Harry had been working out for about a half hour when the sun finally breached the wall of clouds overhead. He'd tried every piece of equipment at some point until he found the pieces he was most comfortable with, and the ones that gave him the greatest challenge. When the sun finally broke free of it's prison, he was doing hanging sit-ups on the lower bar beside the one he'd started on. The sky and surroundings tilted dangerously as he forced his body up and down in swift, smooth motions. He'd lost count somewhere around twenty, but when he thought he might've reached fifty, he let himself hang upside down for a minute to catch his breath. As his breathing regulated, he watched the upside-down world around him. The sun shone brightly, and the mingled wild flowers in the grass seemed to be reaching for it's summer warmth. When he thought he could, he rose up one more time and grabbed the bar to get himself down. He was still trying to get his leg free when something caught his attention across the grass. His sweaty palm slipped as he froze, and he fell to the grass in astonishment. He quickly scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to his friend.
"Hermione!" He sat down on the bench beside her, staring after what had caught his eye.
The girl wrinkled her nose as she handed him his shirt, not looking up from her book. "You smell sweaty." She commented.
Harry smirked. "S'what happens. But, look, is that Snape?"
Hermione still didn't look up. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry."
"I'm serious, I think that's him."
With a sigh of aggravation, the bushy brunette looked up and around. "I don't see anybody. Who're you talking about?"
Harry gestured across the grass at a man walking the path no more than a hundred yards from them, just drawing even with bench. "Just there."
Hermione squinted at the distant figure. "I dunno, Harry. I suppose it does look a lot like Snape, but I doubt it is. I'd know if I lived that close to a teacher."
"What if it is? I can't really tell from here," Harry argued, shading his eyes.
"Leave it alone, Harry. Go back to your workout, and let me finish my chapter. We've still got a couple hours before we should head back for lunch," Hermione commanded lightly, lifting her book again.
"But, Hermione-"
"Leave it alone," The girl repeated. "Even if it was Snape, which I highly doubt, what would you say to him? It's not like you two are the best of friends. You hate each other, and I doubt that would change even in the Muggle World."
Harry shrugged. "I guess that's true. S'just weird, seeing a teacher doing something so…normal."
"Even weirder that there's a Muggle who looks so much like Snape," Hermione said teasingly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I get it, it's probably not him." He lifted his shirt and mopped at the sweat on his torso. "I'm definitely going to need a shower when we get back." He got up, leaving his shirt where he'd sat down, and stretched. His muscles were nowhere near exhausted yet, but he could tell it would take the rest of the summer to get back to where he had been before Wood had left and taken his training regimen with him. He moved back towards the gleaming metal equipment, but caught himself watching the familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. Hermione seemed certain it couldn't be Snape, but Harry wasn't as convinced. Stranger things had happened, and he was starting to realize just how small the world really was.
His curiosity continued to nag at him through the rest of his workout, even though he didn't see the might-be Snape again after he'd passed out of sight behind some trees. Even as they walked back to Hermione's house, his friend moaning the whole way about her feet coming off at the hinges, he found his mind drifting to the familiar stranger. Why was it so important, that the man be Snape? Hermione was right, they were enemies of a sort, so why wouldn't it leave him alone? It seemed such a small thing to be focusing on.
They spent the rest of the day studying, and managed to finish most of their homework. Harry cooked dinner later, just for something to do that didn't involve school texts. The Grangers were immensely grateful to the point that Harry wasn't sure his blush would ever recede. That night, he dreamed of the might-be Snape.
