeping Ginny's towel around her was the contact between the two of them. During their kiss, she had released her hold on it and hugged herself to Harry's chest. Harry knew that if he pulled away, the towel would tumble to the floor.
Ginny, still breathing hard, obviously hadn't realized this yet. Harry, with his brain, knew that he should simply grab the towel and secure it around her. Unfortunately, with the insistence of a completely different organ, he wanted to simply step back and enjoy the show.
The battle in his head raged for several moments before he gave way to chivalry. He grabbed the hem of the towel and Ginny gasped. He held it tightly and tucked one of the edges into itself, securing it to her body.
Ginny looked down at the towel and smiled. "Thanks." she said strangely.
Was that disappointment in her voice?, Harry asked himself. Harry realized that her earlier gasp had not been outraged at his boldness. Instead it had been merely surprised. And now she was disappointed that Harry had been merely making sure that the towel would stay on. This brought on interesting implications, Harry thought. But this certainly wasn't the place to be exploring them.
"I'd better get out of here." Harry whispered, his voice not under his control. "We don't want to be caught up here by Hermione's parents. Certainly not the way you're dressed."
Ginny laughed and blushed deeply as if realized how bold she had been. "Maybe we can finish this some other time?" she asked, suddenly unsure of herself.
Harry, not wanting to make her lose her nerve, said, "Of course. Maybe later tonight."
Ginny sighed in relief and smiled widely. "You're on."
Harry moved toward the door but turned back to Ginny before he reached it. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."
Ginny looked puzzled. "For what?"
Harry sighed. "I haven't been a very attentive boyfriend lately."
Ginny cut in. "No, it's OK, Harry. You've had a lot on your mind. Between Voldemort and your best friends getting married, I'm surprised that you've thought of me at all."
Harry covered the distance between the two of them in an instant. "No, Ginny. You are my top priority. You don't deserve any less. Don't ever think that you're not worth my time. I'll always make room for you."
Ginny's lip trembled slightly and Harry thought that she would begin crying in a moment. This hadn't been Harry's intent. He had meant every word he said.
Harry kissed her lightly on the cheek and slipped out of the room and into the hallway. He walked back to his room, his spirits higher than they had been in days.
Once inside his room, Harry moved to the window and looked out over the Granger's massive estate. He could see servants rushing back and forth from the servant's quarters, accomplishing the day's work. Surprisingly, the last person Harry had ever expected to be associating with the "lesser folk of the world, Draco Malfoy, was in deep conversation with a boy who looked about his own age. Draco and the boy were smiling and making wide, expansive gestures with their hands, as if discussing something exciting.
Harry watched the conversation until Draco left the boy with a hearty handshake. Harry continued to watch as Draco walked off toward the Granger's massive flower garden. The garden was a surrounded by huge shrubs that reminded Harry of the Tri-Wizard tournament and the huge maze that was created for it. Draco walked lazily towards with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He had a pleased smile on his face that was in no way malicious or condescending. Harry marveled at the changes in the boy that had been his rival for almost six years.
After Draco disappeared into the Granger's garden, Harry settled back onto his bed, thinking about a certain red-haired girl.
((()))
Draco Malfoy had had few friends in his life before this summer. Raised in a dreary home by a tyrannical man whose only love was that for Voldemort, Draco had never experienced truly happy moments in his childhood. Lucius Malfoy had always been a violent father. A fist to the face had always been Lucius' favorite method of raising his child.
The only good memories that Draco had of his father were the few moments of extreme pride his father would show when Draco did something particularly nasty. The crooked smile his father would give his son was more than enough to encourage Draco to grow into a malicious boy. And while his father never showed love for his son, Draco lived for his father's pride.
But all of that had changed a little less than two weeks ago. Draco had been in training to lead the next generation of Death Eaters to a shining era of destruction in the service of Voldemort. And every Muggle shop burned, every "Mudblood" wizard caught, and every wizard still supporting Dumbledore killed, Lucius Malfoy had become more and more proud of his son.
