Magic of Love
--Dancing With Lightning
A/N: Heyyy! I'm getting back on the horse and actually starting to write again! I haven't written for a while, basically, because I got some really nasty comments about a school story I had to write, and I haven't been confident enough to write again. So lots of praise (and reviewing) would be great! Haha, I knew I'd be able to fit in that 'reviewing'. Haha! No, seriously, I'm not kidding about the comments thing, though. So, yeah. I'm really a little nervous about writing again. Wish me luck! crosses fingers
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Warner Bros or any other thing associated with Harry Potter or J.K Rowling. The name of story is also taken from a song, called the Magic of Love. Duh.
Chapter 1
Hermione sat in her room, looking wistfully out of the window at the clouds forming on the horizon. She'd been locked in her room for the last week, and she had a small feeling that her parents weren't going to let her out.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away impatiently. Last week, before Ron, Harry and her left for Godric's Hollow like they'd planned, she told them she wanted to crop by her house to tell her parents what was happening and what she planned to do.
She never thought they'd react like they did.
She'd never seen her father yell, but he did, shoving Harry and Ron out of the front door. She'd never, ever seen her mother cry as her husband grabbed their daughter roughly and pulled her p the stairs. Hermione had never seen her dad so mad before. He'd never hit her before, either.
It wasn't that her parents were bad people: they were just very protective of their daughter. So protective, in fact, that when Hermione tried to go back down the stairs and follow Harry and Ron, her father slapped her and slung her to the ground.
Another tear slipped down her cheek as she touched the bruises on her arms and side. All she wanted to do now was leave, and every time she tried, her father would hit her again.
She could see it was hurting him as well; he didn't like hitting his daughter. But she could tell that he thought it was the only way to keep her inside.
She couldn't Apparate either, for some reason. She'd heard a theory that if the wizard or witch was mentally strained or really upset, they couldn't.
So Hermione was stuck in her room, watching the sun slowly set and hearing the noise of her parents making dinner downstairs.
She didn't even notice the doorbell ring until her mother poked her head in the door.
"Hermione, dear. There's a boy here to see you, and your father he's not from Hogwarts, so he said he could come up."
Hermione just stared out of the window, ignoring her mother. She jumped when a soft hand touched her shoulder, and she turned.
The teenage boy in front of her was tall, with ocean blue eyes and golden blonde hair. He smiled slightly. "Hey, 'Mione."
She stared. "…Connor?"
He smiled, sitting next to her on the window seat. "It's me."
"God!" She leaned over and hugged him tightly. "What are you doing here!"
"Well, I had a feeling my best friend was in trouble. We were born at the same time, on the same day, remember? I have a connection to you. Besides, it helps that our mothers are friends, and we went to the same school for years."
She smiled. "I missed you, Connor."
"Yes, well, we haven't seen each other for a while. I thought we should catch up. Did you know," he said, smiling at her, "we haven't seen each other for… um, three years."
"We kept up with email, though," she reminded him, "and you were in Australia one summer!"
"And you in France another," he smiled. "I can remember things. But, I wanted to talk to you. First of all, why are you up here on such a lovely summer's day—well, evening, I suppose."
It was a joke, but Hermione didn't smile.
"…'Mione?"
"Dad won't let me go anywhere, and when I try, he just puts me back up here."
Connor looked outraged. "Why?"
"Because I want to go somewhere where I might get killed."
"Nice to be general, Hermione. Wanna tell me more so I can help?"
She looked at him with tortured eyes. "I can't," she whispered.
"Right, then." He stood, pacing the room. "Well, it seems important to you, life and death important, apparently—are you sure you're not over exaggerating? No? Okay, well because it's that important, I'm going to get you out of here. Pack a bag."
She stood, throwing a few clothes into a suitcase and throwing it out of a window. A quiet thump was heard as it landed on a garden bed. She pulled on a coat that went to her mid-thigh in length. When Connor wasn't looking, she took her wand from under her pillow and stowed it in the back of her jeans. She nodded at him.
"Let's go."
He smiled, took her hand, and pulled her down the stairs, poking his head through the kitchen door.
"Mrs Granger? Hermione fell asleep while I was in there. Mm-hm. Yes, I know she's upset, but I'll come visit her tomorrow. Sure, sure. Of course I'll bring her some books. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Bye, Mr Granger!"
