Harry recognised the little creature that Hedwig was glaring at with such malevolent intent. It, or rather a likeness of its kind, had stood in the Fountain of Magical Brethren, crystal clear water shooting out of its golden, bat-like ears.
"So, let me make my position very clear," Harry said slowly, putting his hand on his wand hilt. "I killed someone a few weeks ago, defeated the Lord Voldemort himself with the help of a few friends, and most of them are in this building. You're going to explain who you are, who you work for and what reason exactly a house-elf has for being in my room unannounced. And tell me exactly how you pissed off my owl while you're at it."
The elf, who was only up to Harry's navel in height, looked absolutely terrified. Harry could feel Ginny waiting outside, listening. The little elf bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose pressed against the carpet. It was wearing what appeared to be an old, tattered pillowcase, ripped to allow its spindly arms and legs through.
"My name is Dobby, sir," it said. "Dobby the house-elf. I... I could not tell you of the family I serve, sir."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"They isn't exactly knowing Dobby is here, sir," Dobby said, wringing its hands. "Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir..."
"And they're not going to notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" Harry winced.
"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments…"
"Look, you turn up in my room like this and Hedwig clearly wants to take a bite out of you..." Dobby jumped away from the snowy owl. "Just please explain this so I have a reason not to call for help or pull my wand on you or something."
Just then, footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Dobby snapped his bony fingers, disappearing into thin air.
"Ginny, what on earth are you doing?" Mrs Weasley's voice came.
Harry sighed and walked over to Hedwig, who was preening herself.
"I heard voices, Mum," Ginny replied.
"So you knock and ask, you don't eavesdrop," Mrs Weasley sighed. "It's why I'm here as well, Ginny."
"I've got to deal with this, Hedwig," Harry said. "I'll be right back."
She softly hooted her assent, just as Mrs Weasley knocked on the door.
"Yeah..." Harry said as he opened it. "There was a house-elf called Dobby in my room."
"... Oh."
"He wouldn't say who sent him," Harry shrugged, "and he didn't tell me why he was here because he disappeared as soon as we heard you coming."
Mrs Weasley stared at him. "You're not sleeping in here tonight, Harry. Go and wait downstairs."
Harry put his arm out to Hedwig, and went back down to the living room with her and Ginny. Mr. Weasley was watching Muggle news on the television. When he noticed them arrive, his eyebrows shot up.
"Planning on a hunting trip, you three?" he asked.
Hedwig barked her approval. Sniggering, Harry stroked the back of her head.
"No, no," Harry said. "There was a house-elf in my room."
"My word," said their father, getting to his feet. "Where is it now?"
"I don't know, Dad," Harry shrugged. "He disappeared as soon as he heard Mum coming."
"Why would a house-elf...?" Mr. Weasley muttered. His eyes went wide. "Come with me, and keep your eyes open."
They hurried down to the basement, hearing the muffled sounds of activity above. Mr. Weasley led them to a little cluster of stones. Slicing a small cut in his finger with a spell, he spilled a drop of blood on one, which glowed bright yellow. A second later, the other stones lit up in a synchronised pattern, and then each one was projecting a different pattern in pure white light. Harry couldn't begin to make sense of them, but Mr. Weasley sighed in relief.
Their father produced a silvery-blue weasel out of ethereal mist, whispered to it, and sent it skyward. A minute later, another silvery-blue creature appeared from the ceiling, this one looking slightly more like a bear. Then, it spoke with Mrs Weasley's voice.
"It's fine up here too," it said. "I'm sending the kids back to bed; we can figure this out in the morning."
"Well, you heard your mother," Mr. Weasley grinned.
"What was that?" Harry gasped.
"A little trick we learned in the war," he smiled. "It's called a Patronus Charm, Harry. Usually it's used for fending off entropic creatures like Dementors, but it can also be used to communicate."
Harry watched the explanation sail over his head, but he couldn't deny that it was some particularly impressive magic.
"According to the wards, nothing has come in or gone out that shouldn't have," Mr. Weasley sighed as he led them back up. "That's because house-elf magic works differently. However, the wards would have picked up intent to harm. Whoever that elf was, he wasn't here to hurt anyone."
Harry pondered this for a moment, turning to Hedwig. "Why were you mad at him then, girl?"
Hedwig extended her leg, to which was attached a small, thick letter. Hermione had apparently decided to make things easier on her by folding up the paper incredibly small.
"Did he try to take it from you?" Harry asked.
Hedwig bobbed her head.
"Did he do anything to it?"
Hedwig shook her head.
"You didn't let him, did you, girl?" Harry said proudly. She shook her head again, puffing out her chest and preening.
"She is a particularly smart bird," Mr. Weasley said admiringly.
"Gotcha!" Ginny cried as she snatched the letter from Harry's hand, charging up the remaining steps and into her room.
Hedwig took flight, hooting at Harry. He grinned, and raced after Ginny through the open door. Ginny wasn't there.
"Too slow!" she laughed. She was back out in the hallway. 'Damned Apparition...'
"Settle down you two," Mr. Weasley sighed. "It's gone ten o'clock, you should be in bed."
Ginny pouted up at him. "But Daddy..."
"Give me the letter, Ginny," he said.
Sullenly, she plodded over to him and put the letter in his hand.
"Now don't be like that, pumpkin," he said, lifting her chin. "Go on, give me a smile."
Ginny gave the floor a dark look for a moment, but she soon relented, grinning widely at her father.
"That's my girl," Mr. Weasley smiled. "All three of you can read this in the morning. Now off to bed, both of you."
"Were you jealous of Dudley?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Specifically for getting all those presents, and all that attention that Christmas?"
"Of course I was jealous," Harry muttered. "He got everything he wanted, even things he didn't want, and he never used any of it anyway. But I knew he would hoard it all in his second bedroom just to make sure I wouldn't get to touch any of it. As if Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would've let me."
"And how did you react?" the nurse said.
The Christmas in question, 1985, was a bad one. Harry had been at school that year for the first time, and everyone had been talking about what they wanted for Christmas.
"I cried," Harry said, feeling something wrench inside as he remembered it. "I cried and I cried, and Dudley was laughing at me, and Uncle Vernon beat me and said I'd upset the neighbours... He threw me in the cupboard with some of the wrapping paper and told me to play with that."
"And where was Aunt Petunia through all this?"
Harry thought. The memory wasn't absolutely clear - it was a very long time ago. He remembered Dudley laughing by the tree. Uncle Vernon had gotten the belt out, and was purple in the face, beating and whipping him. Aunt Petunia...
"She was drinking," Harry muttered. "She was drinking from a bottle; I don't know what it was..."
"What do you think it was, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey prodded gently.
"Alcohol," Harry said with absolute certainty.
"Why do you think that might have been, Potter?" she asked.
"She wasn't happy?" Harry suggested.
"Potter," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You're her sister's child. If she bore any love for Lily she would not have stood for her husband beating you like that. She clearly wasn't happy with the situation, as you've pointed out, so why would she turn to drink rather than try to stop your uncle?"
