Harry woke up with a start, rubbing his eyes groggily. His vision barely adjusted to the light that now flooded his room. A jumble of hands fumbled for his glasses, hastily grabbing them and thrusting them over his eager eyes.
The Potter hoped that his only blood family would take pity on him, be nice to him for once in his brief life. However, the Boy Who Lived would soon come to realize that this could never happen. The Dursleys would never accept him for who he was, no matter what he did.
This realization led his emerald gaze to notice the wide array of locks decorating his door as if it had appeared overnight, which it most probably had. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he swallowed thickly.
Harry James Potter was no longer a free man, He was a prisoner in his own "home".
He felt his shoulder sag in complete defeat, Harry really looked forward to meeting Mrs. Kent later that day. This was the case all of the time of course, but today was different… Today was the first day he would not be able to.
He briefly wondered if Mrs. Kent would come searching for him, he certainly hoped so but didn't want to raise his spirits too high. There was a wide array of plausible reasons that Mrs. Kent could believe as to why he hadn't visited today; he highly doubted that being locked up in a cramped up room by your abusive relatives was a concern that floated into the minds of everyday people.
Harry groaned with regret at not revealing the true situation of his stay at Number Four to the old woman, if he had done so Mrs. Kent would have had a better chance at figuring out what had happened to him.
"Well, that isn't going to happen anytime soon. Is it?"
Emerald eyes locked onto the small cat flap on his door with disdain, it felt like he was twelve all over again.
He had grown used to the large homely meals that Mrs. Kent would cook him, allowing him to eat to his fill. A situation which was a rarity for him when he was not at Hogwarts.
He sighed as he picked up the bowl of soup placed without a care in the corner of his "room". Almost a quarter of its initial volume had been spilled onto the floor as if someone had chucked it instead of placing it, considering his Uncle's reaction it was probably deliberate. Not a surprise of course, he should have known better.
The broth was thin as water, dripping instantly from the cold teaspoon in his hand. The Dursleys had decided to follow the same diet plan as the summer of his second year, a decision which may have worked for a scrawny twelve-year-old boy but definitely not for a growing fifteen-year-old teen at the height of his appetite.
Harry slurped his soup in melancholy, quiet sips rang across the room due to the absence of any other sound, the absence of life… No longer did he hear the frustrated chiding of Mrs. Smith, the loving praise of Mrs. Kent, or the oddly gratifying chirps of small birds. He simply heard nothing.
Life was not so great for Harry James Potter.
The same could not be said for Ronald Billius Weasley. Although he would argue otherwise.
Yes, he was not being confined into a cramped up room indefinitely. But, for the boy who believed that his best mate of nearly half-a-decade signed up to fight a dragon for "glory". Maybe, his slightly delusional discretion could be justified by his superior intellect.
The red haired wizard was wallowing within the four walls of his spacious room at Grimmauld Place, the new headquarters of the Order. The empty seat beside him was the cause of his new case of self-pity, particularly due to the absence of the pretty brunette witch who had claimed it as her own.
The "pretty" part of that string of adjectives was a relatively new association. Infact, It took the Weasley an entire ball for him to realize that Hermione was much more than a bloke who just so happened to have a ponytail.
The realization of course fueled a multi-month long courting ritual to gain the affections of the muggleborn. In fact, he believed that he had made much progress during the summer without his nosy best friend entering the conversation every minute or two.
Ron had finished his eight-hundred word essay early for Hermione, something so unheard of that it would have been local newspaper worthy material. Only if Ron hadn't stopped his little sister from sending a letter informing publishers about the great breakthrough.
The arguments of course did not cease, there was just something about talking to her that just set him off. Hermione would usually run away to the library out of frustration, but considering that it was no longer an option. Hermione had to remain glued to his side. Much to the boy's inner delight, he fancied Hermione's face when she looked angry.
"Is that really a healthy fancy?", questioned a posh voice in his head. Sounding a lot like the brightest witch of her age
"I dunno, she's pretty though", responded Ron. Not exactly understanding the premise of the question.
The voice in his head refused to respond after that remark. Probably shaking its head at the fact that it was a permanent resident of the Weasley's head until death did them apart.
The wizard brushed away the funny words the weird voice in his head had thrown at him, instead choosing to strategize.
Ron for his own regard was not very confident that he would be able to capture her heart, his only initial competition had been Harry. The Potters' obsession with Cho Chang had driven away all concerns of a potential romantic pairing, something that he subtly encouraged.
However, his only real concern was a man from Bulgaria, Viktor Krum, a world-famous, strong and incredibly rich Quidditch player who had taken a liking to Hermione. He was banking on Hermione not fancying him back, which did not seem like the case considering the novel-length letters she sent him on a weekly basis much to his displeasure.
The literal continent separating Hermione from Viktor had been somewhat calming for him.
Harry was obviously no longer a threat. Right?
"RONALD! BREAKFAST!", yelled Mrs. Weasley
"Coming mum!", exclaimed Ron as he ran off to the dining table. Thoughts about Hermione leaving his head, being replaced by multiple bowls of bacon and eggs.
He was not full, he didn't like not being full.