He pulled his head out of the door and pulled Hermione silently out of the front door. "Go get your suitcase," he whispered as soon as the door was closed.
"I have to go past the kitchen window!" she whispered frantically back.
"Go around the whole other way, then. But be fast. You and I know your mother."
She nodded, and took off towards the left of the house, returning a few minutes later with her suitcase.
"Here. Give me the suitcase, it's not heavy." Hermione, panting, passed Connor the suitcase, and they both jogged silently into the street.
Half and hour later, Hermione began to laugh hysterically, slowing down when they reached a park. "It was so easy," she giggled, and Connor smiled. "I can't believe that we just got away like that…" and suddenly she was sobbing, leaning into her friend for support.
"Shh. It's okay. Let's not stop. Where's the place you want to go?"
"Connor, shut up for a moment." She pulled away, biting her lip. Her eyes lit on a house across the park, and she smiled. "Wait here. I'll be back in few minutes. Make sure you can't be seen from the road."
"If they've realised you're gone, they'll be looking for you," he nodded. "Fine. Go. But be quick, for God's sake."
She smiled and ran, leaving Connor in the darkness of the park.
She knocked on the door of the house, smiling at the two owls out the front of the house clutching letters.
A young woman opened the door, her shocking bubblegum pink hair bright in the lights from inside. Hermione gasped. "Tonks! I didn't know you lived here!"
She smiled. "Wotcher, Hermione. What can I do for you?"
"I need to borrow an owl. I have to write to Rufus Scrimegour."
She smiled. "Just come talk to him. Remus and I are chatting to him now."
Hermione followed Tonks into the house and into the living room, where the lionly Minister sat. "Minister," she started. "I need your approval. There is a muggle trying to help me escape and find what Harry, Ron and I are. I can't and won't tell you what it is, but we're going to Godric's Hollow, and he's not stupid. He'll get suspicious—"
"You may tell him everything, Miss Granger, with my regards."
She stopped, surprised. "Uh… thankyou, sir."
Fleeing from the house before he changed his mind, she met Connor in the park.
"Don't ask questions yet," she told him, clutching a piece of parchment from the Minister approving the fact that he knew. It had followed her from the house. He squinted at it.
"What-"
"No questions. Be quiet and follow me."
She walked to the road, and pulled out her wand, lightning the tip with a single thought. She stuck it out into the road.
"What are you doing? Are you trying to let your parents catch us?"
"They won't. And I said, no questions."
Connor yelled as a large, purple bus screeched to a stop in front of them. Hermione stepped onto the bud, motioning for Connor to do the same.
"The Leaky Cauldron. Now."
"Miss Granger," the bus driver nodded politely. "I expect this is important business for Mr Potter?"
She nodded. "Very important. Quickly, if you please."
Hermione stood straight as Connor fell when the bus took off at an amazing speed.
"This speed is illegal!" he cried.
"I know." Hermione nodded. "Well, it's illegal where you're from, and where I used to be. Things are different not—don't ask. I'll tell you when the time is right."
"That a muggle, then?" the bus driver asked.
Hermione nodded. "I have permission from the Minister himself."
"I'm not to ask questions, Miss."
"What's a muggle?" Connor asked, but shut up when Hermione looked at him pointedly. "Right. No questions."
The bus stopped, and Hermione fell over. "What's going on?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.
"I don't want to alarm, Miss Granger, but there's Death Eaters out there."
"Time to go," Hermione gripped Connor's arm and hauled him to his feet, running up the stairs of the bus.
"Who are they?" Connor asked.
"They're not nice people, to put it mildly," Hermione murmured, nodding to an old witch sitting in a chair. She smiled.
"You were never here, dearie."
"Thankyou, ma'am." She pulled open the window of the bus and smiled at Connor. "Here we go."
Jumping out, a short, plump figure caught her. "Wouldn't want you to land and break your pretty little ankles," he murmured.
"Connor!" she called. "Stay up there!"
"Are you mad?" Her friend jumped and landed on top of the middle-aged man.
"Who is he?" he asked as Hermione bent over the gasping man.
"Wormtail. Oh, god. It's Peter Pettigrew. Connor, we have to run."
"Um, there's someone behind you."
"Hello, Miss Granger."