Harry stared at her blankly.
"Potter, why do people drink alcohol?" she said.
"To have fun?" Harry tried, thinking of what he'd heard from the twins and older students.
Madam Pomfrey pinched her nose. "Yes, it is quite popular for recreation, but your aunt wasn't at a party, Potter," she said, though not harshly. "Potter, people drink because it helps them to forget their problems. Does the phrase 'drowning your sorrows' mean anything to you?"
It did, though Harry wasn't sure where he'd heard it. "So she was drinking because she wasn't happy about me being beaten, but she couldn't do anything about it?" Harry asked. Madam Pomfrey gestured for him to carry on. "Err... I don't know, why wouldn't she be able to do anything?"
"Po... Harry..." Madam Pomfrey said. "Did your uncle ever beat her?"
Harry stared at Madam Pomfrey. He'd never thought of his aunt from that angle before. He usually remembered her screeching at him to get him up in the morning or for burning some food, or slapping him down if he made a smart comment. Had she been suffering too? Was she still?
It was a question that Harry couldn't escape. He was incapable of conversation through lunch, although that was hardly noticeable. With the continuing tensions between Percy and the twins, the only people talking were Madam Pomfrey and Mrs Weasley anyway. Ginny was as supportive as ever, transmitting warm feelings through their bond while resting her arm against his. If not for her...
"Thank you very much for the meal, Molly," Madam Pomfrey smiled, standing.
"Oh it's my pleasure, really," Mrs Weasley said. "Any time."
"Have a good weekend everyone," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Bye, Madam Pomfrey," they said in perfect synchronisation.
"Good to know that that still works," Mrs Weasley smirked.
"I'll see you next Friday, Harry," the nurse smiled.
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. "See you then."
Mrs Weasley took her by the hand and led her to the living room. "So how are things down at the hospital?"
Harry stood as well, taking his and their plates to the kitchen before heading up to his room. Ginny was there waiting for him.
She pulled him into a tight embrace, and the tension drained out of him.
"So, we're going back into the Muggle world next weekend," Ginny said. She pulled back with a grin. "Looks like those clothes will see some use after all."
"Some use?" Harry spluttered. "You wear them all the time!"
"Ron doesn't," she waved him off airily.
Hermione's reply had included an invitation. She was going on a cruise with her parents in a week on Monday, and while the Grangers couldn't take everyone with them, they could take Harry, Ginny, Ron and Neville to stay at their house for the weekend.
"Hey, have you noticed something odd about Percy?" said Harry.
"There's a few things, Harry," Ginny grinned. "You'll need to be more specific."
"This holiday," Harry expounded. "He's spent an awful lot of time locked up in his room."
Ginny frowned at him. "Yeah... I mean I thought it was just him avoiding the twins, but it hasn't gotten worse since that argument so it can't just be that..."
"Maybe he's plotting his revenge," Harry grinned.
"I would pay money to see that," Ginny said.
"Do you reckon they'll even let Hedwig carry messages for me now?" Harry said. His owl made a distressed noise, flapping over to sit on his shoulder and nudging at his head. "I know you didn't let him get it, Hedwig, but that's not the way they'll see it."
"Harry's right, you know," Ginny sighed. "They'll wonder if next time Dobby or whoever might get lucky, or overpower you."
Hedwig called indignantly, returning to her cage and putting her head under her wing.
"Hedwig..." Harry said.
"Give her time, Harry," said Ginny.
Harry closed his eyes, letting his awareness narrow to her hand on his arm and the sound of their breathing. Things were getting complicated as of late.
"Hey, err, Harry? Ginny?"
It was Ron.
"You guys might want to see this," he grinned.
They snuck down to the living room and hid either side of the door. In the kitchen, Percy and the twins were talking.
"So, ah, have you been down to the village to see that girl?" Percy asked.
"Oh, Jennifer?" George said. "Nah, ended that over Easter."
"Oh," Percy said. "How come?"
"We weren't nearly serious enough to make it work long distance," he shrugged.
Fred snorted. "Don't know how the two of you thought it'd work in the first place."
"Well, she was hot," George grinned. "I thought if I could figure out a way to keep in touch we could have a good time in the holidays."
Ginny bit her fist, turning pink as she tried to hold in her laughter. Percy seemed to be having the opposite issue, but he held his tongue.
"Lighten up, Perce," Fred laughed. "What do you think she saw in George after talking to him for half an hour?"
"That doesn't mean I'm happy about it," Percy said tightly.
"You think me and Fred are happy with everything we see?" George asked.
"You've got to see that not everyone likes the same things."
"Does the same things."
"Say things the same way."
"And you give the people what they want," George finished with a lazy smirk.
"Or if you can't..." Fred added.
"You give them what they need in a way they'll like," George shrugged.
"Turning your nose up at this lout for his dastardly ways won't change him," Fred grinned.
"My dastardly ways?" George asked. "Whose idea was that birthday game of spin the wand?"
"I said nothing of myself, brother mine," Fred chuckled.
'Where's Mum?' Harry asked.
'Out, I guess?' Ginny said. 'I went upstairs the same time you did.'
"I... suppose that makes some sense," Percy frowned. "But what if someone does something wrong?"
"You see, this is why we won't be prefects," Fred said.
"Just... I don't know, take the minor stuff less seriously," George shrugged.
"If people are fighting, knock them both out and drag them up to the headmaster," Fred grinned.
"But you can't bite someone's head off for using a bit of magic in the corridor," said George.
"Look at us, George," Fred laughed. "Advising the enemy."
"I'm..." Percy started.
"There's your first problem, Percy," George said.
"You're so keen to be a good prefect and follow all the rules..."
"You've lost your sense of humour."
Percy sighed. "I know."
"You... what?" George blinked.
"Why do you think I'm talking to you in the first place?" Percy said. "I can't be good at my job if everyone hates me. I didn't even consider the possibility before..."
"Hey, people don't hate you..." George grimaced.
"Yeah, just... find you really annoying," Fred winced.
"Thank you, I feel much better," Percy said drily.
The twins stared at Percy, then at each other, and then back to Percy. Breaking out into identical grins, they shared a resounding high five.
"Daddy's home!" Ginny said, bursting into Harry's room and charging straight back out.
Harry rolled his eyes, putting his quill away and pulling the small suitcase out from under the bed. Though it was only as big as his chest, it had sufficient Undetectable Extension to fit everything he'd need for the weekend. As an afterthought, he put his Potions homework in too. Knowing Hermione...
"Hey, Harry, you ready?" Ginny asked.
"Of course," Harry said. "Doesn't Dad want to relax for a bit after work though?"
"Pfff..." Ginny smirked, rolling her eyes. Her amusement turned into a disbelieving stare, and she Disapparated with a whisper.
Harry shook his head. As powerful as she became, she would always be just a little bit mental. It was one of her many charms. Turning, he found Hedwig staring at the place she'd just disappeared from, too.