Hermione Granger on the other hand desperately wanted to give anything for her to not be so full.
Mrs. Kent had served several rows of large meals, everything you could think of was on the table.
The witch didn't need to be asked twice when she saw a large bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese on the table, sitting incredibly seductively as if it was taunting her to come take a bite. She began shoveling it down her mouth at a speed that would leave even Ron bowing down in defeat, she may have felt slightly guilty for overeating especially when she was trying to watch what she ate but it wasn't her fault.. Right?
"The spaghetti had no business tasting that good, it was asking for it", thought Hermione idly before mentally slapping herself in the face for how stupid that argument sounded.
She felt her stomach beg her to not eat more, she of course was not going to listen to the instincts of a mere organ. Thus, she decided to take a bit of a break before launching another conquest on the bowl.
As Hermione strolled around the comfortable living quarters after a decisive victory over the spaghetti nation, she couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity as she remembered Aunt Jenna's rant about the "mystery boy".
From what she deducted, he must have arrived already. Her frame began to slowly creep its way toward her aunt in order to discreetly get a glance on this boy, her curiosity had no limits.
"I don't know where he is, this is not normal", spoke the fervent tone of Mrs. Kent to the Granger matriarch. Hermione raised her eyebrows at this in confusion.
"I'm sure he is fine, Aunt Jen. He is probably running late! "exclaimed Emma trying to console the worried old woman, a task which did not seem likely when taking into consideration Mrs. Kent's stature.
"His family must have done something to him, I'm sure of it! Those bloody insolent lot always caused him to be uncomfortable when it came time to talk about him home life"
This statement Hermione observed, caused her mother to cock her head to the right in concern. Her face flashed a variety of emotions before settling down on anger. Anger that Hermione really would not like to come to stand in front of.
Hermione had grown up, not knowing much about her mum's side of the family. She had always found it odd that her classmate's would talk about having two sets of grandparents, while she only had one from her father's side.
Initially, she thought it was because she was special. Whenever she would get bullied for her affinity towards reading or her obsessive attitude concerning the grammatical error's present in her peer's homework, she would dash home in a fit of tears. Only to find her lovely mother, standing in front of the door with her arms wide open. Promising that the bushy buck-toothed toddler was anything but "insufferable", she emphasized that the junior of the Granger family was in fact blessed and gifted which made her different from the other kids.
It wasn't until her fifth birthday when she stumbled upon a page about reproduction in one of the encyclopedias she was reading that she confronted her mother about her lack of maternal grandparents.
Mrs. Granger had brushed it off back then but was never truly able to hide the truth from her growing daughter, especially not one so innately curious as Hermione.
Hermione's mother had grown in a strikingly different home to her own. A home where discomfort and screams of anger was the norm of everyday life. Her father had died shortly after her birth, entrusting the girl under the care of her stringent mother who ensued nearly two decades of borderline torture on her. The extent of which still remained unknown to the witch, but enough was known that Mrs. Granger was always going to have a soft-spot for kids who found themselves in the same spot she did.
"Okay, let's go", said Mrs. Granger curtly. Her eyes blazed with determination, fingers curling over the cold steel handle of the wheelchair.
"Wait for me!", exclaimed the obese blonde nurse who began to chase her mother's petite figure.
Hermione watched in dismay as her mother began to walk further and further away through the window of the living room. She was truly sympathetic for whoever it was that had helped her Aunt during the robbery.
However, she felt relieved as Mrs. Granger's fierce figure disappeared from her gaze. Which made her quite guilty, but not guilty enough to not do what she was fiending to do.
Her journey to Number Four, Privet Drive.
It was astoundingly frustrating for Hermione to be so close to Harry's neighborhood but not be able to meet him, she would occasionally resent her parent's from refusing her to go meet her favorite green eyed teenager. However, she did understand that the Granger's felt like they were losing their daughter.
I mean why wouldn't they. Imagine sending your daughter off to a boarding school to practice an illusive and otherworldly concept like magic which you can barely comprehend. Only to find that your once tidy, neat and obedient child who could not keep a secret for the life of her.
Hid a magically induced coma, transformation into a feline and multiple encounters with death without a word.
All the while spending most of her summer break's over at a large family of redhead's with a strange obsession with even items of the utmost mundane nature like rubber ducks.
Of course, they would not want her to spend the very little time they had with her. In the company of a strange dark haired boy that they only heard of in great detail during her bi-weekly essay length letters to her parent's.
A normal person would understand and choose to conform to her parent's demands. Hermione, on the other hand, never claimed to be a "normal person". She was certainly not the most emotionally considerate of people around her, especially when it came to people that she adored and this particular individual in question was her best friend who she had stuck with through thick and thin.
Hermione rushed up the stairs with giddiness pulsing through her veins, her father was off playing golf with some associates at work. Which meant that she was alone to do her bidding.
She was going to be left alone as she meets Harry, who she hadn't had a proper conversation with through letters, as they were constantly supervised by her quite nosy headmaster.
The room was filled with quick zap of a zipper being unzipped before the onslaught of multiple clothes being dropped onto the floor.
