So I recently joined the H.M.S Harmony Discord server. This was my response to their 200 Word Drabble Tuesday. As you might have seen, my work got much longer. I was encouraged to post it here and on Ao3 (same account name).
So please Read, Review and Favorite. Keeps my muse alive when faced with uni classes.
Harry breathed hard, his breath misting in the unseasonable cold as he collapsed onto the swings. Even as he struggled to catch his breath, little bursts of laughter left him as Marge's high-pitched squeals rang in his memory.
He should have felt guilty for loosing control of his magic like that, but when Marge insulted his parents for the umpteenth time… well, he couldn't find it in himself to feel particularly contrite for defending their sacrifices. His cathartic glee was short-lived as a cold breeze cut through his shirt, reminding him of just what had happened.
He had performed accidental magic on Marge before leaving in the middle of the night, with only his school trunk and nowhere to go. Digging his school cloak out of his trunk, he started to think. Before he got too far, the hair rose on the back of his neck and a shiver ran down his spine. He whirled knowing better than to ignore that instinct after two encounters with Voldemort.
"Come out! I know you're there," he demanded, his wand gripped tight.
The bushes behind the swing set ruffled and he tensed. When a black dog cautiously stepped into the moon light, Harry sagged in mixed relief and disbelief.
"A dog?"
When it whined a little, Harry realised that he was still tensed for a fight, something the dog could probably sense. He put his wand in his back pocket and kneeled down, reaching his hand out.
"Its alright. You just startled me, boy."
Harry was rather surprised when the dog practically ran over and started sniffing him. As Harry petted him, he realised the dog's ribs were practically showing and that he could feel the dog's bones underneath his hand.
"Oh, you poor thing. You've been completely starved, haven't you? I know what that feels like." He was taken aback when the dog stopped its examination of him and looked at him. Was that sadness in its eyes? Harry wondered if it could understand him, but before he could think too much on that the dog tackled him to the ground, licking at his face.
"Whoa! Hey. Hahaha-ack! Ugh! Enough! You got your drool in my mouth! Down, boy!"
Harry got into a sitting position as the dog backed off. He groped on the ground for the cloak he'd dropped and wiped off his face. He looked at the cloak, now covered in drool.
"Ugh. I hope that washes out." The dog seemed to whine apologetically. "Uh huh. Sure. I'm not falling for the pathetic act again. I'm onto you."
The dog huffed at him. Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Did you just snort at me?"
'Bark!'
His eyes narrowed further. "All right then. I had a couple of Pumpkin Pasties in my trunk, and a bit of fudge, I think. I'll just keep it to myself then!"
Before he could even go to get up, he found himself on his back, with 100 pounds of dog on his chest and dozens of apologetic licks.
"All right, all right! I'll feed you, you mutt! Just get- ack! Pfft! Not again! OFF!"
The dog climbed off of him looking smugly satisfied with itself as Harry tried to wipe off the new helping of drool all over his face. It was even in his hair!
As Harry got the food out of his trunk and grudgingly handed the pasty over, taking the other for himself, he returned to thinking about his dilemma. The last train would be running within the half hour at the Tube and there was no way the local bus line was getting him there in time to catch it. And how would he pay for either? Handing over gold coins was just asking to be hauled in for stealing artifacts or some such, and Harry had no illusions about the Dursley's bailing him out.
He looked over to the dog, who had just finished scarfing down the pasty. Feeling sympathetic (he knew that kind of hunger), he tossed over the rest of his pasty which was snapped out of the air and swallowed.
"That's all you're getting. I know better than to feed dogs chocolate."
'Whine…'
"No."
The dog got to its feet, walked over, and plunked itself down next to Harry, putting its head in his lap and gazing up at him soulfully.
"Don't look at me like that. Chocolate isn't good for dogs."
It huffed and closed its eyes, seemingly giving up. Harry went back to scratching its head as he considered the problem.
"What to do?" He looked down at the dog. "You're pretty smart, aren't ya boy? Should I walk into London? Or should I kip down here and leave in the morning? Could probably use that drooled-on cloak for a blanket."
