Ch 2: House Visit
There was that tingling feeling again, what was it? He couldn't quite place his finger on it before he looked into the eyes of the headmaster. Dumbledor was oddly quiet; his crystal eyes glistened as a tear slowly slid down his aged cheek, "Harry. It is time to listen to an old man again."
Ron coughed, his face beat red and a look of envy on his face as Harry stroked her back. Hermione pulled away for a second, but instantly buried her face in his chest again; Harry's stomach was insatiable, he didn't feel like he would be able to stand there much longer as he petted her hair. Dumbledor signaled for him to sit down, and Harry noticed the plush purple chair behind him now; he slowly lowered himself down dragging Hermione with him, as she sat she curled up in his arms.
"As I'm sure you're aware, the ministry has acknowledged the existence of Voldemort now and has begun to prepare. Unfortunately it has come too late, and several people have been struck out against." Hermione sobbed especially hard at the last bit of information; Harry knew what had happened now, but he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't really have done that could he?
"I'm sure the pain in your scar has been a result of him using the killing curse, Harry." Dumbledor's eyes didn't have the sparkle in them they had but a few minutes ago, "the targets haven't been… well they were specifically chosen." Harry looked down at the whimpering girl in his arms; no, it couldn't have been her parents could it? It was all because he let her come with him to the Department of Mysteries, then again he didn't even need to have gone. Damn, he thought about Sirius again; the tingling feeling had all but stopped the sorrow overwhelmed him; damn it! Why hadn't he listened to this girl who was in his lap, and just then she choose to look up at him through her tear stained face.
Dumbledor had continued to talk to them, but Harry had stopped listening and was intently staring into the soft cinnamon eyes. Her gaze unbroken as he softly pushed a strand of hair from her face, tucked it behind her ear; her eyes still watering, as a tear rolled down her face, but he wiped it away with his thumb. He couldn't feel his stomach at all now; then again he couldn't feel his fingers as they touched her thick hair. "… with you for the rest of summer," Dumbledor continued.
"What?" Ron yelled, but Dumbledor didn't look at him. He was staring intently on the two in the chair, who had looked up at the outburst. "I thought she was going to be coming back to the Burrow." He was now up in arms, pacing back and forth in front of the two teenagers, "Hermione where do you want to go? You want to stay at the Burrow, right?"
What? What was going on, Harry thought. Hermione looked up at Ron for a moment, as if analyzing his red hair and bright freckles, then looked back at Dumbledor. He nodded, and she looked back at Harry then back to Ron. What was going on? What was Ron trying to say? I thought I would be going to the Burrow as well, what's the problem?
She looked back at Harry, as if pondering a hard decision, her eyes slowly drifted down to her hands that were resting on his chest. She smiled, she simply light up the room but just to him; when she looked back at him her smile had faded, but she turned to Ron and clumsily stood up. He looked as if he had won, but she lightly kissed his cheek and then sat back down in Harry's arms hiding her face eyes from what would happen next. He's going to lose it, Harry thought and just as he did Ron began to throw a fit; He was yelling and crying and shaking as he headed into the other room. Ms. Fig swiftly followed him hoping that she could prevent him from breaking anything of hers.
Dumbledor smiled at Harry, as if to say 'he will get over it' but he knew it would be a difficult road for him. A loud pop behind the elderly man, and there was a woman in her late forties in a red robe and her blondish hair pulled tightly into a bun atop her head. "Ah, Professor. You have brought her things, I hope?" Dumbledor asked not looking away from the two teenagers who sat staring into each others eyes.
"I have; Potter, Ms.Granger shall we depart for the house. It won't be easy to convince your relatives to take her in." She walked in front of the headmaster as they all stood up, and headed towards the door. Hermione looked back at the headmaster, dropping Harry's hand she quickly walked back to him and gave him a hug that he delicately returned.
"Be good my dear," he said softly as she let go; her eyes taking in the double meaning that the twinkle in his eye suggested. She only nodded as another tear began to form at the corner of her eye, but the headmaster wiped it away this time and she turned and walked back to Harry and the now cat professor. They silently walked down the road to the Dursley's, hand in hand like best friends not looking a anything but the ground. When Harry opened the door to let Hermione and the cat into the house they were greeted by Vernon Dursley.
The portly man stood tall and looked furious at the girl who was now standing in the living room, "What is the meaning of this BOY?"
In the second it took for the man to round on Harry, the professor had transformed from the cat back to her tall stern stature. The man was taken aback at the transformation, but his brow quickly furrowed and he moved towards the woman now. She just put up her hand and he stopped, "I shall make this short and to the point. Harry and Hermione will be staying with you until Harry's birthday in a month; until the time in which we pick them up, you shall provide for them and keep them safe. And give them peace."
The stern chill in her voice made even Harry scared to say anything to her, but when she turned to leave he gave the two a weak smile and enlarged the trunk with Hermione's things on the floor. With a pop, she was gone and the two young teenagers were left with an angry Vernon to deal with. He gave them one last look, before stroking his mustache as he walked away. Nothing is as simple as it seems, Harry thought as he picked up the trunk and carried it up the steps to his room with Hermione in tow.
"Albus, you know that they'll be staying in the same room. Possibly even the same bed?" the professor asked after she had reappeared in the office where Dumbledor sat looking into a bowl of shimmering water. "What if something were to happen?"
"What my dear," he paused swirling the liquid, "makes you think that's not exactly what I want?" He smiled as he looked up at the professor.
A/N: I know that the writing style is a little different. I've been thinking about how to make my style a bit more interesting, and I know that it doesn't follow the standards of writing. If you look at JKR's books though, you'll notice she doesn't follow any kinds of standards either, in fact most great authors don't really follow the rules of writing. Not that I'm good at writing or anything, just a thought.