She began to look for her dark black hoodie, the completion of her quest caused her to almost jump in victory. However a small "stupid" part of her thought that making any noise at all would magically cause her parent's to teleport back into the house, the thought alone was enough for her to restrain herself.
As Hermione looked over herself against the large vertical mirror standing at the epicenter of the wooden wall in front of her, she couldn't help but feel confident in herself. Sure, she would probably look better wearing that deep purple shirt that she had bought. But, wearing a striking color would make her stand out. Which was the opposite she wanted to do while actively trying to hide from her parent's who may also be roaming around the streets, it would be quite the surprise to see their fifteen year old daughter prowling around a neighborhood she really didn't know.
She had exited the house as quickly as she could, skipping a couple of steps during her endeavor. The cold breeze rushing across her face as she stepped out, made her nose begin to redden.
"Here I come, Potter", whistled Hermione endearingly to no one in particular.
Her footsteps echoed through the largely empty streets, which was quite surprising as she believed that the neighborhood was probably busy. However, looking at the dark gloomy atmosphere that had quickly descended upon the vicinity since she had left the home. She wouldn't blame them at all for not wanting to come out of the comfort of their warm homes.
Hermione watched as she passed multiple stores in quick succession, until each one began to seem irrelevant to her. She decided to be only focused on asking for directions to Privet Drive. The brown haired witch had shyly asked a passing woman for directions, before realizing that she didn't need to be so bashful at all. Everyone seemed to be of the highest moral caliber and put in extra effort when they found out that she was new to the place.
The brown haired witch was slowly beginning to gain confidence every single time she asked which one was the current turn, "Who knew that talking to people could be this easy", she thought.
She idly wondered what would have happened if she simply talked to other people with respect when she first entered Hogwarts, instead of attempting to ridicule them for their lack of knowledge. Maybe Harry and Ron would have actually wanted to become friends with her, instead of having to fight a troll in order to solidify their friendship.
Her rather unconventional attainment of her two platonic boyfriends had always bothered her. Was she really so socially stunted that she had to literally take a near-mythical creature to finally get her first "real" friends.
As she began to talk to people more confidently and pass out compliments to strangers she had never seen before, a funny feeling began to bubble inside of her.
For the first time since leaving Hogwarts for the summer break, she felt accepted. Truly.
Hermione had always thought that she was an introvert but maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe, it was simply a made up self-limiting belief to restrict her from stepping out of her comfort zone.
A tiny part of her also wondered what Harry and Ron would think about this new her, would they be impressed?
She arrived right next to a deserted playground before standing there dumbfounded. Scratching her head in confusion, she could swear that the middle-aged gym goer had told her to take the right turn. Had she messed it up? There wasn't anyone here.
The pretty brunette tried looking around her in order to find someone else to talk to, initially coming back empty handed before spotting a group of people huddled over a lone swing.
A group of boys. Teenaged boys.
Hermione didn't exactly have a good experience with boy's, most of them broke her heart or caused her to cry. They were exceptionally brutal during her first year at Hogwarts with their never-ending bullying.
She was almost compelled to turn and walk a few more blocks before trying to find help. Just before she did so though, she chastised herself.
"No, Granger. You're going to be going there and talking to them, no matter what. It's time to step out of your comfort zone, everyone seems great over here. You must never judge a book by its cover.
She nodded in agreement to the voice in her head, this would not only help her overcome her fears but would be the most time-efficient way to get to Harry as quickly as possible.
Hermione felt a sinking feeling as she saw the group turn to look at her approaching figure. Their gaze leered at her and penetrated her soul, as if it was left out in the open.
"Uhm, Hello?", squeaked Hermione awkwardly. She desperately tried to grapple onto her reserve of confidence, only to find out that it had run dry quite quickly.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing over here?", drawled out a particularly tall boy. This caused the group to begin whistling in agreement.
"Do you know where Privet Drive is, by any chance?", she continued firmly.
The tall boy made a face, as his hand began to inch closer towards her own before it froze.
"Stop it, Frank", screeched a high pitched voice from behind him. The tall boy hastily withdrew his hand, snapping his eyes away from Hermione's in an instant as she retreated into the group.
The witch furrowed her eyebrows, who could that voice possibly belong to?
That's when she saw a horribly obese boy waddle his way towards her, he stood slightly taller than her but not by much. His eyes were round and owl-like, his mouth twisted up in a permanent sneer.
"The name's Dudley", he said politely. Extending his chubby finger's towards her in an offered handshake, which she hesitantly accepted. "Could you please tell me where Privet Drive is?"
"Privet Drive? Of course! I live there, why don't you follow me. Lad's I'll be back shortly after I escort this lovely lady over here", announced Dudley to his fellow mate's before bowing curtly to her and offering his arm which she nervously held out of compulsion.
The duo began walking down the street, as she couldn't help but feel like she had seen the boy somewhere. She simply couldn't put her finger on it.
The boy began to talk smoothly about the neighborhood and began to introduce her to the locality, something which she would have appreciated if he didn't have to attempt to lousily flirt with her every time he did.
After the ninth compliment about how she was almost brighter than his dad's expensive yellow mustang, she had half the mind to let go of her grip on his arm. However, the tiny sacrifice of having to be in his company in order to get to her location was enough.