Finally his final test had come: a full out assault on Diagon Alley. At first, Draco had been more than happy to take part in the attack. That was, until he began to think of the numbers involved. Every previous attack had been on one single wizard or a single Muggle storefront. Never had he been a part of something as big as attacking Diagon Alley.
During the planning of the attack, huddled in the cellar of the Malfoy mansion, Draco had seen the glee on the faces of those around him at the mention of all the death they would cause. It had made Draco ill.
Draco made the decision that would change his life forever. He confronted his father, knowing that this would be their last civilized meeting. Upon hearing his son's refusal to participate in the attack, Lucius Malfoy flew into frenzy. He beat his son until Draco was forced to flee on his broomstick.
Draco had fled to the only man he knew would keep him safe. Dumbledore had decided to send Draco to the states, where Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor class was vacationing.
And now he had real friends for the first time in his life. The thought brought a small smile to the boy's face. Draco realized he smiled a lot more these days than he had ever before.
Draco looked back on his relationship with Harry Potter. While Draco had treated everyone else horribly, it had always been with the knowledge that his father knew everything that had happened in Hogwarts. But Potter had been different. Draco had truly hated Potter. Potter had always had what Draco wanted; real friends that would always be there. Draco, with all his money, didn't have anyone who cared for him.
But now he did. He knew that Potter, Weasley, Hermione and even Ginny would be there for him. And that felt really good. And Draco knew that he was finally doing the RIGHT thing. Being raised in the wizarding world, Draco had a strong belief in destiny. And he knew he was on the right side. He felt stronger when he was with his friends, almost invincible.
It was Potter's destiny to destroy Voldemort, but he couldn't get there alone. Draco wandered aimlessly through the Granger's garden. Not really seeing anything around him, Draco felt the sun hit his face and was happy; really happy.
Draco turned a corner and realized he was lost. The huge garden had been formed into a maze and the huge walls prevented any view of the outside world. Draco laughed at himself for getting lost and took a path to the left. He took another left and ran into a girl who was running from the other direction. She ran face-first into his chest and even though she was the one running, she rebounded off and almost fell to the ground.
She muttered something angrily and when she turned to berate her for his stupidity, Draco caught his first look at her face. He felt his heart seize.
The girl was of his age and very beautiful. She was deeply tanned and her brown hair fell to her shoulders. Her cheeks were red with anger and her blue eyes flashed. Her forehead was slightly wrinkled. Her mouth was pursed. Draco absorbed these features in a moment.
"Listen, jerk!" she began her large eyes tattooed to his. She seemed to want to say more, but then she must have seen his clothes and realized he wasn't another servant. "My apologies, sir." she said quietly and Draco knew she wasn't really.
The Grangers must have treated their servants a great deal better than the Malfoys. If this had happened in the Malfoy's estate, the servant would have fallen to her knees, begging for mercy. Not that Draco wanted this from the girl. For some reason, he wanted to fall to HIS knees.
Draco tried desperately to get his voice back under control. He wanted to be smooth and cool, like he always was with girls. Where were his witty remarks and crooked smile when he really needed it?
He began to speak several times and he imagined he must have looked like a fish with his mouth opening and closing. He felt blood rush to his face and tried to stay calm. It didn't work.
The girl, seeing that he wasn't going to say anything, sighed irritably and brushed past him. Draco could only watch. He had blown it. The girl was going to walk out of his life and he hadn't been able to say a word.
But just before moving around the corner and moving on, she turned back, perhaps to see if he would say something. Draco just stared at her, in agony.
The girl must have seen a little of what Draco was feeling, because she blushed suddenly. Draco's heart lifted when she smiled slightly before running around the corner.
Draco sighed at the girl's leaving and felt his whole body tingle. It felt like all the hair on his body was on end.
Draco's lips broke into a smile. "She's ruined me." He said cheerily. "And I don't even know her name."