"Hey, girl," he smiled. Hedwig stared up at him with her massive eyes. "Have you forgiven me?"
Hedwig averted her eyes, gazing haughtily over his shoulder.
"Aww, come on," Harry grinned. "You're my girl, aren't you? The best owl a boy could ever ask for?"
Hedwig perked up a little at this, giving him a hard stare but meeting his eyes nevertheless. Without warning, she flapped up onto his shoulder. She gave his ear a harder-than-necessary nip, before returning to her perch and hissing at him. He had the distinct impression that she was laughing at him.
"Yeah, yeah, have fun while I'm gone," Harry griped, heading up to see how Ron was doing. Knowing him, he'd only just have started packing.
As ever, walking into his friend and brother's room felt like being punched in the face, or walking into a furnace, or something in between that wasn't really like either.
"Do you have anything that isn't orange, Ron?" Harry laughed.
"My robes," he shrugged. "Nothing wrong with Cannons orange."
"No," Harry said, recalling that the last time the Chudley Cannons had won the league was about a hundred years ago. "Nothing at all. You, err, packed yet?"
"I know what I'm taking, it won't take me long," he shrugged.
"Daddy says he'll be half an hour," Ginny panted.
"Do you just refuse to walk today?" Harry laughed.
"Yes," she said. "Is that a problem?"
"What about when we're at Hermione's?" Ron suggested.
Ginny shrugged apathetically. "See you around!"
"I hate this no magic thing," Harry said.
"Yeah, it's like an itch," Ron agreed.
"I suppose your hyper-thing is done now then?" Harry asked.
Ron grinned and pointed over his shoulder at the one remaining vial. "One more dose of whatever potion and that's it. It's going to be so good to use magi... Oh wait."
They shared a laugh, and started to pack his things. It turned out that Ron did know exactly what he was taking. However, he had no idea where any of it was. By the time they were done, Mr. Weasley was getting the car started again.
Harry and Ron raced downstairs, saying brief goodbyes to everyone while Mrs Weasley fretted about their safety and all the Muggles and whether something might go wrong with the car. Ron just about dodged the Filibuster Firework the twins had clearly planted in the boot. The thunderous explosions gave them a warm send off as Mr. Weasley drove off into the bright summer evening.
"Everyone strapped in tight?" Mr. Weasley asked. He seemed almost to vibrate with happiness as he turned delicately onto the village road.
"Yes, Dad," they all said.
"Good, good..." Mr. Weasley grinned.
He turned out onto a country road, but...
"Err..." Harry said.
"We haven't come this way before, Daddy," Ginny ventured.
"No," he smiled. "We haven't."
Ginny pouted up at him from the front seat. When he noticed, he started laughing.
"Patience, pumpkin."
The car was humming merrily to itself as it carried them up the road. That was when Harry noted another strange thing. There were no other cars on this road.
"Now, not a word to your mother," Mr. Weasley said, putting his foot down a bit. Then he reached out and pressed a small, silver button.
"Dad?" said Ron. Harry felt a bit lost himself. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find a reason why Mrs Weasley would be upset.
"Merlin's pants we're invisible!" Ginny cried.
Harry followed her eyes to the wing mirror. They were indeed one hundred percent invisible.
"One of a few special modifications," Mr. Weasley grinned.
"Dad, don't you work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?" Harry asked, bewildered.
Ron snorted. "Mum always says if Dad raided our house he'd have to arrest himself."
"Which is exactly why she doesn't need to know about that," Mr. Weasley said. "Or this."
He raised the lever on the right of the steering wheel that Harry had assumed would control the windscreen wipers. As it turned out, it was altitude control.
"What," said Harry.
"This is AWESOME!" Ginny grinned, jumping about in her seat.
"We're flying!" Ron said, planting his face against the window.
"I'd rather we got there at a decent hour," Mr. Weasley said modestly.
He put his foot to the floor, and they rocketed away, still rising steadily towards the clouds.
"I did wonder why there was a compass on the dashboard," Harry muttered.
"Due northeast," Mr. Weasley announced. "Do you have the directions, Ginny?"
"Right here," she said, pulling the letter out of her jacket. "She's given instructions for getting there by road from Ottery St. Catchpole though."
"So we follow the road," Mr. Weasley said, slowing to a stop and pointing the bonnet down towards the ground. "Where does she want us to go?"
Luckily, Hermione had done brief illustrations as well, and they soon found their way. Ron pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards and before Harry realised they'd even reached London, Mr. Weasley was looking for a place to put the car down.
"How about that massive... is that a park or something?" Ginny asked.
"Where are we?" said Harry, staring out of the window. It was just starting to get dark outside.
"Richmond?" Ginny said.
"That's Richmond Park," Harry said with amazed certainty. The Dursleys took Dudley here for riding lessons once. Dudley had hated it, to Aunt Petunia's chagrin.
"Wonderful, there's no-one in that car park," Mr. Weasley said, putting them down between two other cars.
They looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention, and Mr. Weasley turned off the invisibility.
"Just over an hour," Mr. Weasley beamed. "We have made tremendous time."
"Err, I'm not really sure where we go from here," Ginny said.
"So we ask, Ginny," said Mr. Weasley. He backed the car slowly out from between the Honda saloon and Mercedes coupe, the gravel crunching under the tires.
The park was truly massive. Harry could see no end to it, only trees and grass and roads and cyclists and trees…
Through a combination of helpful, if not always sure strangers, and Hermione's instructions, they eventually found themselves on Queens Avenue. Harry didn't need the directions to see which of the houses the Grangers' residence was. Hermione's dad wanted everyone to see his pride and joy.
"Is that a car?" Mr. Weasley said.
"Yeah," Harry grinned.
"It's Hermione's dad's car," Ginny added. Harry held back a sigh. This was not going to go well.
As Mr. Weasley pulled up in front of number fifty-seven, Harry noted the security camera monitoring the front of the house. Proud, but not careless. In fact, Harry barely noticed the camera amongst the vines, which grew over the face of the house through a warm chestnut wooden trellis. In all, the effect was that the large house was well cared for, though ironically it did not have the clinical feel of Privet Drive.
Ginny bolted out of the car to go and knock on the front door.
"She was serious," Ron muttered.
By the time they took their things from the boot, the Grangers were all at the door.
"... got here by car, then?" Mr. Granger said.
"Were they supposed to walk?" Mrs Granger laughed. "Please, come in."
"Have you got everything you'll need?" Mr. Granger frowned, looking at their small suitcases. His wife shut the door behind them, while Hermione led Ginny ahead of them.
"Bigger on the inside, sir," Harry explained.
Mr. Granger stared at him for a moment.
"Excuse him, Harry, he's a bit of a Doctor Who nut," Mrs Granger sighed.
"You hypocrite," Hermione's father laughed.
"Sorry, we never really introduced ourselves before, did we?" Mrs Granger said, turning to Mr Weasley. "I'm Sarah, and this is Alistair."
"Arthur Weasley," Mr. Weasley said, kissing the back of her hand. "At your service."