In the dream, he followed the might-be Snape through the hedge maze from the Triwizard Tournament. The man glided in and out of all the obstacles, while Harry struggled past them. When they reached the center where the cup should have been, Harry rounded a corner in the path to see the man sitting atop the trophy pedestal, facing away from him. He stepped forward and reached out, certain that now he would see the familiar face he was so sure he'd find. When he made to grasp the figure's shoulder, though, the body turned to smoke in his hands. He looked around him wildly, sure he'd find the man walking down one of the hedge paths, but as he spun on the spot, he saw that the hedge paths were gone, replaced by total darkness. He spotted the might-be Snape a ways away, lying as still as death in a spot of light, his back still to him. When he tried to move towards the prone form, his legs caught in a swampy black that began to suck him in. A cruel, jeering laugh echoed in the dark, and glowing red eyes peered out at him as he struggled not to drown in the cold, bubbling oubliette.
-Break-
Harry awoke with the sun the next morning, covered in a sheen of cold sweat. The dream had frightened him, but it had also hardened his resolve. He had to find out if that was Snape he'd seen in the park. It probably wasn't the life or death situation that his dream had made it out to be, but for all he knew it might be. And it was clear his curiosity wasn't going to let it go until he knew for sure, in any case. His decision made, the Boy Who Lived got up and dressed in more of his cousin's hand-me-downs. When he reached the kitchen, he realized no one else was awake yet, so, after a little exploration, he made coffee and settled at the kitchen table with his homework. After a time, he heard Hermione's parents moving around in their bedroom above him, and he set his homework aside in favor of cooking another meal for his hosts.
Violet was the first down the stairs, and she looked delighted to see Harry at the stove.
"Oh, Harry, you don't have to do that. Especially after that wonderful dinner you cooked last night."
Harry blushed. "I-I don't mind, really. I love to cook, and it makes me feel useful. If it bothers you, I'm sure I could find something else to do."
"Bother me?" Violet asked, looking confused as she moved to make a cup of coffee. "Why would it bother me, dear? If it's something you enjoy, I won't stand in the way. I just don't want you to feel like you're obligated to do something for us. You are a guest, after all."
"N-no," Harry stammered, pouring eggs into a pan as the bacon and sausage started to brown. "I really do enjoy it."
"Then I'm happy to let you cook, Harry," Violet said, kissing his head once she'd done adding sugar and cream to her coffee. "I may take issue with it, though, if you continue to cook so well. I daresay I'll gain a stone by summer's end, if you do."
Harry stifled a chuckle. "I'll work on that."
"Don't you listen to her, Harry," Jack said, coming into the kitchen as he buttoned his shirt cuffs. "She's just jealous that you're a better cook than she is."
"I am not jealous, Jack, I'm happy about it. If anyone should be jealous, it's you and Hermione. You both burn toast," Violet said, getting another mug down for her husband.
"Proudly, Vi, you forgot the part where I proudly burn toast," Jack boasted.
Harry chuckled, looking away politely when the two shared a chaste kiss over their coffees. Hermione chose that moment to walk in as well.
"You two are embarrassing."
Jack chuckled and set his coffee down as he swung his wife into his arms and dipped her, making her squeal in surprise and delight. Violet batted at his arm with her free hand until he righted her again, spilling her coffee. Harry immediately moved to the cupboard off the kitchen and grabbed the mop they kept there. He made quick work of the floor and cast a mild wandless cleaning charm, the one thing he was a fair hand at, on the mop before replacing it in its cupboard. He came back out of the closet and noticed that his hosts were all three staring at him. Hermione was watching him with sympathy, but her parents stared with unveiled curiosity. He blushed.
"Sorry, habit," he muttered uncomfortably, moving back to the stove.
"Hmm," Violet hummed with a touch of annoyance. "Yes, Hermione mentioned about your relatives. I hope you know you won't be expected to do any of that here. You're our guest, Harry, and isn't your job to clean up after us."
Harry winced. "Thank you, Mrs. Granger, but it really is just a habit."
"Quite," Violet murmured, sounding as if she disapproved. She brightened again as Harry began to dish out the breakfast he'd cooked. "So, what do you two have planned for today?"
"Studying," Harry said at the same time as Hermione. He chuckled as he brought all four plates to the table at once. Jack actually applauded the feat as Harry set the plates down.
A mischievous glint entered Violet's eyes as Harry sat down with them. "Well, if you've got nothing else to do, I thought the four of us might go out."
