Chapter 3: We'll Find the Ocean
The first time Harry met Hermione, he was in complete awe of her. And not just because she was a pretty girl, or even because she was a very smart girl. No, it was because Harry could understand her. It was almost like looking in a mirror and having their roles flipped. He was sneaking glances into her life, while she, his. After their first chance meeting at the playground, all Harry wanted to do was see Hermione again. During long nights he mostly forgot his Uncle, Aunt and Cousin - at least on days when he wasn't smacked or kicked around by any of them. And instead focused on his new best friend.
Perhaps it was obsessive the way he thought about her and what her sad, marble eyes looked like. Or if she would be even more beautiful dressed in powder pink and with her hair down. Yes, Harry still liked to imagine. But he was imagining much happier things now. He imagined walking hand in hand with Hermione by the Ocean, with his parents not too far behind. A little ways ahead of them strode a golden furred cat, and by Harry's legs, a big black dog. What a pair we would be. Harry thought, cocking his head to one side as he marched his toy brigade of men on horseback to rescue an imaginary princess. Yes, life was definitely better with Hermione Granger nearby.
As the humid summer months melted into crisp autumn evenings, Harry began to wonder about what school would be like. He was 11 now sure, but that didn't make him grow bigger or more sturdy. Unlike Dudley who seemed to grow more every day, Harry seemed to shrink. And as classes began, he started coming home with more and more bruises. These were often on his face, and after school, Hermione would tend to every single one with an ice pack and soft words. They didn't have long conversations on days like this, just enjoyed each other's company as Hermione and Harry spent every cold afternoon at the playground. Sometimes, roles were revered and it was Harry who had to do the comforting. Hermione would limp along in a sorry state; scraped knees and teary eyed. And god dammit Harry hated it.
He hated the way she would turn from him ashamed, or hold herself like she would blow away in the autumn breezes. He hated the way she would hold back her painful cries as he picked small pebbles from the scrapes in her legs from being tripped at school, or wipe the tears from her cheeks which rubbed her face raw. The protectiveness Harry felt for Hermione only made his anger rise up into his throat. And when this happened, sometimes, things exploded. It was usually just dirt or the lamppost which someone kept replacing, but Harry knew if he ever found out who was hurting his friend, they would be the one to explode.
Harry, of course, noticed that Hermione's weirdness acted in a similar manner. When she was distressed or scared or angry, her entire body seemed to alight with sparks, like some kind of invisible shield had come up to block the hurt. Harry had been burned quite a few times by these random electricity bursts, but he didn't mind it. In his eyes, it only made Hermione more beautiful. Because she was just like him. A freak. And he liked her that way. They were two of a kind. Rocking back and forth in the same tiny boat.
It seemed especially bad after Harry's first run in with Dudley and his friends in months. Hermione had been smart enough to hide herself, but Harry had to face his cousin. The whale of a kid beat him up. It was no worse then usual, but to just imagine the pained look on Hermione's face as it happened caused Harry's inner rage to build. And like he thought, something exploded (and it definitely wasn't just the nearby lamppost). Dudley was thrown off his feet and across the playground by a shockwave which rippled the earth. No doubt all of Privet Drive felt it as the boys scampered away in fear. Dudley had to limp home, and sounded like he was crying.
You're alright, Harry. Hermione practically whispered to him, caressing his bruised cheek and feeling the raised indent of his scar under the flop of his hair. She was crying, practically cradling him to her chest as she sniffled weakly, you'll be alright.
Harry didn't go back home that night. He and Hermione stayed at the playground, listening to the wailing of another cold rainstorm outside the highest plastic playhouse on the jungle gym.
"Do you ever think about running away?"
Hermione's voice was soft in the darkness, barely even a whisper above the howling wind as Harry James glanced down at the girl laying across his chest. He had heard Uncle Vernon lecturing his 11 year old cousin about compromising situations before, but this didn't feel compromising at all. Hermione's head was resting on his chest as she looked up at the ugly yellow ceiling shielding them from the storm outside, "I wonder what it would be like to just run and never look back. Don't you, Harry?"
