Fresh Start
Weeks passed as Harry fell into a constant routine of waking up by the crack of dawn, working on the backyard before falling asleep out of pure physical exhaustion. This was only exemplified when Harry managed to get himself a membership at the local gym, for which he found time thrice a week.
His stay at the Kent residence was fulfilling to say the least, he had spent hours talking to Mrs. Kent about some of her most mind-boggling adventures. Harry's personal favorite was her visit to Gabon, where she formed an unlikely friendship with a tribe she was researching. A part of him wished, that his yearly adventures had been equally light-hearted and enjoyable as the kind woman in front of him.
His weeks of work had nourished the young seeds which were now beginning to show its first sprouts, peeking shyly out of the dark brown earth. Not that his work was done, far from it. He still had to finish planting another large section of flowers but his steady and quick progress gave him faith that he could comfortably finish his task before September.
It was during one of these days of work when he decided to help Mrs. Smith with cleaning the bungalow, who took great attention to making sure that Mrs. Kent was within a five-foot radius of her at all times. Much to the displeasure of the older woman who remarked that she had spent enough time with the blonde nurse for a lifetime.
Harry cleaned the last of the dozens of pictures scattered along the walls with his trusty cloth, pictures of animals, lakes, and events all flashed across his eyes until a particular frame caught his eye.
A woman with long wavy brown hair and chocolate eyes smiled at him through the picture frame. One hand grasping a hammer, while the other was firmly wrapped around the hand of a brunette man, the aforementioned subject of interest had bent down next to her face while sporting a bright smile.
"Ah, seems like you found a picture", chirped Mrs. Kent. Her bony fingers pulled the portrait out of Harry's hands.
She looked into the very frame that Harry had just seconds ago, her brown eyebrows furrowing as her eyes turned wistful and distant. The only Potter in the room was uncomfortable. The mention of whoever the man was in the portrait, had clearly flicked a switch in the woman who was now deep in thought.
He had to change the subject, the mention of whoever the man was in the photo was upsetting to Mrs. Kent. He opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted.
"That's my Richard", Mrs. Kent croaked out. Harry's eyes grew wide as he saw the unusually quiet Nurse, mouthing the word "Husband" to the boy. Guilt overcame Harry as he realized that he had caused her to remember her late spouse.
He would get incredibly uncomfortable with the mention of his parents and he never even knew them. He could only imagine, how Mrs. Kent would feel to talk about her late husband.
"This picture was taken in this very backyard", recounted Mrs. Kent who was now peering through the window. "There used to be a birdhouse, there", she gestured towards an empty spot in the vast expanse in front of her. "Until it grew much too old and weak, we had to cut it down".
"Stop looking at me like that"
"Wh-What?", stuttered Harry, clearly snapped out of his guilt-ridden musings.
"I've come to terms with his death. Enough, with skirting around the topic", quipped Mrs. Kent who was awfully good at cutting through the chase. A feature that Harry didn't know if he liked or hated.
"I believe it would be rather beneficial for you to learn about love, for you never really know when you may come across it", spoke the old woman.
Harry perked up at the comment. This whole debacle of trying to improve his looks, everything... was reliant on the central fact that whatever he felt towards Hermione was in fact, Love.
What if this isn't love?
Harry froze at the thought. He had to know for sure and to his benefit, he was offered a very lucrative opportunity.
"Well- uhm, how do- you know what l-love is?", questioned Harry
"Love, what is Love...", muttered Mrs. Kent. I did describe it in one word Harry, "Irrational".
"I-Irrational? rebutted Harry.
He was caught off guard, out of everything he had heard about the subject matter, the term
"Irrational" was never used. A part of him was expecting a sappy response.
"Yes, Harry. Irrational", reaffirmed Mrs. Kent who looked like she had aged a decade over the last minute.
"You see, when you're truly in love with someone Harry", said Mrs. Kent stressing the word "truly"
"You would be willing to die for them, chop off a bloody arm for fucks sake", yelled Mrs. Kent
Harry's mouth visibly opened out of sheer surprise.
Mrs. Smith looked like she was on the edge of taunting the woman with her use of profanity, which the older woman despised by calling it "low class" and "juvenile". The gravity of the situation though, made her reconsider before choosing not to point it out.
"One may say, that dying for a spouse may be evolutionarily required. I mean, what could be wrong with that? Well, that's quite moronic isn't it, because you could reproduce with billions of other individuals. From a biological point of view, putting so much stock on one person seems utterly ridiculous. But yet... we put that stock", continued Mrs. Kent
You see Harry, one thing I have understood during my lengthy stay on this sphere floating in the middle of nowhere in the great expanses of space is that something's are just not explainable. They are just that, unexplainable.
There are things I have learned in my trips across the many tribes deemed "primitive" by conferences of old balding men in London. That we every-day civilized and "enlightened" folk just can't explain, Harry! re-itereated Mrs. Kent.
Love is just that Harry, an elusive being that makes us willingly place our precious life on the line for another individual, yet we do not complain.