The dog opened its eyes and raised its head out of his lap to look at Harry. Then it got up and pushed Harry back to the ground.
"Hey! No more licking! What-?"
Harry stopped his indignant spluttering as the dog lay down over him. Harry immediately felt the mild chill that had seeped into him flee as the dog's body heat radiated into him. As the dog laid his head over Harry's heart, the boy looked at the dog in wonder.
"Are you… trying to keep me warm?"
'Woof.'
Harry felt a different sort of warmth curl inside his chest. Tears pricked his eyes and his arms wrapped around the dog as he buried his face in its fur. As he revelled in warmth and the feeling of someone caring about him, another memory sparked in his brain.
"Harry!"
The force of a body slamming into him sending him stumbling backward. The smell of green apple shampoo, old parchment and ink flooding his nose.
Arms flung around his neck and shoulders in a tight, familiar, warm hug that he automatically reciprocated as he caught the speeding girl.
"You did it!" a delirious happy whisper in his ear.
"Couldn't have done it without you…" he hears his voice whisper back as he revelled in the warmth.
"Not without you…"
"Hermione!"
The dog started to its feet as Harry shot up from the ground. Harry scrambled to get his feet under him before diving for the trunk.
"How could I miss that? Stupid. Stupid Harry! Where is that bloody parchment?!"
Harry smiled triumphantly when his hand closed around a piece of parchment inside the pockets of one of his cloaks. He looked down at the words and numbers written in perfect cursive. Her solution to Harry's worrying over sending Hedwig to a muggle neighbourhood.
"And what's wrong with muggle post? Honestly, Harry."
Harry's smile turned fond. For all that Harry considered himself muggle raised, it seemed Wizarding lack of common sense was starting to affect him. But her? Never her. As he continued to look at the parchment, the dog nose entered the field, sniffing at the parchment. Harry's hand automatically jerked it away – he couldn't get drool on his salvation!
He quickly got to his feet and bundled the drooled-on cloak into the trunk. As he got to his feet, he could feel the wind being let out of his sail.
"How am I supposed to get to Crawley?" He cursed a blue streak. It was even further away than London!
"Woof!"
Harry stumbled forward and a tug on his jeans. He turned around to find the dog with a stick in its mouth.
"Sorry boy, I can't play catch right now. Wait, where'd you find the stick! No, no, no! Not my stick-… wand! Wand! That's my wand! Drop it, drop it right now!"
The dog took off for the edge of the park, Harry hot on its heels, dragging his trunk.
"Hey! Stop! I fed you, dammit! Drop the stick-… wand! It's a wand, Potter. Stop! Bad boy!"
As they approached the edge of the park, the dog finally slowed. But as Harry raced up, the dog threw his wand into the street!
Harry dropped his trunk and lunged forward, Seeker reflexes at full and snatched the wand at the top of its arc. Just as he turned to scream at the dog, there was a loud BANG!
Harry whirled to look down the street and goggled at the bright purple triple-decker bus (with gold decals!) barreling down the street. He barely jumped out of the way as it screeched to a stop before him.
Harry kept staring as the door to the first level opened and a pimply young man stepped out.
"Allo! Welcome ta the Knight Bus! Emergency transportation for any stranded witch or wizard! Ah'm Stan Shunpike and I'll be ya conductor this evenin'. Oi, watchu doin' on the ground?"
The cockney accent jarred Harry out of his shock.
"Resting?" he blurted out.
"Resting? Well, watchu doin' that out here on a cold night for? Come on in, young wizard! Its warmah an' we've go' hot chocolate too! For a price, of course. Come on!"
Harry's brain finally re-engaged at the thought of warmth and hot chocolate.
"Right. Right! I'll just get my trunk." He scrambled to his feet before the conductor… Stan he remembered, interrupted.
"I've got tha. Git inside! Go on."
Harry shrugged and climbed on. Then whirled.
"Hang on! The dog!"
Stan, who had picked up the trunk and was stumbling slightly under the weight, looked at Harry and the looked around.
"Wot dog? I don't see no dog."
Harry was also looking around. Stan was right. The dog was gone. Harry kept on looking, straining his eyes into the darkness, trying to look for the dog as Stan finally got Harry's trunk on board.