((()))
Henry moved silently through the Granger mansion. News of his recent loss of employment hadn't become general knowledge yet, so the other servants didn't try and stop him. Hell, he had always been well liked. No one would try and stop him.
Henry felt at the length of cold steel that was concealed by his heavy leather coat. He knew he looked strange wearing it, but no one even gave him a second glass. To the others, he had always been a little weird. This was fine with Henry. It only made his job easier.
Henry moved swiftly up the marble stairs. The muscles and tendons in his legs screamed from misuse, but he forced himself to the top of the stairs. Panting, he moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom. On his way, He passed the room that that little bitch Hermione lived in whenever she was at home. Henry knew it was Hermione who had told her mother that Henry had been drinking on the job. Hell, when he was done dealing with Karen Granger, he could always come back for her daughter.
Before long, the Grangers would respect him again. If he had to spill a little blood to get this respect, so be it.
Henry opened the door of the master bedroom slightly and peeked in. There was no one in there. No one in there, yet. In the hours to come, Karen would come into the room and he would be there.
He looked around for a good hiding spot. Perhaps the closet, he thought to himself.
He didn't have time to think about it, as he soon heard voices coming from down the hallway. He searched around desperately for a hiding place and settled on the
open bathroom. He flung himself into the bathroom and pressed his
back to the wall next to the door.
He reached into his jacket and felt his foot long knife. That was what he'd do the woman with. She deserved the pain it would give her. But then again, he thought reaching back into his jacket. He felt the weight of the pistol he had there. He had brought it along for contingency. He was old and knew that he couldn't wield the knife reliably. But he could always pull a trigger.
The voices entered the room. Henry couldn't believe his ears. It was the dyke, Karen Granger and her bitch daughter. A small smile broke out on his face. Two birds with one stone.
((()))
Afternoon found the group scattered over the Granger estate. Ron made a weak attempt to find his friends, but was actually happy when he found himself wandering by himself. He knew where Hermione was, of course. Their bond had grown so acute, that he could have pointed in the exact direction she was. He had wanted to spend the afternoon with her, but she had told him to go off by himself. She would try and prepare her parents to hear of their marriage.
So Ron, uncomfortable with expensive, museum-like quality of the Granger household, soon ventured out into the land surrounding the house. It wasn't long before he found several of the house's younger male servants participating in a pick-up game of basketball. Ron looked at their care- free expressions with envy as they ran up and down the make-shift court. It had seemed like such a long time since he could do something so free, so fun.
All the servants playing looked to be about Ron's age. One of the teams wore white undershirts. The other team had stripped off their shirts and were obviously the 'skins' team.
Several of the younger, female staff members had turned out to watch the game. The game was obviously a pretty regular thing for all the girls to know about it beforehand. Ron could imagine little entertainment for the servants. This basketball game was probably a good chance for the younger generation of servants to 'hook up' with each other.
One of the servants noticed him staring at the game and paused mid-dribble. He rested the ball on his hip and called out. "Anything I can help you with sir?"
It took Ron a moment to realize he was talking to him. He had rarely ever been referred to as 'sir' in his life. "No, mate." he called back. "Just watching."
"Do you wanna play?" the boy called back. "Skins need another player."
Ron had never played the Muggle game before. He didn't even know the rules. But he wouldn't let that stop him. He needed to blow off some steam. "Sure." he said.
Ron stripped off the collared shirt which left him only wearing an old pair of khaki shorts. He threw his shirt to the side of the court and turned back to the others. They were staring at him in surprise. Ron looked down. He was almost as surprised as they were. It was easy to forget how his body had changed while he was captured by the Sentinels. He had lost weight, which only made his new-found muscles stand out even more. Ron realized he looked like the anatomy chart in the med-wing of Hogwarts, with all of the muscles clearly sectioned off.
Ron heard a few whistles from the bolder girls sitting on the side of the court and blushed brightly.