We do not complain, Harry, due to "that". A feeling so alluring and all-consuming, that using a word from the English dictionary just wouldn't do it justice. It is "that" which makes us do this Harry.
"That", emphasized the woman
"That...", Harry whispered under his breath. He would sacrifice himself for Hermione without question, it was almost frightening how easily that decision came to him. Almost as if he had placed no thought into that decision.
This "That" Harry, is more addictive than any narcotic on the market. With conventional drugs, each day without the consumption of the substance causes you to become less and less addicted to it.
"That" on the other hand, Harry.
"That" grows more powerful each day you don't possess it, stronger with each passing thought of the last time you experienced that "That"
Have you ever felt "That", questioned Mrs. Kent curtly.
"Have I- Have I-", thought Harry before it all became clear.
"Yes, he had."
He did in fact feel "That" towards a certain bushy-brown haired witch
"I love her", thought Harry.
It felt right.
"You like someone? Who is it?", squealed Mrs. Smith. Harry was gobsmacked, he didn't realize he had said it out loud.
"Uh-uh it's a girl from school", stammered Harry feeling incredibly awkward under the attention he was receiving.
"Young love, eh? She must be quite brilliant for you to take notice of her", remarked the blonde woman who now reminded him of Lavender Brown and her unhealthy obsession with gossip.
"She is brilliant, alright!", said Harry with a smile on his face.
"Well, when is the last time you talked to this girl?" asked Mrs. Kent expectantly.
Harry froze, Hermione did not exactly send him any letters. He couldn't say that to them, could he?
Mrs. Kent's eyes narrowed, "Did she even try talking to you?"
"No, Miss. She did not", admitted Harry
"Are you both friends?", prodded Mrs. Kent
"More than that, best friends", he responded
"Well, I would be quite cross with this lass. Not a single letter?", frowned the old woman disapprovingly.
"I'm sure she has her reasons", responded Harry exasperated but not exactly trusting his own words.
"Had she decided to just leave him? He wouldn't blame her at all if she didn't want to stick around after Voldermorts resurrection
"What kind of a person is she?" asked Mrs. Kent who was clearly under the impression that Hermione wasn't quite a good match for the Potter.
"I know what it looks like but she is truly the smartest and kindest person I know, I truly don't think I would have been able to last this long at my boarding school without her!", defended Harry.
His eyes grew ablaze with fire as his fists balled up. Thousands of counter-arguments flew through his mind, begging for Harry to use them.
"Seems like he really is in love", smirked Mrs. Kent mischievously at Harry's show of resistance.
"He sure is!", giggled Mrs. Smith excitedly.
Harry's conversation with the old woman was certainly fruitful for the young man, who skipped back to Number Four with a full stomach of shepherds pie and his heart ablaze with his new found discovery.
The usual screams of orders and complaints did not appear the second Harry stepped into the house, it seemed that the Dursley's had finally decided to leave the boy alone, something which Harry reckoned had something to do with Dudley's recent change of heart towards his only cousin.
As he trudged up the stairs, he reminisced about the changes he had brought to his room. With the money that he had earned working for Mrs. Kent which by all means was quite good for a teenager, he had been able to buy himself multiple brand new bedsheets, his plan was not to only use it for his bed of course.
He used most of his newly bought bedsheets to form a sort of makeshift wallpaper for his room due to his desperate need to hide the beige wallpaper which could be described as a Dursley trademark.
He wanted something which reminded him more of home. His only real home.
Hogwarts.
More specifically the Gryffindor common room, therefore to no one's surprise Harry had subconsciously chosen only red and golden bedsheets for his project.
All of them were covered with a variety of designs, his personal favourite of course, was a certain cloth which was decorated with numerous icon's of coffee mugs.
It reminded him of Hermione, who would often overdose on caffeine to aid in her never ending pursuit to complete assignments weeks before they were due.
This connection caused Harry to exclusively use it on his bed, in some sort of way he felt it brought him closer to the Granger. Yes, the room looked quite bizarre but that's exactly how Harry liked it. He liked it magical and not muggle-ish.
Though he was obsessed with trying to feel more magical, he was in no position to actually use it. He mentally cursed at whoever thought it would be a brilliant idea to not allow students to practice magic out of Hogwarts, he did so half-heartedly though. He shuddered at the thought of a universe were Dudley was a wizard and could use magic at home.
"A silencing charm would have been great, though", remarked Harry to no one in particular. Dudley's late night ramblings while playing video games was not exactly appealing to Harry's ears.
He twisted the knob to his room to find everything just like how he had left it, seeing that the flour that he had placed in front of the door way did not have any footprints allowed Harry to confirm that no one had been snooping around in his room.
Because if they had been snooping around through his room, they would be surprised to find a tiny piggy-bank in the corner of the room hidden behind a wall of dirty clothes. That is, if you would consider a miniature replica of a hippogriff under the aforementioned term.
It would be a surprise to know that a supposed delinquent Harry Potter who attended St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys for most of the year, actually saved his money instead of splurging it all on illegal bets.