Hermione's mum giggled, turning her husband an amused look. "Oh my, that's..."
"Not something you see every day," Mr. Granger grinned. "Come into the living room, won't you, Arthur? Would you like tea? Coffee?"
"Tea please," Arthur said. "Milk and one sugar."
"Kids, why don't you go up to Hermione's room?" Mrs Granger said. "I'm sure you have lots to catch up on."
"Would you guys like some juice or water or something?" Hermione asked.
Hermione's house was just as pleasant on the inside. The shag pile carpets massaged his feet even through his socks, which combined with the warm cream of the walls to provide a very comforting feel. He told her so, and she grinned bashfully.
"Thanks, Ginny was saying that as well," she said. "It is a really nice place, yeah."
There was absolutely no doubt in Harry's mind that the room they'd been led into was Hermione's.
The light fitting was no simple bulb and shade affair, oh no. It was a massive representation of the sun, with the planets orbiting around it. A persistent hum that Harry was sure he'd heard before Hermione even opened the door permeated the room, and Harry was sure it was coming from the astronomical display. The walls were sparsely decorated, with one poster of Carl Sagan and another, much larger poster of 'the human machine' on the opposite wall detailing bones and muscles.
"Wow," said Harry.
Hermione blushed. "I..."
"Merlin's pants!" Ginny said. "Are they in sync?"
"Yeah," Hermione grinned. "Dad made it for my tenth birthday."
"He made this for you?" Ginny gasped. "Without magic?"
"Yeah," Hermione muttered, blushing right down to her chest.
"Um... How?" Ginny said.
"Well, all the planets up to Neptune have little arms attached to the centre, see?" Hermione said.
She indicated the eight metal rods protruding from the heavy construct holding up the 'sun'. Each one bent from the horizontal to enter its respective planet at a particular angle.
"There's a set of electric motors in that bit in the middle that drive them around their orbits," she explained. "And there's a little motor in each planet that spins it on its orbit."
"What about Pluto?" said Ginny.
"I didn't get that at first either," Hermione said excitedly. "There's actually a little track in my ceiling. Do you see it?"
It was hard through the light of the sun, but Harry saw it.
"Okay, so there's a little motor in that making it move around..." Ginny said. "But what's... Oh my stars is that what I think it is?"
"Yes, it is," Hermione grinned.
"Some of us aren't quite keeping up," Ron said.
"Oh, lighten up, Ron," Ginny snorted. "Besides, look at Pluto!"
Pluto was barely even moving. Ginny rolled her eyes at them.
"It's got a motor on its little arm thingy, look," she said. "It's moving up and down as it goes, like its real orbit! Hermione that's incredible!"
"Yeah, it is," she said, grinning at the floor and continuing to burn with embarrassment.
"Is that the moon?!"
"I see you're entertaining yourselves," Mrs Granger smiled. Harry was beginning to think she just always sounded exasperated.
Ron was happily picking apart a model of a plant cell, one of a small collection of rather large constructions. Ginny was contentedly stretched out on Hermione's bed. Her eyes flicked from one rapidly spinning planet to the next as she stared up at the rotating solar system. Sitting with Hermione at her desk, Harry was trying desperately to keep up as she explained her little summer project to him. She'd been making notes about their work in Potions class all year, trying to document things like in her chemistry textbook, with the help of a few texts Madam Pince had somehow allowed her to keep over the holidays.
"Yeah, thanks, Mum," Hermione said.
"We'll be having dinner in an hour or so," Mrs Granger warned, "so don't get too carried away."
Ron perked up instantly at the mention of food.
"We'll curb Hermione's enthusiasm," said Ginny, finally tearing her eyes away from the massive, motorised mobile to shoot a smirk at her friend.
"Just as long as you don't set fire to anything, hmm?" Hermione replied.
"I'll leave you kids to it," Mrs Granger chuckled.
"Anyway, it's all so very difficult because Potions ingredients are very complex substances," Hermione continued. "It's not like I can work out enthalpy of formation of a unicorn horn, and all these Potions texts do is rail on about various preparation methods. So I've just been trying to figure out exactly how everything reacts with everything else and work from there..."
Harry looked at the maps, notes and equations, back up at Hermione's flushed, impassioned face and gave her an understanding and compassionate open mouthed stare.
His stomach quietly reminding him of what his priorities should be, Harry let Mrs Granger put a copious amount of shepherd's pie on his plate. It wasn't as much as Ron had taken, of course. Hermione's parents were quite impressed to find his appetite just as large as Hermione had evidently told them.
"Hermione tells us you're quite the talented young sorceress, Ginny," Mr. Granger said, his eyes dancing with the near-childlike excitement Harry remembered from King's Cross.
Ginny blushed brightly. "I'm pretty good, yeah," she squeaked.
"Oh Alistair, leave her alone," Mrs Granger grinned.
Mr. Weasley tried to hide his own smile behind his hand, but it wasn't working particularly well.
"Go on, just one trick," Hermione's father pressed.
"I... I can't do magic over the holidays!" said Ginny, seizing onto the idea like a buoy in the surging tide.
"Because you pay attention to that one at home," Ron snorted.
Ginny shot him a wounded look.
"Actually," Harry muttered, "why don't you get in trouble for that?"
"I..." Ginny paused, looking over at her father.
"Ginny is right, I'm afraid," Mr. Weasley sighed. "If she set off the Underage Magic Detectors, Hermione would get the initial blame. We'd have to go to the Ministry to sort it out."
"Damn," Mr. Granger smiled. "I would've loved to see some magic."
"You'll see it in abundance when you come to the Burrow, or Longbottom Manor," said Mr. Weasley.
"Why don't you tell us about what it's like at Hogwarts, and how you've used magic," Hermione's mum asked.
Ginny, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the storyteller. Even less surprising was the distinct lack of trolls, dragons and dark lords amongst her tales. She did sprinkle in a few Slytherin encounters though. The look of pride on her parents' faces when Ginny recounted Hermione's intervention via Immobilising Jinx on the train turned Hermione a violent shade of red, and Harry was almost certain she'd choose that moment to run and hide somewhere.
By the time Ron had finished eating, all light had faded from the sky. Hermione and her mother took the plates to the kitchen, and everyone followed the two fathers out into the hallway.
"I really must be going," Mr. Weasley said, stepping out of the front door. "Thank you again for the drinks and meal."
"It was a pleasure," said Mr. Granger.
"Hey, when's Neville getting here?" Harry whispered.
"Tomorrow morning, I think," Hermione replied. "I think his grandmother's Apparating him here."
"Your parents know how that works, right?" said Ginny.
"Of course," Hermione smiled. "I'm not you."
"You little..." Ginny began.
"See you Sunday evening, kids," Mr. Weasley called.
"Bye, Dad!"
"Bye, Mr. Weasley!"
In the pitch black night, you would have needed to know what to look for if you were to notice the old blue Anglia slip out of visibility. There was only a quiet rumble to let them know he'd taken off, fading into the night.
"So," said Mr. Granger.