It wasn't until a few minute's in her rather excruciating walk with her pompous company, that it finally dawned on her who the boy truly was. He was not another harmless overconfident boy with a slight obsession with her.
No, he was much worse.
He was Dudley Dursley. Her best friend's cousin.
She wanted to sprint away and scrub her hands from having to touch the piece of living filth for more than what was necessary, she couldn't believe that someone like him could blend in with everyday society considering the sinister things he would execute on his only blood cousin.
Hermione bit back her lip in order to stop herself from confronting the boy as a frightening possibility popped into her mind.
If she revealed herself to be one of the student's at Hogwarts, Dudley may whine about it to his parent's who would take out their anger at Harry for "calling his lot over" to their house. Even though it wasn't his fault, Harry hadn't called her and she certainly was not going to put him under scrutiny because of her selfish actions.
For all the bad that had happened, she was slightly grateful that Dudley hadn't recognized her yet.
"Focus on the word "yet", Granger", whispered a voice gravely in her head.
All she had to do was to find a way to slip through the cracks and leave without alerting anyone, simple enough. She was the brightest witch of her age after all she had done much more dangerous heists, something along the tune of being implied in blasting open a holding cell to free a high-profile wanted criminal.
"You're quite gorgeous you know, not many look like you. It can't help that you have quite a spectacular rear view too!"
Enough, she wanted to vomit. Her small hands began to slowly let go of Dudley's thick arms.
"Duddykins! Is that you! Is that your girlfriend?!", cooed a horse-faced woman who she instantly recognized as Petunia Dursley. Harry's Aunt.
If it wasn't for her wanting to keep Harry safe, she would not have been able to hide her clear contempt for the uptight woman.
"No actually, I'm ju-", began Hermione
"Actually she is my girlfriend! Right?", winked Dudely as he laced his arm around her waist causing her to jump in surprise.
"Wha-"
She was interrupted by what you could only call as a shriek of pure joy from the older woman. To a person outside, it may have seemed that Dudley had just announced his engagement.
Hermione awkwardly smiled as Petunia began to bombard her with questions.
'I actually ought to go, my parents must be worrying", spluttered the brown haired witch trying to escape from the claw's of the horse-faced woman.
"Oh come on, you can't be in that much of a hurry. I feel like you are simply shy of meeting Duddykins parents aren't you. Such a sweet little thing you are, come on in. We ought to introduce you to Vernon!", spoke Aunt Petunia fervently
"I really appreciate the concern, Ma'am bu-", the witch was never able to finish that sentence as she began being pulled away by the elbow by Aunt Petunia who didn't seem to listening to a single word she was saying.
"As I was saying Honey, our house is quite luxurious you know. Dudley's father is actually an incredibly successful man-", began Aunt Petunia before delving into a large rant about how picture perfect her family life truly was.
Hermione couldn't help but feel aghast at the fact that not once did the woman mention Harry in any of her sentences, "How could you possibly fail to mention a whole another individual living in the same house as you", thought Hermione unbelievingly
Her eyes sparkled with hope when she saw a banner indicating that she had arrived at Privet Drive. It quite frankly didn't seem like she would be able to escape the Dursley's, but if it meant that she could gain a peek at Harry early. It was probably worth it. Also, they hadn't recognized her so far. If they hadn't by now, they probably wouldn't at all.
The only thing that almost faltered her confident escapade into enemy line's was Harry's reaction, she prayed that he would be able to control himself and not call her by her name.
However that was only a tiny part of the truth.
In reality she was scared. Deathly scared.
Hermione didn't know if Harry even liked her as a friend anymore, she had effectively ignored him the entire summer. Something that didn't sit right with her.
An even tinier part of her was excitedly anxious, she had grown a bit over the summer and the inner-pining version of Hermione wanted to see if Harry appreciated her appearance.
Not that it mattered, Hermione wouldn't place her entire sense of self-esteem on the reaction of a boy, right?
"Yea, that sounds about right!", pondered Hermione not truly believing her own words.
The Dursley duo opened the gates to Number Four and led her inside, showing off the perfectly trimmed grass. Which she figured was probably done by Harry, he had heard little snippets of his home life from him and whenever he did mention anything about his stay at Privet Drive. Doing a boatload of chores was always something which was mentioned.
"You have a wonderful front porch, Ma'am", complimented Hermione. "I wonder who made it look so good!"
"Oh you don't have to flatter me so much, Sweetheart! And guess what, Duddykins over here did it all by himself", announced Petunia, her voice quivering with gratitude for Hermione's reinforcement of her idea of a perfect home.
Dudley tucked his chest out in pride and held his head high at the notion, which Hermione knew for sure was untrue. The boy didn't look like he moved a finger, let alone engage in manual labor. His soft and undamaged palms proved that.
Hermione would bet a large amount of her galleons that she could probably defeat the lesser of the two Potter-Dursley cousins in any athletic activity and Hermione HATED sports with a passion.
She quite certainly had stronger hands than Dudley, carrying a tower of books from one shelf to another in order to re-organize them in the utmost perfect alphabetical order in order to satisfy her obsessive-compulsive disorder was truly physically taxing.