The boy holding the ball on his hip smiled slightly. "OK, pretty boy. Your ball." He flipped the ball and it bounced toward Ron. Ron stuck out a hand and caught it. It felt strange in his hands, but it wasn't all that different than a Quaffle. He had always been a pretty good chaser.
Ron had only watched the game for a few minutes, so he still had a pretty fuzzy idea of how the game worked. He dropped the ball and let it bounce on the ground. It bounced back up and he pushed it back toward the ground. Unfortunately, using his Sentinel strength, the ball rebounded and bounced well over his head.
The boy who had invited him to the game looked puzzled. "Quit messing around, pretty boy! Let's play."
Ron knew he would have to hold back the majority of his powers just to keep from popping the ball. He tried to dribble again and the ball bounced a satisfactory height. He continued to do this as he got more and more comfortable with it.
The boy obviously didn't want to wait that long. With a grunt he shot out a hand at the ball, intent on stealing it. To Ron, it looked like slow motion. He easily bounced the ball to his other hand and began dribbling it. It seemed that even if he held a tight reign on his powers his body could adapt quickly. Within seconds, he was already a better dribbler than any of the other boys. "What's your name, son?" Ron asked cockily of the boy. He began dribbling the ball in between his legs lazily.
The boy smiled at the jab. "Martin. What's yours?"
"Ron." Ron jumped into the air; a good three feet off the ground, and at the height of the jump, shot the ball toward the hoop. It was so easy. The ball soared through the air and went soundlessly through the hoop. Ron landed and smiled at the shocked looks of those around him. "Let's play."
Martin smiled and rallied his team. "All right boys, looks like we've got a show off. I'll cover Pretty Boy."
The game progressed and Ron soon had the feel of the rules and regulations. He soon began to feel guilty using his new strengths against these unknowing youngsters and soon began shooting less and passing more.
(Don't stop.) Hermione's voice rang out inside of his head. (Use it all.)
(Why?) Ron shot back. (It's not fair. These kids don't know what I am.)
(I'm in my parent's bedroom. We're all watching you play. Impress them.)
Ron glanced over his shoulder and saw Hermione in the window of a second floor bedroom. (Why would your parents care if I'm good at sports?) Ron sent.
(My mother wouldn't care, but my father certainly won't give his daughter to a man who he thinks is weak. It won't hurt to let them know what you can do.)
Ron sighed and looked around at the unfortunate youngsters that would have to endure his show. "You're all in big trouble." He said quietly.
((()))
Karen Granger stared at her only child and knew that something was different. She didn't look any different. She was still the fifteen year old girl that had left for America two weeks ago. But something was most certainly different. Maybe it was in the way she carried herself, now.
All of her life, Hermione had been a shockingly intelligent klutz. Karen loved her daughter with all of her heart, but it had been clear very early in Hermione's life that she was no athlete. Hermione had never excelled in gym class, bringing home her only less than exceptional grade in school.
But now Karen could see Hermione move with a confidence that had always eluded her. For the first time in her life, Hermione seemed completely aware of all her limbs. Yes, something certainly had changed in her daughter.
"So, Hermione, how was Florida?" Karen asked her daughter, set on getting to the bottom of the problem.
Hermione had thrown herself into a heavily padded chair that sat in the corner of the master bedroom. At the mention of America, Hermione's mouth came up in a small smile. "Florida was.different." She said wistfully.
Oh Christ, Karen thought. My daughter had fallen in love. Some damn Yankee has stolen her heart. She forced her face to remain calm. "What did you do, there?"
Hermione sat forward in her chair. She rested her elbows on her knees and sighed heavily. "More than you could ever imagine."
"I'm sure I could imagine plenty, Hermione." Karen said quietly. "Tell me about it."
Hermione seemed to want to say something extremely important but surprised Karen by saying, "Have you ever heard of the Wizard Bureau of Investigation."