He was very fond of the Hypogriff-bank, it had been a gift from his godfather Sirius Black. A tribute to the infamous BuckBeak who Harry and Hermione saved towards the end of their third year at Hogwarts. Harry grinned at the memory of her tiny arms grabbing onto his waist furiously, it felt like almost yesterday when she was screaming his name out loud as they flew through the sky at inhumanley fast speeds.
His boredom induced reading of Greek mythology found him fawning over the fact that hippogriffs were infact a symbol of romantic love, something that he dearly wished was more than a simple co-incidence.
The piggy-bank was magically enchanted to require a password to open, despite the repeated warnings to use a password which is hard to guess and not related to the user.
He couldn't help but set his password as Hermione Jean Potter, which in hindsight was probably not the smartest of decisions. Rita Skeeters articles during his fourth year at Hogwarts made the rumour of Harry and Hermione being an item quite a popular one, therefore it wouldn't be completely ridiculous to assume that a person like Collin Creevy would be able to guess the password to his trusted piggy-bank and knack away the only only muggle money to Harry's name, due to his extensive knowledge on "Potter rumors"
In fact, after the publication of that very article. Collin had practically begged Harry to allow him to take pictures of him and Hermione when they eventually got married, something which Harry was now keen to look into. More so for the "marrying Hermione" part than anything else.
Maybe he could convince Hermione into marrying him by practising a sob story about how Collin would not leave him alone unless he did, she might take pity on him and just do it.
He quickly deposited another one of his weekly payments through the Hypogriffs beak which acted as the opening of the artifact.
Hedwig hooted happily at Harry which was highly irregular but was a good thing nonetheless.
"What's gotten you so excited Hedwig?", cooed the bespectacled boy as he petted the snow owl gently. He received a few more hoot's in quick succession as a response, before he heard a queit tapping on his window.
Outside of his only window was a tiny grey owl that Harry recognized to be Pigwidgeon, the new Weasley family owl which was much to the delight of their long-time owl Errol who was now enjoying his life of retirement at the burrow.
He nearly tripped as he dashed towards the window, excited to finally receive his first batch of letter's from the magical world after what felt like years.
After allowing the tiny grey owl into the house, who provided him a thankful hoot before taking post next to Hedwig. He slowly untied the multiple letter's from Pigwidgeons claws, the load seemed far to big for such a tiny owl. Yet the young owl's seemingly infinite energy did not seemed to be bothered by its lack of physical strength.
He read the name's of each letter, he got one from, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, The Twins, and Sirius. Who he assumed was probably living next to the Weasley's so that Dumebeldore could keep an eye on the old dog.
His lips were grinning broadly with sheer joy until his eyes rested on the final name.
Hermione Granger, Harry frowned at the name.
Why was Hermione's letter being carried by Ron's owl?, thought Harry as he unfurled the letter open.
Dear Harry,
I hope your doing well! I'm terribly sorry for not sending you any letters over the summer. Dumbeldore said that we have to limit our communication to prevent any security threats, I really hope your not too mad at me, Harry.
Me, the Weasley's and Sirius are all safe and living together at a location I cannot disclose.
I can't tell you much as there's nothing much to say without getting into trouble, I've been trying to convince Ronald to complete his summer assignments but he is just not listening. We have just been spending an un-godly amount of time together, I think I have every single Chudley Canon players entire family tree etched into the back of my hand! Enduring Ron's not so rare passion filled rant's are having an effect on me.
Maybe if he would use half of the amount of time he spends talking about a broomstick game, he might be able to actually achieve something.
I really miss you Harry, I know you don't tell me much but I am sure that your "family" if you could even call them that, are definetley on the abusive side. Dumbeldore tells me to not worry, though I don't know if he truly understands what's going on.
Just hang in there Harry, you will be with us soon enough. I think we should start studying for the O.W.L's when you get here, it's never to early to study for such an instrumental exam right?
Lots of Love,
Hermione
Harry folded the letter.
Hermione's with Ron? Spending an "un-godly" amount of time together?
Anger flooded through Harry along with a tinge of envy. "Ron's spending time with Hermione? While I am rotting away at the Dursleys".
Thoughts of Ron and Hermione becoming closer over the summer, watering the seeds of a romance between the two while Harry stood at the sidelines not being able to do anything about it.
Here he was. Quite possibly, hundreds of miles away from wherever Hermione may find herself. There was quite literally to the fullest extend of the word, nothing he could do except one single goddamn thing.
Bid his time.
Authors Note
Merlin, 3k words. Longest chapter I have written. I hope you guys liked how Mrs. Kent described love through the usage of the term "that" it just came to me to be honest.
Harry realizes he actually does truly love Hermione, but the seeds of jealousy which is sown in this chapter will be very very imperative for the future chapter. I don't really like how I wrote the ending of the chapter? But, I don't want to delay an update for you guys.
Please give me any suggestions, as this is my first real endeavor in writing.
See you in the next chapter - B