"Mm,"
Hermione's body was warm, the two of them retaining one another's heat as Harry suppressed a yawn. He hadn't been comfortable anywhere for as long as he could remember. Yet in a small playhouse with Hermione Granger safe in his arms, Harry felt himself drifting into contented sleep, "I've thought about leaving before," he said finally. It wasn't a lie. In fact, Harry had thought about it just the night before while sleeping in his favorite broom closet. Hermione cocked her head to one side and played with the hem of Harry's shirt with her small fingers,
"Why don't you leave then, if your relatives are so bad to you?"
"I wouldn't have anywhere else to go," Harry mumbled, reaching out to mindlessly bat at one of Hermione's loose ringlets. He wanted to see what she looked like with her hair down; she would probably be beautiful, "what about you?"
"I can leave whenever I please while reading," Hermione breathed softly, "I can travel to the farthest ocean and stowaway on a sailing brig full of pirates. Or maybe ride down the river Nile in a long boat made of grasses and twine,"
"That sounds great,"
Harry pulled his friend closer to him as Hermione sighed contentedly, "would you miss them?"
"My family? No,"
"I wouldn't either," Hermione's voice sounded almost teary as she sniffled slightly, " sometimes I think my parents just...just forget I exist,"
I wish my family were to forget I exist. Harry thought, twisting a lip at the mere thought of Vernon Dursley. He'd have to go back eventually. Back to his closet, back to his cousin and his broken toy soldiers, and back to a life of fear and hatred...maybe leaving wouldn't be such a bad idea after all?
"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Potter?" Hermione questioned, rolling over so that she was laying with her chest against Harry's, staring down into him with her twinkling marble eyes. She looked like a princess in this light,
"What if we did run away, Hermione. Just you and me?"
There was a pause as Hermione inhaled deeply, and exhaled just the same.
"I wish we could, Harry. But it's impossible. We haven't any money. And surely the police will question two kids running around London without supervision?"
"But what if we did?" Harry felt a small smile slip onto his 11 year old face as he thought about all the opportunities, "I've never been to the Ocean before. Can you imagine it?"
Hermione thought for a long while, just to listen for the beating of Harry's heart as she breathed deeply in and out with its quiet rhythm,
"I can smell the salt water from here, Harry," Hermione mumbled, "its so beautiful,"
"Think about it, Hermione? Would either of our families care that we left? We could go and never look back. We'd be...free,"
Free. Harry had never thought of himself as a prisoner before, but the more he thought, the more it was true. He was a prisoner, locked away from the world, refused a childhood by some unknown force, as well as his Aunt and Uncle. Hermione was a prisoner too. They were in the same boat. Two of a kind. "Do families go to the Ocean together, Hermione?"
"I don't know. I've never been there either. I only know what I've seen and read in books." Hermione admitted, "would you really take me there someday, Harry? To the Ocean? We've only just met, and we're both so young-"
"Of course I would, Mione. You're the first good thing that's ever happened to me. And I mean ever. So don't even think that I'm going to leave you now. Especially with your awful parents,"
"And you with your Aunt and Uncle? I wouldn't leave you here either, Harry,"
"So you'll come with me?" Harry sat up as Hermione rolled off him and sat on her haunches, breathing shakily as Harry took her freezing white hands in his, "we'll go and find the Ocean. We'll get away from here forever, we'll never look back,"
"Never?"
Harry nodded and smiled,
"Not even for a second. I hate this place anyway, don't you?"
"Of course I do. Maybe someday we can do it, just the two of us,"
Harry pulled Hermione's figure closer to him and sighed heavily. The thought of leaving was just so appealing. But Hermione Granger was never wrong. Even Vernon Dursley's pocket of notes wouldn't be enough for a train to...well...anywhere. So Harry's mind began to turn, thinking of ways he could get them away,
"...Harry?"
"Hmm?"
Harry liked the feeling of Hermione in his arms as she shifted to get more comfortable, leaning against his chest as her breathing steadied out, and her eyes fluttered in exhaustion,
"Do you promise me we'll go someday? To the ocean I mean?"
"On my Uncles grave, 'Mione," Harry mumbled, looking out towards the dark night as he held the small Granger girl under the flat of his hand, listening half heartedly as she drifted off into a full fledged slumber, "I will get us away from here if it's the last thing I do."
