Chapter Three

Lupin and Harry sat down on the sidewalk with their backs against the fence surrounding Number Four, Privet Drive. Obviously sensing Harry's reluctance to discuss his "girlfriend," Lupin asked, "Where'd you get the fat lip?"

Cringing – he somehow knew his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wouldn't approve of using fists to confront a Muggle enemy – Harry briefly relayed the story of his fight. He ended with a gloomy, "I'm sure Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are spitting mad at me."

"Not really," Lupin countered evenly. "I was just inside, and nobody said a word about a fight."

Harry vacillated between shock that Lupin had been inside the Dursleys' home and bewilderment that Dudley hadn't tattled. Or maybe he'd been afraid to in front of Lupin?

"I thought your aunt and uncle might need reminding that you're being watched over," Lupin explained. "And I wanted to ask them about allowing you a guest for the summer – provided you agree, of course."

A guest? So Lupin was staying? And if he was – did that mean Voldemort was loose here in Little Whinging? Suddenly chilled, Harry managed through numb lips, "Y-you? But why?"

"Oh, no, not me, Harry. I may be unemployed – strictly speaking, of course, since the Order doesn't give salaries – but I'm not homeless. Yet." Lupin grinned wryly. "No, Harry, your visitor would be Hermione."

Hermione?

On the one hand, Harry was relieved; clever as she was, Hermione wouldn't be posted as his bodyguard if the Dark Lord was stomping around the neighborhood. On the other, however, he was abruptly torn: With Hermione here, how could he spend time with Quinn?

It seemed a silly fear, he realized. Quinn didn't strike him as the jealous type – unlike Cho, she probably wouldn't burst into hysterical tears if he made plans with Hermione. And, being girls, he assumed Hermione and Quinn would have fun together. Not to mention that Hermione, raised by Muggles like Harry, probably had some tips for acting normally around her old non-magic friends during the holidays. So why did he feel like he had to choose between the two of them, instead of being delighted to spend his summer with one of his best friends and a girl he was really beginning to like?

Maybe you like both girls, and that's the problem…

Harry stamped on that thought. He and Hermione were friends and only friends – nothing more.

Lupin looked perplexed by Harry's solemn silence – understandably so. Forcing a cheerful smile into place, Harry said brightly, "Sure! Of course I want her to visit. Would it be for the whole summer? Is Ron coming, too?"

"She'd be here for most of the summer, I expect. And…uh, Molly isn't ready to let any of her chicks out of the coop just yet."

Harry shuddered as he recalled Voldemort's near-fatal attack on Mr. Weasley and the danger he'd put Ron in on their "rescue mission" to the Ministry of Magic. No wonder Mrs. Weasley wasn't ready to have her children far away from her, let alone staying with the one person they knew Voldemort wanted dead!

But the Weasleys' safety brought to mind another question – one Harry asked with a dry mouth and hammering heart: "Are…Are you…Is the order still…staying at Sirius's house?"

At Sirius's name, raw pain flashed across Lupin's face. "I can't tell you that, Harry, you know that." He cleared his throat and visibly composed himself. "Anyway, Hermione's grandmother is quite ill, and the Grangers had intended for her to stay with Molly while they took care of her. But Hermione suggested coming here instead. She thought you might be lonely."

Harry colored a bit under Lupin's teasing smile. Sweet Hermione – always worried for him, especially now, after Sirius…

Shoving sad thoughts aside, he asked, "So what'd the Dursleys say? Can she come?"

"Well, I think they realized I was more here to inform them of your guest's arrival than to ask their permission." They shared a grin. "Naturally, I also explained that Hermione grew up in a 'regular' house, and that they won't incur any expense on her behalf, and that you two won't make any trouble." Lupin looked rather sternly at Harry's cuts and bruises. "They seemed all right with it, I suppose."

So, Hermione was really coming. For the first time in the conversation, Harry felt a tingle of excitement about her visit – truth be told, even with Quinn, he was a bit lonely, because no one on Privet Drive had known Sirius or cared about his death. It would be nice to have Hermione to talk to, to share his memories with.

Lupin rose. "I should be getting back. Hermione's parents are bringing her here the day after tomorrow." He paused, scrutinizing Harry. "How are you?"

The simple question, loaded with meaning, nearly reduced Harry to tears. How was he?

I miss Sirius, I'm half-mad with grief, I can't believe I was stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick…

Unsure why he couldn't share any of this with Lupin, a trusted friend and probably the person who had known Sirius best since James died, Harry struggled to keep his voice and face impassive. "I'm okay. And you? How are…things?"