Harry looked at Hermione, who smirked back over her own coffee.
"What did you have in mind, Mum?"
"There's a sale at Harrods," Violet said nonchalantly. "I thought we might go into town for some shopping, and perhaps enjoy a nice lunch while we're there."
Hermione's smirk turned mischievous, copying the glint in her mother's eye. "You know, Mum, I don't think Harry's ever been to Harrods. Maybe after lunch we could explore, let you and Dad catch a film or something."
Violet brightened remarkably. "What a lovely idea, Hermione. We'll make a day of it!"
This apparently settled the discussion. Wisely, neither of the men at the table had been consulted. Harry happened to catch Jack's eye over his breakfast, and the man chuckled lightly. The look on his face clearly stated that Harry was in for a long day, and that the man had no sympathy for him. Harry suspected that, with Hermione away at school so much, Jack had played dress-up one too many times in years previous. The group finished their breakfast, Hermione chattering with her father about things in the Wizarding newspaper as well as the Muggle one while Violet engaged Harry in talk about his time at Hogwarts. She seemed especially curious about his wandless magic, but was too polite to ask him outright. Harry was vaguely reminded of a less prying Arthur Weasley as she questioned the very basis of magic itself.
When breakfast had done, and Harry had cleaned up with Hermione's help, the Granger family left Harry alone long enough to put his homework away while they dressed for a day out. Upon returning downstairs, he found Jack waiting alone by the door. He blushed self-consciously as he approached.
"I imagine Hermione's already warned you about what you'll be up against today," Jack said, grinning.
Harry nodded. "She mentioned something about it yesterday. I didn't think she was serious, though, to be honest."
Jack chuckled. "Afraid so. Here," He took his hand out of the pocket of his jeans and held it out, palm down.
Harry held out is own hand curiously and found a twenty pound note slapped into the middle. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at the man uncertainly. "I can't take this, Mr.-"
"I insist, Harry," Jack said, his smile softening. "It's not payment for anything, and it isn't money you'll owe back, it's an honest gift. I want you to use that money to get something you like while we're out today. Violet will probably insist I give you both some spending money after lunch, but this is just for you, to do with as you see fit."
Harry looked at the note again. His first thought was to try again to refuse it, but Hermione's voice in his mind gently reminded him that it would be considered rude. Still, Harry didn't exactly feel comfortable accepting money from his best friend's parents, especially money he hadn't earned in some way. He looked back up at the man who never seemed to lose his smile.
"Are you sure, Sir? I haven't done anything to warrant your generosity," He mumbled.
Jack actually laughed. "You've done more than you know, Harry, but this isn't a payment of any kind. The good thing about generosity is that you don't have to do anything to earn it."
Still unsure about taking money he hadn't earned, Harry slipped the note into his pocket. He smiled shyly as they finally heard the rest of their quartet coming down the stairs. Jack's smile brightened upon seeing his "best girls" and he led the way out to the car. Harry climbed into the backseat with Hermione. He knew it was his imagination, but the money in his pocket felt like a twenty pound stone, rather than a scrap of colorful paper. He had never been given money before, save his inheritance, and he felt like a rat accepting it. He doubted the Grangers would understand, though, so he made himself a solemn promise. Hermione had mentioned on the train that she had summer chores, and Harry made a mental list of the things he could do himself. He couldn't return the money, but he could earn it, at least in his own mind. He couldn't have said why it bothered him so much. It was such a small thing.
The Boy Who Lived, who had been slumped in his seat with his bothersome thoughts, straightened as they passed the park. His curiosity would have to wait another day, apparently, but he still watched out the window for the might-be Snape. Just as he was about to give up, he spotted the tell-tale black hair and slim shoulders of the man he'd seen yesterday. He was standing with his back to the road, near a mobile coffee vendor. Harry slumped slightly when they passed by without the man looking round. Soon, the park was behind them, and they were on their way into London.