Hermione was snapped out of her day dreaming with a loud screech emitting from Petunia.
"BOY, COME DOWN THIS INSTANT AND UNLOCK THE DOOR! THE KEY TO YOUR OWN DOOR IS HIDDEN UNDERNEATH THE FLOWERPOT IN THE MESS YOU CALL YOUR ROOM"
Hermione was startled at the sudden change in demeanor, from intense kindness to obscene rudeness. Had the woman forgotten that she was there witnessing all of this?
The horse faced the woman's terrified look when she turned around to see Hermione looking at her gobsmacked and confirmed her hypothesis.
"Sorry darling, it's just that the "boy" who lives with us has hearing issues. So we have to scream things for him to hear it. We actually take care of people who are differently abled, it's quite disgusting that they are not more appreciated in modern society", chirped Petunia in a frantic attempt of damage control.
"Oh that's very considerate of you", supplied the brunette weakly. Not fully able to hide the surprise in her voice.
She was met with a slight nod in acknowledgment and a bright smile from the older woman. Not that she particularly cared, because something far more important now stood behind her. Looking directly into her brown orbs through his piercing green.
Hermione's head tilted upwards to meet his eye. "Did she have to do that before?"
His hair was as unruly as ever, but it now fell over his forehead in quite the messy fringe hiding the lightning bolt on his forehead. Framing his face in an oddly gratifying way.
She couldn't help but feel her gaze snap down onto his lips, it was not because they seemed brighter and softer than they had ever been! No, she was simply trying to break eye contact in order to not make it look obvious that they know each other.
Her chestnut brown eyes flashed as she saw his lower third which protruded prominently causing his cheeks to slightly hollow, he could slay a basilisk with it. Far more efficiently than the sword of Gryffindor.
She could feel herself growing warm, so she simply snapped her face down onto the ground in order to avoid it. A certified Hermione Granger method to run away from her problems.
However, the problem was the whole reason why she was here. To meet Harry and let him know that she hadn't abandoned him.
"Hi", said Harry dumbly
"Oh Harry, this is…", blanked Petunia
"Sweetheart, what was your name again? My memory is not serving me properly!"
"Mia Greenford!", squeaked Hermione before biting her lip. You would think that the brightest witch of her age would think and create the perfect alias through a set of complex rules. This simply was not the case, unless slapping your childhood nickname onto the random green Ford Fiesta that you saw on your walk was considered to be "complex"
"Yes, she is Mia Greenford and the wonderful girlfriend of Duddykins over here! Could you be so sweet to fetch us a cup of tea?", requested Petunia with false kindness evident in her high-pitched voice.
"Yes- Aunt Petunia", stuttered Harry who seemed very unused to how his aunt was treating him on this rather uneventful Tuesday.
Well, it was largely uneventful, other than finding out that your Best Friend of four years was apparently dating your horrible cousin.
Harry rushed into the kitchen to not seem suspicious. This was definitely part of some scheme Hermione's had cooked up.
Even though he was self-admittedly quite thick when it came to understanding social cues. Even he knew that Hermione would never willingly date Dudley Dursley.
Something that should have been more obvious was that she used a fake name, which apparently did not graze his mind as his brain was too busy replaying his first look at the girl he had been fawning over for a better part of an entire year.
"She looks.. Great", whispered Harry under his breath as he began the mundane task of pouring tea into the unrealistically clean China. A sense of possessiveness roared inside of him as he dully remembered Dudley's arm around her waist.
Hermione on the other hand was trying to tame the monster of anxiousness inside of her, she sat on the very edge of the sofa. It looked too neat to be properly sat on, she didn't feel like crumpling it.
Infact, the entire home looked like a hospital. The floor's were wiped clean to the point that Hermione didn't feel like they even needed a mirror to do their hair, they could simply look at the floor.
She had seen Harry after a long time and she could barely recognize him, physically of course. Behind those brilliant green eyes she could still see the inquisitive gaze of the scrawny kid that she had become friends with during her first year at Hogwarts. Her Harry was still in there.
What she didn't understand is how he could change so much in such a short period of time. He had grown nearly a foot, for god sake. The boy was a bamboo tree.
Her heart began hammering at the thought of his face, Hermione didn't really care all that much about someone's looks. She hadn't joined the extensively large Cedric fan club during her 4th year stint at Hogwarts. Sure, he was incredibly handsome but beyond that she couldn't see what was the appeal.
But, seeing this new version of Harry was doing something to her. Something which scared her. He looked so, lovable..
"Shut it Granger", cried a sharp voice in her head. Banging against the restraints of her large brain, trying to get the brown haired witch to halt in her line of thinking.
"He doesn't like you that way", screeched the voice as her voice began disappearing in her head. It almost sounded as if she was being dragged away by her hormones, who couldn't give a flying buckbeak about logic and rationality.
Hermione's heart flared in anger at the voice. She had half the mind to evict it from her residence in her head, to throw her belongings out of its large penthouse in her brain and throw it out of her ear. Sending her along, in her merry way. Her impressively low self-esteem however was able to conquer her desire, firmly moving the insecure voice back into its impressive residency in her mind.