"Let's sort out where you're sleeping," Hermione's mum smiled, shutting the door. "And please, Ginny, don't set fire to anything."
'Mmm...' Ginny's lips were so soft against his as they soared over Hogwarts. The rushing wind tickled at his hands. Ginny began to scratch at his face...
"Ginny?" he muttered against her lips. The scratching stopped. Then she was kissing all over his face. He put his hand in her hair and brought her lips back to his with a satisfied sigh...
"Eek!"
Harry's eyes shot open, his heart thumping thunderously as the adrenaline shocked him into full consciousness. Consciousness of his hand being full of bushy brown hair. Hermione was staring at him with terrified eyes.
"What in the..." he began. Hermione squeaked, jumping to her feet and bolting from the room, a feather duster flying out of her hand.
Ginny, just about standing off to his right, was in danger of wetting herself.
"Oh, Morgana, that was perfect!" she wheezed, pointing an unsteady arm at him.
That was when Harry noticed the can of shaving foam discarded by his side, and the strange, slight weight on his face. Not to mention that some of the stuff was on his cheek and over his left eye. His heart, realising that Harry wasn't currently fighting for his life, began to ache in his chest as it relaxed its frantic pace. Harry groaned and flopped back onto the travel mattress Mum had enchanted for him. They'd pranked him. Not that it had gone exactly to plan.
"Oh Jesus," Harry despaired. "I kissed Hermione!"
Ginny howled with laughter. "Don't... worry... You were... saying... my... name!"
Harry groaned again, covering his face with his hands. He'd momentarily forgotten about the foam, which now completely covered his face.. Incapable of words, he left Ginny to a slowly waking Ron in search of the bathroom.
Someone snorted behind him. Wheeling around, Harry found Mrs Granger in a black, silken dressing gown, with her hand over her mouth. He consciously set that as his eyes' lower limit and gritted his teeth.
"Got you good, didn't she?" she said, voice strained with the effort of not laughing.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "I reckon I've already gotten her back."
"I'm sorry, Harry," she sniggered. "Bathroom is that one over there."
"Thanks, Mrs Granger," Harry said, hurrying in that direction.
As he looked in the mirror, the reality of what had just happened crashed over him. Absently, he traced a finger over his lips.
"What on Earth..." he muttered. He was going to need to talk to her. For the moment, he appreciated their handiwork. His face was half covered, and it was all thanks to his own hand.
He washed it off, and headed back to his room to change out of his pyjamas. Ginny had apparently already gone with Ron down to breakfast.
"Morning," Harry said, dragging himself into a chair.
Everyone else replied in kind, although Hermione was blushing and staring down at her bowl.
"Now Hermione," her father said, "shall we find out why we're having breakfast at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning?"
"It was just a little prank," she muttered.
"And not only did you wake everyone in the house up with your shrieking, not even considering the neighbours..." Mr. Granger sighed. "On top of that, you used my shaving cream."
Mrs Granger gave her husband the universal 'are-you-actually-stupid' look.
"Now I don't mind you kids enjoying yourselves," he went on, "but if you're going to make such a racket, do it at a decent hour. Understood?"
"Yes Dad."
"Yes sir."
"Yes, Mr. Granger."
"Good," he smiled. "Now when is this Neville boy turning up?"
Harry felt a foot touch his.
'Hey,' Ginny said.
'Hey,' Harry grinned. 'Err... Is she okay?'
'Why Harry?' Ginny smirked. 'Ready for another round?'
'Oh I am going to get you,' said Harry.
'You're going to try,' Ginny laughed. 'Seriously though, she's panicking a little, and I can't calm her down any more.'
'Dammit, it was just a kiss,' Harry griped.
'Her first kiss,' Ginny amended.
'Oh,' said Harry.
'Yeah,' Ginny agreed. 'Oh.'
They ate their cereal in silence apart from Hermione's parents, who did their level best to keep conversation going. Hermione looked up only to shoot quick, guilty glances at Harry before staring back down at her cornflakes.
He toyed with the bit of milk at the bottom of his bowl listlessly, waiting. To his relief, Hermione didn't take long, hurrying off to the kitchen and running upstairs. Harry waited until he was sure she was in her room before going to deposit his own plate. He reached out to turn the tap on, only to find a hand on his arm. Mrs Granger.
"What's going on, Harry?" she asked quietly.
"I'm sorry?" he replied, cursing the squeak in his voice. He was pleased by the way it was deepening, but these periodic malfunctions were beginning to grate on his nerves.
"You know what I'm talking about," Mrs Granger chided. "Why is my daughter so upset?"
"It's my fault," Harry sighed.
"Go on," she pressed.
Harry tried to let his arm drop, but she held it firm. A gulp forced its way down his throat. "I was asleep, and in my dream, I was... Anyway, she was there doing whatever with the shaving cream and the feather duster, and I..."
"Tell. Me."
"I kissed her," Harry whispered, looking at his shoes.
Mrs Granger withdrew her hand to rest her head in it. "Aren't you going out with Ginny?"
"I didn't mean to kiss her!" Harry hissed frantically. "I mean, it's not that I wouldn't, I mean, she's pretty and smart and she's got a mean streak that's a lot of fun, but..."
"Harry," Mrs Granger interrupted. "Calm down."
Harry stared at her. Taking a deep breath, he leaned heavily against the sink.
"Good," she smiled. "Now go up there and talk to her. If she isn't bouncing down the stairs on the way back down, you'll pay for it, understand?"
Harry felt the panic overtaking him again.
"Such a sweet, silly boy," Mrs Granger sighed. "Go on."
Hurrying up the stairs, Harry found Hermione's door closed. There was a fear gripping him like no other. Surely the shut door meant she didn't want to be bothered? Every excuse not to go in raced through his mind, but he bit his tongue, and knocked.
"Who is it?" Hermione asked.
'Was that a sniffle?' Harry thought wildly. 'Is she crying?'
"Harry," he told her. He sounded far braver than he felt. It might have been a good idea to go to the toilet first. Why wasn't she saying anything? Maybe she thought he'd just go away if...
"Okay," Hermione said.
Harry found her sitting at her desk, flipping aimlessly through her Potions notes.
"Hey," said Harry. He didn't sound quite so brave anymore. 'Dammit.'
She smiled weakly, schooled her features, and then snorted. Harry stared at her, wondering if she needed a doctor. When she looked up at him, her eyes did seem oddly bright.
"I, err..." she began. "Sorry."
"No, it was my fault," Harry said. "I think. I wasn't very..."
"Conscious?" Hermione snorted.
"Yeah," Harry muttered.
Hermione cast aside the countless sheets of paper and stared at the wall instead. "Look, I know you didn't mean to..."
"Hermione..." Harry said, putting a hand behind her shoulder. She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. "Why is this so hard? I was having a dream. I was-"
"I know," Hermione cut in.
Harry sighed heavily, sinking into the chair next to her. "Listen, if I was going to kiss someone and it wasn't Ginny..."