"Aye, aye. Time to get on with it, Mr. … right, sorry! Didn't get name, Mr. …?"
Harry started and turned to Stan. Realising what he'd been asked, Harry wondered how to respond. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with a Harry Potter fan. He scratched the back his head for a moment before responding.
"Neville!" he said. "Neville… Thomas."
Harry sweated slightly under Stan's gaze. Resignation filled him as Stan's eyes did the familiar flick to his forehead and widened.
"Right. Well, then… where ya headed, Mr.… Thomas?" Harry goggled as Stan smirked and winked.
"Umm-, ah… ahem, 124 Verona Walk, Crawley." Harry spluttered out.
Stan studiously wrote that down in a book and quickly stated, "Aye, we'll get ya there safe'n'sound, Mr. Thomas. It'll be 15 sickles, 17 if'n you want a toothbrush an' 19 if'n ya want hot chocolate."
Harry smiled slightly as he handed over 24 sickles. When Stan counted it and raised an eyebrow, Harry returned the smirk. The sickles vanished into Stan's coat and he nodded.
"Much obliged, Mr. Thomas. Now, git yerself to a seat an' hold on."
Harry got himself settled and then heard: "Take 'er away, Ern!"
BANG!
And Harry was off on the most fantastic ride of his life. Nothing like diving from 50 feet up, but still…
-x-x-x-x
BANG!
10 minutes later, Harry was standing in the midst of beautifully kept homes. And they felt like homes, each one colorful and unique – actually feeling like homes rather than the depressing cookie cutters of Privet Drive.
Harry looked at the house he was standing in front of.
Walls painted a deep blue, dark brown windowsills, and a bright red door. He saw a large wooden swing and it was effortless to imagine Hermione curled up there with a book under bright sunlight with a cup of tea or a tall glass of lemonade.
As he started to walk up to the door, he froze. Hermione's parent! How were they going to react to this?! A strange boy, showing up in the middle of the night and asking to kip down on their couch because he got thrown out of his own house?
'Maybe I should have stayed at the playground? Or gone to the Leaky? Yeah, the Leaky sounds better.'
Before he could turn back and summon the Knight Bus to take him to Charring Cross, the porch light flickered on and the door opened.
Her voice washed over him. "Mum, I'm telling you, there was a bang! Something could have… happened…"
She trailed off as her eyes landed on him. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of her. She'd shot up, he could tell, and was almost as tall as him. Her hair was still bushy, but it fit her better now with her height. She was wearing the cutest yellow robe (with ducks!) over a pair of green pajama bottoms and what appeared to be a white t-shirt.
"Harry?" Her voice was faint.
"Hi Hermione." Harry rubbed at the back of his hair sheepishly. There went the Leaky!
"Harry!" She bolted at him, slamming into him as he caught her in a recreation of the end-of-term feast in June. The scent of green apples was stronger than ever, mixing with parchment and ink into the heady scent that was perfectly… Hermione.
"Hey." 'Hey? Hey? Is that the best you can do for seeing your friend for the first time in 2 months? Well done, Potter.'
Hermione stepped back a bit, not out of the hug, but enough to look at him.
"Harry, what are you doing here? I didn't think that I'd see you until August. And why haven't you written? Are you okay? Why are you here so late at night?"
Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing as Hermione's rapid-fire questioning loosened the tight coil of worry in his stomach. Why was he worried? With Hermione, with his best friend, he could handle anything! Even disapproving parents! Letting out a bark of laughter, for the first time in his life he grabbed Hermione in a hug, revelling in the little Eep! she let out at the action.
His laughter eventually got her laughing as well. After a moment, they let go of each other.
"All right, mister. Start talking. Late night visit and a hug?! I don't know if I should be worried or happy."
Harry took her in, hair bushier than ever, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling in joy.
"It's a long story Hermione."
She folded her arms and looked at him.
Harry fidgeted.
"All right. Come inside and we'll talk. And somehow explain this to Mum and Dad. But you, you can start by explaining this: why is there what looks like drool in your hair?"
Harry smiled and followed her into the house. All was well.