Her chestnut brown eyes fell onto the dark red carpet, as she started feeling tear's building up in her eyes. She bit her lip in order to distract herself from the stinging realization that her and Harry were never meant to be.
The brown haired witch shook her head in order to restrain her emotions, which she regarded as a sign of weakness. Something that had been ingrained in her mind since her adolescence. Crying in front of bullies had never made them stop bullying her, it simply caused them to do it even more.
No. Hermione was the personification of a strong, smart and independent woman. An image she had carefully curated in her day to day life. She would be strong for Harry. She would be strong for her parents.
She would not allow stupid feelings to slow herself down.
Taking a deep breath in, the girl pulled on a metaphorical mask over her face. Hiding underneath its constraints, not revealing what she truly felt deep inside of her very being.
"Because inside doesn't matter", muttered the same nagging voice inside of her head. The voice that stopped her from being more proactive in her social interactions in order to save her from embarrassment, failure and most horrifyingly.. Disappointment.
She began to make small talk with the Dursleys, trying to slow down time before she had to face Harry again. She had heard that doing something you hate made time feel like it was slower and to be quite frank, she needed all the time in the world to come down from the emotional high she had found herself in. She didn't think she could face the dark haired wizard right now without bursting into a fit of tears.
She was right, time did slow down. But not slow enough for her to not wince when she finally saw Harry's tall figure stride into the beige colored living room with his shoulders hunched and eye's fixed firmly to the floor.
Harry passed the first cup of tea to the oldest Dursley before proceeding to the much younger one. Each time, hastily passing it to them before snapping his hand back as if he had touched fire.
He finally reached Hermione, causing her to shiver slightly underneath his gaze. It looked like he was breaking down everything about her, before piecing it all back together as if she was a box of lego's strewn over the floor.
Harry, unlike his previous actions, gently laid her glass onto the deep dark wooden table in front of her instead of passing it to her normally.
Hermione muttered a few words of gratitude, but couldn't feel the dawning sense of fear and disappointment. Why had Harry not handed it to her normally? Like he had done for his relatives. Did he see her in a different light? Did he no longer see her as a trusted confidant?
"Of course he wouldn't Granger. Who could blame him? You're nothing more than his personal "homework helper". Do you honestly think he would have stuck any longer than what was necessary? You not being useful for the entire summer simply fastened the processes up. Good riddance, a girl like you deserves no one", suggested the voice in her head.
Hermione nodded in agreement. It was a very rational deduction.
Her eye's swam over Harry, trying to catch his eye within her own but Harry was having none of it. It was almost like she was a stranger.
She knew that this helped her execute her entire ruse, but she expected a bit more. Maybe a slight knowing glance to acknowledge that he even recognized her presence, but there was nothing. Radio silence.
Nearly half an hour passed by with the Dursley's showering her with compliments which did nothing to raise her spirits. Countless stories were also exchanged, some of them made her wish that she could use an obliviation spell on herself.
She really did not want to know about how Dudley did his bathroom business, out in the public when he was five.
This story in particular seemed to finally push the thoroughly embarrassed teen over the line, "Mum, I think you should go now", said Dudley with annoyance riddled in his tone.
Hermione expected Petunia to brush off his request, just like she had done to her but quite the opposite happened. The horse faced woman instantly lost the cheshire cat smile that she once wore on her face, her eyes seemed almost sad.
"Okay, Duddykins. Perhaps, you wish to have some alone time with your friend over here! I will go and bring you lot some snacks in the meantime! Harrykins, you want the beef jerky as always?"
Harry nodded, his face brightened up until he looked like a pale tomato. "Yes, Aunt Petunia", he said stiffly. He didn't seem to enjoy being called "Harrykins"
The older woman seemed to miss it, or more probably chose to ignore it as she galloped out of the room.
An awkward silence descended upon the teenaged trio. Not a word was spoken, with the only auditory input being the distant hisses of fighting cats.
"Mia Greenford, I think I will excuse myself. If that's fine with you", remarked the Potter as she stood up.
Hermione was barely able to respond before Dudley joined the conversation. "Yea whatever, Potter", wailing his fingers in a dismissive manner before turning his body a complete 180 degrees to face the brunette who sat next to him.
"You know, Mia. People call me "Big D" around here", declared Dudley smugly
"Oh alright", said Hermione signifying her acknowledgement
"They don't call me "Big D" for no reason, you know. Maybe, I can show you my "Big D" later", implied Dudley suggestively. Wiggling his eyebrows.
"That was honestly, very creepy. "Big D", contended Hermione forming quotation marks with her hands.
"Playing hard to get, I see", mumbled Dudley as drool dripped out of his mouth. "I like that"
He began to lean into Hermione, locking her beneath his large frame. The brown haired witch felt constrained and lethargic, with the small of her back pressed up against the cush of the couch.
"Get the fuck off her", growled an unexpected third voice as the sound of cloth being ripped filled the room.
She heard the couch wheeze in relief as Dudley was dragged off of it. The ripping had been his shirt, a tiny part of it broken.