Her breath caught, her eyes widening as she stared at the table.
"I'd want it to be you," said Harry. "I'm just sorry your first kiss couldn't have been more special."
Hermione jumped on him, hugging him fiercely. "You're not mad at me, Harry?"
"Why would I be?" Harry asked.
She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "If I hadn't tried to play that stupid joke on you..."
"I wouldn't have grabbed you and kissed you?"
"No, I..." Hermione muttered. "Anyway, even if it wasn't the romantic thing I'd hoped for, I'm happy that it was with you."
"Well, I guess that's cool then," Harry said awkwardly. Hermione seemed to notice why, and scrambled off him. "We're cool, right?"
Hermione turned away again. "We're friends. We always will be."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
"Harry! Hermione! Neville's here!"
Harry jumped to his feet, racing for the door. Turning to grin briefly at a slower Hermione, he shot out in pursuit of his friend.
Neville was indeed standing in the downstairs hallway with his grandmother. He grinned up at Harry while his grandmother talked to Hermione's parents, Mr. Granger seeming particularly excited about the Apparition.
"Hi, Harry," Neville said, grabbing his arm. He was dressed passably in Muggle clothes, which displayed his continued physical development.
Harry grabbed Neville's in turn, in a sort of unfamiliar variant on a handshake, before leading him over to the kitchen where his siblings had just finished up. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm great, y-" Neville stopped with a grunt as Ginny slammed into him. "Um, hi, Ginny."
"Hey," she said, letting go of him. "How's your leg?"
Neville shook it out and looked critically at it. "Much better, thanks. It's basically back to normal, I suppose I'm still just a little bit freaked out."
"No kidding," Ginny said sympathetically.
"Hey, mate," Ron grinned. "Not gonna do some dramatic limping back at school? Try and get some, uh, sympathy?"
They snorted with laughter.
Neville burned bright red. "No, I don't think so. How have you guys been?"
"Okay."
"Pretty good, yeah."
"Hey, Neville," Hermione smiled.
Still quite pink in the face, Neville turned. "Hi."
They seemed to consider for a moment, before embracing each other briefly.
"Neville?" his grandmother called. "I am leaving."
Neville led them back out into the hall, where he gave Mrs Longbottom a quick hug. She nodded to them, and Disapparated with a crack.
"So, Neville, you never got to see Hermione's dad's car, did you?" Ginny grinned.
Mr. Granger's eyes lit up, and his wife clearly noticed. "No, you are not going to go tearing around the streets at eight thirty on a Saturday."
"I'm just going to show him," Mr. Granger said. "I'll take them down to the old estate in the afternoon."
"Alistair..." Hermione's mother sighed.
"Come on then, Neville," the tall man said, pulling on his shoes and opening the door.
Harry waited for Neville's tour to finish before bringing up the topic he'd been waiting for this moment to share with him and Hermione. "Guys, there's something I need to talk to you about."
"Harry got a... visitor the other day," Ginny said.
"A house-elf," Harry said.
Hermione frowned. "That rings a bell, but I don't know..."
"They're..." Neville began, but stopped, turning red.
"Slaves," Ginny said.
Hermione looked around sharply. "I'm sorry, what?"
"They're a small people," Neville said, still blushing deeply. "About this high. They serve wizards."
"Not just slaves..." Hermione muttered. "An entire enslaved race?"
Neville averted his eyes. "Yes. I don't know when or why or how, but that's how it is."
"They, uh, tend to belong to wealthier wizarding families," Ron added. "Mum's always saying how she wished we had one to help with pressing our clothes."
Hermione glared at him. "I suppose another person's freedom is small price to pay for the convenience of having your clothes clean and ironed for you in the morning."
"Hey, I said Mum said it, not me!" Ron protested.
"Hermione..." Ginny said placatingly.
"No!" said Hermione. "I won't stand for this abuse!"
"What are you talking about?" Neville frowned.
"Oh, don't tell me, you're going back to your own slaves tomorrow evening?" Hermione scowled.
"Tilly and Mitzi are not slaves!" Neville insisted. "They're my friends!"
"Shut up, all of you!" Harry said.
Hermione glared up at him.
"You call yourself a scientist, Hermione?" Harry said, his voice lower but still annoyed. "You've asked no questions, haven't waited for all the facts, just fly off the handle because you've heard the word 'slave'."
Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Neville's hurt expression, before looking at Harry with slightly less venom. "Wouldn't you?"
"I'm not happy about it," Harry said. "But we're your friends, Hermione. You know us. Do you think we'd support slavery?"
Now she looked positively ashamed. "Fine, I'm sorry for turning on you like that. But will you please explain this to me?"
"Probably best if you take this one, Neville," Harry muttered.
"You tell her about it," Neville said, looking away. Hermione winced, but bit her lip and didn't say anything.
"Hermione, house-elves are really happy about the way they are," Harry said. "It's a little disturbing actually."
"You mean you've met some?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, quite a few. They... take pride in their work. Anyway, they supposedly need to be bound to a wizard family to survive. I was going to try and find out if it was some kind of curse."
"It's a kind of blood magic," Neville said. "I don't know what started it, but they don't get sustenance from food and water, they get it from their family's magic."
"So if someone frees their elf, and the elf can't find another family to take them..." Ginny said.
"How?!" Hermione cried.
"We don't know, Hermione," said Neville. "Nobody knows. But that's the way it is, and we can only make the best of a crappy situation."
Hermione put her head in her hands, breathing deeply. Harry turned to give the others an uncertain look, but Hermione chose that moment to sit up straight once more. "I can't accept this. I won't."
Ron shrugged, picking at his trousers.
"So what will you do?" said Harry.
Hermione glowered at her hands. "I don't know! But I'll figure it out."
Ginny pulled her into a hug, whispering something in her ear. Hermione nodded distractedly.
"Well, uh..." Neville tried. On meeting no resistance, he went on. "What did the house-elf want, Harry?"
"I don't know," Harry griped. "He disappeared before he could tell me."
"Just start from the beginning," said Hermione.
So he did. He recounted every detail of the evening that he still could recall, from the little elf's appearance to the Patronus messages.
"Best keep an eye out," Neville said.
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Just wanted to let you guys know, you know, in case he turns up or tries anything with you. Don't know why he'd try to intercept Hedwig..."
"That's the strangest thing..." Hermione frowned. "He didn't mean you harm, but he turns up in your bedroom unannounced and tries to tamper with your mail. He's behaving so very... suspiciously."
"Well, I suppose the next time he turns up I'll have to find out what the hell he wants," Harry sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
"In the meantime, tell us about your project, Neville!" Ginny urged. "You've been keeping really quiet about it."
Neville scratched at his neck awkwardly. "Well, I managed with the shrivelfig Professor Sprout gave me to start off with, so she's given me the Asphodel seeds she promised me, and some Aconite."
They cheered him raucously, galvanised to excess by how much he looked like he wanted to hide his head. Ron gave him a brief punch to the shoulder, to which Neville grinned bashfully.