When Karen merely stared blankly at her, Hermione continued. "It's the American equivalent of the Ministry of Magic. But since they haven't been established as long as the Ministry, they are really paranoid of strange and abnormal magic. Americans are a level-headed type of people. They are driven and dedicated, but they lack the imagination to accept magic in any form. The WBI keeps close tabs so that magic isn't exposed to the general public."
Karen sighed irritably. Hermione was obviously taking the long path to whatever she was trying to say. "What does this WBI have to do with you?"
Hermione took a breath. "They came to visit Ron and I."
A cold wave crashed over Karen's body. "You're not in any trouble, are you?"
Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "No, mum. You see, over the break Ron did something that the WBI had to investigate. He released an almost unheard of magic. The WBI found out about it and came to investigate."
"What did he do?" Karen asked.
"He protected me." Hermione said slowly. "And by protecting me, he released this magic."
Karen shook her head. A small coughing noise came from the bathroom, and she looked in the direction of the bathroom. She listened for a moment but no sounds came. Probably nothing, she thought. "Hermione, would you just speak clearly, please. Tell me what happened."
Hermione pushed herself out of the chair and went over to the window that looked out over the driveway. "Ron and I have.a bond."
Oh, here it comes, Karen thought. It wasn't an American after all. It was the Weasley boy. "Tell me about it."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when the door opened and Peter Granger walked in. His face was tired but satisfied. "I did it!" he proclaimed loudly. "I turned those law-suits on their asses."
Karen smiled at her husband's enthusiasm about dentistry.
Peter moved over to his daughter, standing by the window. He put an arm around her shoulder and looked out the window with her. "Look. The boys are playing basketball again. Hey isn't that your friend Ron?"
Hermione nodded and her face went calm for a moment. She stared, unseeingly out the window. Seconds later, her face became focused again. "Yeah, that's Ron."
Peter snorted. "Seems like Florida had a good effect on him. I don't remember him being so solid before."
Hermione chuckled. "Dad, you have no idea."
Karen moved to the window and saw Ron playing basketball with the younger servants. He moved bare-chested among the other boys. He looked like a man among children. Which didn't make much sense considering most of the boys he was playing with were older than he was? Still, he seemed more mature, more real.
As if he could feel their eyes on him, he turned to look up at them. He stared up at them, but Karen knew that he was looking only at Hermione. His face suddenly lost all expression; much like Hermione's had moments before. He nodded slightly up at them and turned back to the game.
Moments later, moving faster than Karen thought possible; Ron intercepted the ball in mid flight. He began dribbling between his legs, the ball a blur. Karen couldn't hold back a gasp at the speed at which he moved.
Peter's eyes widened at the display and he asked, "How long has he been playing? I didn't think that they played basketball in the wizarding world."
Hermione looked wistfully at Ron and sighed. "Wizards don't play basketball. This is his first time."
Peter snorted. "Come on, Hermione. He's amazing. This can't be his first time."
Hermione merely shrugged. "There's a lot you don't know about Ron. There's a lot you don't know about me."
Karen, who knew Hermione had been on the edge of saying something important before Peter had walked in, said, "Tell us, then."
Hermione's shoulders sagged. "I can't. Not here. Not like this."
Peter shrugged and moved over to his desk. He pulled two glasses out of one of the drawers. He grabbed the glass whiskey container that sat on the desk and filled the two glasses. He turned and offered one of the glasses to Karen.
Karen reached out and took it. Peter and she rarely drank, but he obviously wanted to celebrate the day's victories, so she raised her glass to him. But on its way to her mouth, the glass slipped out of her fingers and fell to the floor.
"Oh, damn!" she muttered, looking down at her shirt. While the glass had fallen, whiskey had shot out onto her blouse leaving an ugly brown stain.
Peter bent over and picked up the glass. "Had a few too many, already?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh, shut up." Karen muttered but couldn't help but smile at her clumsiness.
Peter motioned to her blouse. "You better wash that out before it stains."
Karen nodded and walked to the bathroom.
((()))
Out in the driveway, Ron was still tearing into the others on the basketball court. They had practically stopped playing and spent most of their time just watching Ron. They clapped madly when he launched himself and dunked from the free-throw line.