"About the same. A bit more hectic now that the word is out, but it's also swelled our ranks. Dumbledore's in control, as always." Lupin smiled tiredly. "I really have to get back. You take care of yourself, Harry."

"I will."

Lupin retrieved a broom Harry hadn't even noticed from inside the gate. "No more fights," he cautioned, as he climbed onto the broom. "Save your anger for where it matters. And," he grinned wickedly, "show that beautiful lady of yours a good time, huh?"

Harry barely had time to blush before Lupin pushed off from the ground and disappeared into the night sky.

"There's a message for you. That ruddy bird nearly dropped it in my tea."

Ignoring Uncle Vernon's grousing, Harry silently took his envelope upstairs. Neither his aunt nor uncle had mentioned Lupin's visit, Hermione's impending arrival or the bruises on Harry's face; in fact, they had both made a pointed effort not to look at him. The puffiness around Aunt Petunia's eyes made Harry wonder if they had been fighting again.

Upstairs, Dudley's door was closed, but Harry heard the TV on inside. Why hadn't Dudley told on him for the fight? Was he too afraid of being cursed for causing his cousin trouble? Had he told and the Dursleys were too frightened of repercussions to punish him?

Or, was Dudley's silence because he, like Harry, sensed the tension between Vernon and Petunia and didn't want to cause further trouble?

Sighing, Harry shut his bedroom door and flopped onto the bed. Hedwig hooted at him from her cage. "I'll have a letter for you in a minute," Harry promised her. He recognized the handwriting on the envelope – Hermione's. He had a feeling she was going to expect a response.

Ripping open the letter, he read:

Harry –

I hope your aunt and uncle agree to let me come and we aren't getting you in any trouble. My grandma is in the hospital and Mum and Dad think it would be better if I wasn't there.

When you get this, send me a reply with Hedwig so I know you're okay. I'm sorry Ron can't come. I'm bringing this really great book Mum bought me, Keeping Your Magic Sharp On School Holidays. It has lots of great ideas for practicing 'magic' without violating the Statute of Secrecy or the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. I think we'll really be ahead of everyone else in the fall if we practice over the summer, don't you?

Please take care of yourself.

- Hermione

Sighing, Harry crossed to his desk and flopped down in front of a blank sheet of paper. He wasn't as excited about Hermione at the prospect of studying their entire holiday away – after all, Hogwarts teachers always gave them homework over the summer break, although he suspected Hermione already had hers done – but he figured he could distract her from it once she arrived. No, what he was really worried about, what was making composing his reply so difficult, was Quinn: Did he mention her now, or wait until Hermione was here?

Harry chewed on his pen cap. Why was this so confusing? He'd never thought of Hermione as a girl – well, not really, anyway. She was pretty, really pretty sometimes, and they got on fabulously, most of the time. He suspected Ron had a crush on her. Was it possible that he, Harry, had a crush on her, too? He'd never found it difficult to discuss his relationship with Cho with Hermione, or to hear about Hermione's pen-pal status with Victor Krum, but…

But I'm ready to kill whenever Draco sneers at her. And no matter who else is there, whenever we're in danger, I'm always more worried about her than anyone else. That's just because we're friends, though – right?

Heaving yet another sigh, Harry dropped his forehead onto the desk. He was tired, and his body ached thanks to the fight he'd so stupidly gotten in. What he really wanted was to crawl into bed and day-dream about kissing Quinn.

Then stop being silly and write this letter, his inner voice ordered.

Resolutely, Harry put pen to paper and scribbled:

Hermione,

Lupin was here, and no, the Dursleys aren't mad at me. They said it'd be fine for you to come. I'm really excited to see you.

The book sounds interesting. I'm sure we'll go swimming and stuff, too. I think you'll really like my new neighbor, Quinn. She's American and we've been hanging out.

See you soon,

Harry

He read and reread the letter, trying to determine if it sounded all right. In the end, he decided to wait until morning to send it – he could read it again with fresh eyes and a fresh mind after he had some sleep.

Ignoring Hedwig's reproachful look, Harry opened her cage and carried her to the window. She pecked at his hand imploringly, as if to say, Where's the letter? "Be back by morning," he instructed. "I need some time to think about this one. Go have fun."

Contented, Hedwig soared out into the night. Harry cast one more uncertain look at the letter on his desk before falling into bed. Maybe he'd sleep off whatever craziness this was, and awake without a gnawing sensation of guilt in his gut for writing to Hermione about his new girlfriend.