"Yeah, they've already germinated," Neville continued. "This particular variety of Asphodel is kind of... entropic."
Ginny stared at him. "You're joking!"
"Entropic?" Hermione asked. "You mean it causes chaos?"
"What?" Ron frowned.
"Entropy..." Hermione said, blushing. "It's the tendency of all things to exist in a disordered state."
"Wizards take a different meaning," Neville explained. "For us, entropy means... well, it means feeding on death, or on life energies so as to cause death."
Hermione's expression turned incredulous. "Are you saying you're making blood sacrifices to a plant?"
"Well, not really sacrifices," Neville grimaced. "I mean, it's not ritualistic, just..."
"Oh, Neville, that's horrible," Ginny whispered.
"Hermione, you pay more attention in Potions than us," Neville said. Hermione was deep in thought though.
"I've seen loads of references to entropy in Potions..." she muttered. "I thought they meant thermodynamic entropy, not... this. What do you... do?"
"The plant only awakens when something dies nearby," Neville explained. "I used a slug. After that, its entropic power increases so it can actively steal life energy from greater and greater distances around it. I, uh… have to grow it in isolation."
"But what about you?" Hermione cried. "Won't it steal your energy?"
"Warded clothes," Neville smirked. "Dragonhide gloves are enough at school, because they don't allow anyone other than professors and NEWT students near the awakened entropic plants. I've got a full protective suit."
"Sweet," Ron grinned. "You reckon she'll let you into those restricted greenhouses ,then?"
"I don't know," Neville said, shrugging. "Guess I'll have to ask."
"You're going to get so much extra credit," Hermione groaned.
Neville grinned at her. "Not jealous are we, Hermione?"
"Of course not," she said. "I make that much back just by staying awake in History of Magic."
"Or you would if Binns noticed he even had a class in the room," Harry pointed out.
"How is he even still teaching?" Ron laughed.
"Teaching's a stretch, Ron," Ginny smirked.
"Do you reckon he ever talks to the other teachers?" said Neville.
Hermione chuckled suddenly. "The meetings must be interesting."
"And Professor Binns," Ginny ground out, her voice scratching and bottoming out as she tried to imitate Professor Dumbledore, "do you have anything to say about the class schedule?"
Ron and Neville had already lost it by this point, while Hermione was torn between amusement and her unwillingness to poke fun at such a respected figure.
"Professor Binns?" Harry asked in Professor McGonagall's sharp voice. "Professor Binns, are you with us?"
"Well, obviously not," Neville drawled, sneering in a very Snape-like way, though the effect was broken by his intermittent bursts of laughter. "The late professor has not been with us for a great many years, Professor McGonagall. Although I'm sure Potter has something to do with his current state. Potter's always up to something. Potter, Potter, Potter..."
Harry snorted, trying to control himself for another go, but he couldn't hold it in.
"Are you lot going to go and wash yourselves or are you going to sit around in your pyjamas all day?" Mrs Granger called.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're used to the boys smelling, Mum."
"Hey!" Ron cried indignantly.
Harry only grinned. "Thanks, Hermione."
"I'm just telling it how it is," she said, though her lips were twitching.
"All boys smell, but tell them if they don't shower I'll have at them with air freshener and hairspray until we can't tell," Mrs Granger called back.
Hermione laughed. "Okay, go on, you heard Mum. Have you all got towels and things?"
Harry took more time to appreciate what Mr. Granger had created now that he was being taken for a ride in it. The interior didn't have the outrageous quality of the body kit — in fact it seemed to be the standard set up. But Hermione's father made absolutely clear once they reached the abandoned industrial estate's car park that this was no tame family car.
"Bloody hell!" Ron yelled, as the car emitted an angry roar. From the back seat, the exhaust note was quite definitely audible. They'd left Hermione with Mrs Granger back at the house, as there was no room, and apparently neither wanted to be within hearing range. As they accelerated towards a lamppost, Harry realised why.
With practised ease, Mr. Granger turned away from the obstacle, flicking the gear shift down to second and turning in hard towards the innocent metal pole, the engine howling eagerly with the turbo whistling faintly in the background. The tachometer needle was hammering away in the redzone as if trying to shake itself loose. Just as the weight shifted, he tugged the handbrake up before slamming it straight back down again. And the car slid gracefully around the lamppost, nose almost kissing it as they passed the apex of the turn. Mr. Granger's foot pulsed on the accelerator pedal, the steering wheel held securely in opposition to the turn as the tyres screamed in protest.
Harry turned to look out through the tinted window. The strange sight of the ground moving towards him quirked his already grinning lips. On his other side, Ginny was being pressed tightly into him by the force of the turn, whooping and shrieking her delight. Mr. Granger let go of the steering wheel, and it began frantically spinning back as the slide drew to a close. A mist of white smoke was rising through the window on the passenger side, but Harry had little time to appreciate it as the suspension rebounded, throwing them all to the left and back into their seats as they leapt away from the corner. As the car found its feet, Mr. Granger upshifted smoothly, the turbocharger letting out a distinctive whoosh.
"Merlin's sagging ballsack!"
"Ginny!" Neville laughed.
Harry laughed with him, noting that Ron and Ginny just looked stunned. "That was incredible," he chuckled.
Hermione's dad grinned at him through the rear-view mirror. "It only gets better."
Slamming violently on the pedals, he turned the car into a wide, sideways arc that carried them around the whole side of the car park at a blistering pace. Thick smoke obscured the window on Ron's side, and the turbo kept whooshing and whistling as Mr. Granger toyed with the accelerator, keeping them going and going and going... Ginny was yelling, Ron was yelling, Harry was yelling, Neville was yelling, and the car just kept on sliding. Eventually though, the drift ended, and Mr. Granger downshifted again, turning the car into a slide in the opposite direction - one that put Neville in the path of an oncoming lamppost.
"Mr. Granger, there's-!"
Whoosh.
The engine's roar re-established itself as the car turned, violently, swinging around the lamppost and sliding towards the next one. Mr. Granger continued this terrifying slalom until Harry thought Neville would be sick. For his part, Harry would never consider this above flying, but he couldn't name many things that were more exhilarating. He could only imagine what it was like to be behind the wheel.
By the time they were done, the asphalt was covered with even more black lines than before, and there was a fine smoke rising from what seemed to be the whole park.
"So..." Mr. Granger said, sweating slightly and breathing hard. Not that any of them were a convincing shade of calm. "What do you think?"
"That was AWESOME!" Ginny blurted.
"I'm just glad Ginny didn't catch fire," Neville muttered.
"That's a thing you do?" Mr. Granger said, snapping around to look at her.
Ginny shrugged, sporting a blissful, carefree grin. "I'm keeping it under control, sir, don't worry."
"Good," Mr. Granger sighed, relaxing back into his seat. "A normal car detonating is bad enough."
"Detonating?" Neville repeated.
"Cars work through a system of controlled explosions," Ginny explained. "So if you explode all the fuel at once, it'll be bad."
"You're pretty well up on everything since that encyclopaedia, huh?" Harry grinned.