(All right,) Hermione sent. (You can stop showing off now? My parents aren't watching anymore.)
(Were they impressed?) Ron sent back.
(My dad was.)
(Did you tell them about us?)
Ron could feel Hermione sigh mentally. (I couldn't. I-) Hermione cut off suddenly and Ron could feel a surge of pure terror come from her through the bond.
(Hermione!)
(RON GET UP HERE, NOW!) ((()))
Hermione expected Ron to take the long way, around the house and up the stairs, so she was almost as surprised as Henry was when he burst through the window. He had leapt from the ground and into the second floor window. The glass shards scattered everywhere. Ron landed lightly on his feet. Hermione could see pieces of glass jutting out of his skin. Blood ran freely down his stomach and soaked the waistband of his shorts.
Hermione could dully feel every piece of glass as it they had stabbed into her own body. But she knew that Ron barely felt them. The Sentinel rage flowed through his body. He emanated an aura of power. His chest heaved up and down as he quickly surveyed the situation.
Henry Jenkins stood in the entrance of the bathroom, a sobbing Karen Granger in his arms. Henry had a knife to Karen's throat and he pointed a heavy pistol at Peter Granger, keeping him at a distance. Peter had thrust Hermione behind him, putting his body between Henry and his daughter.
Henry's eyes had widened in shock as Ron had burst through the window, but now he seemed to be getting his thoughts back. He moved the barrel of the gun from Peter Granger to Ronald Weasley.
Ron stared fearlessly at the dark barrel of the gun. Hermione felt him come to a decision, but didn't know what it was.
Ron began walking toward Henry and his gun. Hermione felt a jab of fear in her heart. Ron was walking to his death.
Henry began backing away from the look on Ron's face. The boy was a being of controlled rage and it scared Henry more than anything. He retreated until his back hit the wall behind him. He wanted to run, beg and cry; anything to keep this young man away from him.
Left with few choices, Henry chose one that made the most sense. He pulled the trigger.
Hermione screamed.
Ron moved as soon as the bullet left the gun. He could have dodged it, he realized, but that would leave Henry with enough time to kill Hermione's mother. He propelled his body at the old man. The bullet hit him squarely in the chest. He paid it no mind. He barely felt it.
Behind him, Hermione's hand shot up to her own chest, feeling the pain that Ron didn't.
Ron landed in front of the old man. Henry had begun the cut that would kill Karen Granger. He won't finish it, Ron thought. He reached out and grabbed the wrist holding the knife. With barely a squeeze, Ron broke every bone in the old man's wrist. The knife fell to the floor.
Ron grabbed the old man's shirt and lifted him off of the ground. He slammed him into the wall hard enough to make the dry wall crack. He was reminded dully of his encounter with Kyle, back in America. Both Kyle and this old man had been sick. Ron brought the man back into the ground, hard enough to shatter the old man's legs.
Satisfied that the old man was no longer a threat, Ron turned back to Hermione and her parents. Karen had run into the arms of her husband, crying. A thin trickle of blood ran down her neck where Henry had begun to cut her. Other than that, she seemed fine.
Peter Granger was staring in horror at Ron's chest. Ron looked down and was shocked by what he saw. The bullet's ruptured a damn artery, Ron thought dully. With each beat of his heart a thin stream of blood shot out of his chest and fell to the floor in front of him.
Ron felt the strength leaving his body. Soon, the strength was replaced by pain. The Sentinel magic no longer flowing through him, Ron could feel his skin sizzle where the bullet had entered. He felt so cold.
(RON!) Hermione's voice rang out inside of his head.
Ron wanted to answer her. He wanted it more than anything. But the darkness was persistent. He couldn't even feel the floor as he hit it.
It was supposed to be longer, but I know it's been too long since I updated. So.you get half the chapter I wanted to post. I promise they'll bring up the marriage to Hermione's pare