Dudley locked his bulging eyes on Harry's threateningly, his mouth opened slightly.
Hermione knew what he was about to do, he was about to cry for his mother and get Harry punished for daring to stop him.
She squeezed her eye's shut to stop herself from feeling guilty for doing this to Harry. If only she had been able to control herself and not stroll right into the-
Nothing came, the expected whines of complaints did not come. She gingerly opened one of her eyelids, maybe Dudley had just popped out of existence! However as her eye's arrived at the horizontally large figure of Harry's cousin she realized her hypothesis was too good to be true. He hadn't disappeared, but he had been silenced.
She watched with curiosity as she saw Harry whisper something into Dudley's ears causing the boy to lose all color in his face and bolt out of the room.
"That was weird" thought Hermione. What could have possibly caused him to run out the room. Had Harry threatened him through the usage of magic? Which was not possible because of the underage restrictions placed on it.
Her mind began to whisk away into the realms of possibilities before reality dawned on her. She was now in a room with Harry. Alone. She could speak to him now. As Hermione Granger and not Mia Greenford.
She swallowed thickly as she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"You left me here… to rot", said Harry simply
She wanted to deny it, she wanted to tell him that she didn't leave him to rot but deep down she knew he was right. She couldn't change the past no matter how much she wanted to. She wanted to shout at Dumbledore and tell him that she didn't care about his orders and that Harry needed her, but that time had long gone. She was months late.
Her hands began to clam as she tried to find something to put everything right. Something. Anything. To fix the rift that now appeared between the two close friends. Her hair began to frizzle up in anxiousness as her mind slowly disappeared into nothingness.
So she did the one thing she was known for. Hug him.
Her petite figure ran past the room, jumping onto the wizard in order to tackle him into her bone crushing hug. She would make this right.
Hermione shut her eyes close with complete trust in Harry. She knew he would catch her, he always did.
She was finally right, after being very wrong for the last month.
She felt her head collide with his solid chest, arms rounding up around her in order to cancel out the momentum of her leap of faith.
The brown haired witch breathed in deeply, trying to take in as much of Harry's scent as she possibly could.
She smelled mint and.. Aftershave? When did Harry begin to shave?
Hermione felt herself swoon even more than she already had. Hermione LOVED the art of shaving. She had watched her father shave his stubble every morning and had instantly fallen in love with the whole ritual. It therefore came as a surprise when her dad explained to her that she would never be able to grow a beard, meaning that her dreams to shave every morning just like her father, would simply remain just that. Dreams.
However, that didn't stop her from shaving. Nothing could stop her from doing something she liked, especially her gender. Yes, she looked quite hilarious pretending to shave with soap lathered all over her face before going to school when she was a kid but she didn't care.
She had eventually grown out of her rather odd enjoyment of shaving an imaginary beard, but her love for the smell of the aftershave that her father would apply after he was done remained. She regarded it as something holy, contained within the bottle her father would occasionally buy.
She still held a personal grudge against her father for placing the aftershave on the highest shelf in order to stop her from getting to it, even though that crime had been committed before she was even able to ride her bicycle without training wheels.
But now, buried deep within Potter's strong arms. She couldn't help but find a renewed love for its scent, although it was self-admittedly in a different way than her initial interest in it.
She quickly snapped out of the mental trap though, she couldn't allow herself to get too close to Harry. Lest she wanted to get her heart broken twice in a single year.
Hermione stepped out of his arms and repeated apology after another apology. Out competing the letter of remorse she had sent to Professor McGonagall for not being able to attend her lecture because of a serious stomach ache.
She had even tried to make eyes bigger to get Harry to feel bad for her. Yes, she knew it was slightly manipulative but it had always worked on him before and she was willing to do anything to keep him. She really didn't fancy talking to Ron about quidditch for a second longer, she desperately needed Harry to fill in that post.
Harry however simply chuckled at her pout, causing her to falter during her very sophisticated manipulation tactic. Was it not working on him anymore?
"Hermione, look I am not going to stop being friends with you for what you have done. Unlike what your rant suggests, I haven't even gotten close to that line yet. I think the only thing that could truly get me close to do doing that, is if it were revealed that you were a cross dressing Voldemort and that says a lot", said Harry
Hermione's heart melted, ignoring the lame Voldemort joke. His declaration had caused her to find a new found trust in the validity of her friendship. Maybe she had over-estimated how mad Harry really was at her.
"But that isn't to say that I am bloody annoyed with you Hermione"
"There goes the final hope" thought Hermione. She couldn't blame him for it though, she should have known better. She should have been a better friend.
"Though I have to say, seeing my favorite witch after an entire summer apart makes me much too happy to take out my anger at you", finished Harry before twisting his mouth into a brilliant grin. Flashing his perfectly straight white teeth.
This drawed a squeal of happiness from Hermione who began to fill him up on everything she had been doing over the summer, of course she had excluded the small spats she had gotten with her parent's in order to come to Privet Drive and the fact that she had sneaked out of Aunt Jen's house without her parent's permission. During her rant, she realized that her little detour had taken a lot of time. Her parent's may have already reached home by then but she really couldn't care less at this point.