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Amused, Harry poked her in the side, making her squirm and shriek.
"Aah! Harry!" she cried, grabbing his arms and trying to push him off, to no avail.
"Let's get back," Mr. Granger grinned. "Sarah's got plans."
The drive back was as quick as it was noisy. Mr. Granger turned on the radio, and they enjoyed the twenty minutes of mindless raving. Hermione's dad only observed their antics with growing mirth.
The sun was still high in the sky when they reached Queens Avenue, and several of the Grangers' neighbours were mowing their front lawns. They all looked up at the sound of the unsated exhaust pipes, and returned to their business with disapproving looks or tired smiles. For while Queens Avenue was not the rigid, prim affair that was Privet Drive, the modified 535 was an obscenity on wheels. It was a very elegant obscenity, but an obscenity nonetheless.
"Go on," Hermione sighed as she opened the door. "Vent your feelings."
Harry, Ron and Ginny were just about to, but Mr. Granger stepped forward. "Now Hermione, is that any way to greet your father?"
She blushed bright red, giving him a brief hug. Rather than let Hermione go, however, he carried her into the house, ignoring her loud protests. Hermione buried her head in her dad's shoulder to avoid their smirks. They shut the door behind them and followed him through to the kitchen, where Mrs Granger was waiting with a frown.
"Did you enjoy yourselves?" Mrs Granger asked, though her lips twitched.
The expected, honest and unequivocal answer made her smile and sigh in equal measure.
"Well, I suppose your particular brand of madness has some entertainment quality, Al," she said. "Causes its fair share of heart attacks, but still... entertaining."
"You think I do it for the tyre bills?" he grinned, pulling a bottle of Fuller's out of the fridge.
Apparently Mrs Granger was giving up for the moment, as she turned back to them. Specifically, she looked to Ginny, and with a warm smile. "Would you like to come with me and Hermione on a little shopping trip, Ginny? Just us girls."
Ginny looked at her for a moment, turning slightly pink, before grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him over to the side.
"I have a few sickles from Christmas," she said urgently. "If I give you that, do you have some Muggle money?"
"I didn't bring any," Harry confessed. He hadn't expected much more than sitting around chatting, and maybe visiting a park. Not that Hermione's garden wasn't pleasant or big enough.
"Drat," Ginny muttered.
"Err, was it something I said?" Mrs Granger asked, only half-serious.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Granger," Ginny said, contrite. "I don't have any money."
Hermione's mother looked almost relieved. "Ginny, you're ten. I'm paying."
Ron and Ginny both seemed distressed by this development, and everyone noticed.
"Honestly, it isn't a problem," she sighed. Her husband put a hand on her shoulder.
"Look, kids, we're not going to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable," Mr. Granger said. "We already discussed this with your father, although it probably would've been an idea to make sure you knew about it. If you don't want to go, Ginny, you don't have to."
Ginny bit her lip, visibly torn.
"You can just come along, and decide later," Mrs Granger offered. "We'll be taking the Astra, so you can see how civilised human beings drive."
"And how women park," Mr. Granger smirked.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" his wife challenged, a dangerous glint in her eye.
"Funny, I heard something too," the lanky man said, looking around.
Mrs Granger grinned. "That's what I thought."
She shooed the girls to the hallway, snagging a set of keys from the tabletop. They followed, and not two minutes later the baby blue hatchback was pulling out of the driveway, the garage door closing behind it. Hermione and Ginny gave them a little wave as they went.
"So what do we fancy doing?" Mr. Granger asked, shutting the door. The sound of the girls driving off faded away, and Harry felt his awareness of Ginny's emotions slowly become more uncertain.
He looked at Neville and Ron, who both shrugged. To be fair, Harry couldn't think what he wanted to do himself.
"Is there anything good in the cinema, sir?" Ron asked.
The dentist smiled wanly. "Sarah's not going to shut up about this... Oh why not. Let's go and watch Batman."
Harry let his mind wander as they rolled out in Mr. Granger's car. It seemed that although it was the metal embodiment of rage, the BMW could behave itself if treated very delicately. People still stared of course. Nothing short of an enchantment could make the thing subtle now.
This wasn't what his thoughts were concerned with, however. He wasn't even thinking about Dobby, or the multitude of reasons the house-elf might have had for turning up in his bedroom. Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about Hermione.
Ever since the kiss they'd shared that morning, she'd been avoiding his eyes. She wouldn't spontaneously engage with him at all, as if she were passively ignoring him. It wasn't that she was being hostile, just behaving strangely, and Harry found it surprisingly hurtful. He'd thought that after they'd talked about it there wouldn't be any issues.
Harry barely noticed their journey. One moment they were pulling out of Queens Avenue, and the next Mr. Granger was parking the car. The movie pulled him out of his funk for a couple of hours, but once they were back in the car, he felt his good mood begin to subside.
"Harry," Neville muttered. They were eating spaghetti bolognese in front of the Grangers' large screen television, waiting for the women to return. "What's wrong?"
'I accidentally made out with Hermione, and while Ginny finds it really bloody funny, Hermione's got the hump. Maybe my breath was really bad this morning.'
"Nothing," Harry replied.
Neville grunted. "Right."
Harry sighed, but ignored it. This didn't need to get any more complicated.
A whirring, grinding sound alerted them that the garage door was opening. The girls were back. Sure enough, a few minutes later Ginny was snuggled in beside him on the sofa, tired but content. Harry turned an amused look on her, but her narrowed eyes warned him against prodding her about it. He couldn't understand why the Weasleys were so odd about money, but he would respect their wishes. At least from now on.
"How was your evening?" she whispered.
"Watched a movie with some good explosions," Harry shrugged with a grin. "You?"
"I didn't realise Muggles sold so many clothes," Ginny sniggered.
"Dammit," Harry groaned.
Ginny's eyebrow shot up. "What now?"
"I owe Neville a sickle," said Harry. "I thought you'd be going through all the bookstores."
Ginny laughed aloud, drawing strange looks from the others. Apparently, the conversations had gone down rather different paths.
"Well, I'm sure Hermione wanted to, I mean, she gave the library this longing look..." Ginny snorted.
"My relationship with books is entirely platonic, I assure you," Hermione sniffed.
"You should probably have a long talk with Hogwarts: A History, then," Ginny grinned, "I think you're leading it on."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny, but even her parents were stifling chuckles.
"My little girl's future is almost as bright as she is," Mr. Granger said fondly. Hermione turned a bright pink. "But the future of any man who gets between her and a hardback is likely to be the hospital."
"Dad!"
When it came time on Sunday evening for them to leave, Harry felt a horrific wrench in his gut. It was like leaving Hogwarts all over again. Was this what happened when you were given things to enjoy, and to love? That eventually you have to suffer the pain of losing it? But he wasn't losing. He was going back to the Burrow, and he'd see Hermione and Neville soon enough anyway. The only way he could lose was if Voldemort… But he wouldn't. Harry wouldn't let him. Ever.