"Oh, your Aunt's house is around here you say?", remarked Harry curiously.
"Yes Harry. Honestly I would have been so brilliant if I could have stayed in this neighborhood with you, as it was originally planned for the entire summer until I was taken away to..", she stopped mid sentence because she remembered that the Order of the Phoenix was supposed to be confidential and as much as she despised having to follow Dumbeldore's orders, it made a bit of sense considering that it was a secret organization that had restarted after nearly two decades.
"Never mind!", she squeaked. She had to go now, she didn't want to disappoint Harry for a second time by stating that she had to keep hiding secrets from him. No, she was going to make a run for it, to make it seem that she simply didn't have time to finish her sentence.
"Harry, I really got to go, uh-uhm to the loo. Yes!", announced Hermione unconvincingly before sprinting out of the house. Ignoring Harry's pleas for her to stop.
"What's your address! HERMIONE! I WANT TO MEET YOUR AUNT!", he called out only to be met with silence. 'Mia Greenford' was already too far to hear his voice, Oliver would have forced her to join the team if he saw how fast she could run.
Harry's eyes fondly followed her figure, it all felt like a dream. He had just had his worst morning before being replaced by the best evening he could ever wish for.
Hermione had hugged him! Well, she used to do that before. But, he had never really appreciated how soft and delicate she was until now. "She would be such a great pillow", thought Harry absentmindedly as he was overwhelmed with a very intense need for sleep.
Who thought that lifting Dudley would be much more tiring than working in the backyard for hours on end?
He lazily dragged himself upstairs' ignoring his Aunt's humming of the latest beatle song which she publicly despised. Apparently she was in the dark about Mia Greenfords' early departure and he certainly was not going to be the one to break the news to her. It would mean that he would miss out on the beef jerky she was making and be the punching bag of her misplaced frustration.
His ears strained for any indication that Dudley was still within the physical realm, but nothing reassured him of that. The once loud and spluttering boy, was now deathly quiet.
He smiled at how he had so instantly wipe that smug face of the boy who had attempted to touch his Hermione.
"Potter, she is not "yours", drawled a snape-like voice
Harry ignored his alter ego, unlike Hermione he didn't care what people in positions of authority had to say about him and his decisions. Let alone an imaginary one.
All he cared about was the fact that he was able to leverage the fact that he knew about Dudley's criminal activities to silence his big mouth. Even though it didn't make him feel any better about not reporting his cousin to the police instantly.
Harry's calloused hands grabbed the cold steel surface of his door knob, twisting it much faster than the version of him a few weeks ago. The door creaked softly and revealed a room that he was proud of, his attempt to copy the Gryffindor common room may not have been the best but it was enough. It made him feel better.
However deep inside he knew that he was still not satisfied with the room, if he had it his way he would have plastered his bedside with Hermione posters. He really couldn't understand why Ron would decorate his room with posters of random quidditch players when you could simply admire Hermione.
Harry had found a temporary alternative. He had taken the newspaper clipping of him and Hermione snapped by Rita Skeeter and simply folded it, so that he was cut out from the picture and he could only see her pretty face. He never knew that he could feel grateful for Rita Skeeter's journalism, but here he was and he certainly wasn't complaining. Falling asleep with the face of magically animated Hermione repeating herself infront of him calmed him down, it was his own little version of the dreamless potion that he had been overloaded with right after the third task.
Hermione worked just as well or even better, without the dizzy side effects the next morning which was synonymous with the consumption of the potion.
He lifted up the picture frame and shyly pressed a kiss on it, he didn't know why he was still so embarrassed to do. Hermione was not here to witness it, no one was hopefully. It was harmless right! He wasn't hurting her by doing this.
If anyone would have thought of him to be pathetic for being embarrassed to kiss a picture of Hermione. He would have gone into overdrive to desperately hide the fact that he had even asked picture-Hermione permission to kiss her when he had begun with the strange ritual.
The strangeness of the 'ritual' however no longer mattered to him, he had always been described as "strange" from a young age. So the word had now begun to be synonymous with his own identity.
This didn't mean that he would go and admit this Sirius though, no that would terrible for his dignity. Harry wasn't strange enough to enjoy Sirius teasing him for being so afraid of girls that he couldn't have a proper conversation with a picture of one.
He placed the picture on the bed and dozed off, imagining his pillow as the brown haired witches lap. The oversized black hoodie that she wore, falling gracefully over his face. Her finger's stroking his hair carefully, sending him off to sleep.
Harry mewled in satisfaction as he felt himself losing in the battle to keep himself conscious. Keep himself sentient enough to enjoy the feeling of her pressed up against him.
The Potter soon found out much to his dismay that he did infact lose this battle.
It had been eerily quiet, which shouldn't have come as a surprise to him as he realized that it was dead night but that did not explain the loud thud that caused him to wake up from his slumber. He blinked repeatedly, trying to chase away the blurriness that came with taking a nap.
His pale hands grabbed onto the pair of round glasses which lay forgotten next to the animated picture of Hermione. What was that sound? His initial suspicion was that the sound was a byproduct of Dudley's midnight hunger for food but a gnawing feeling in his gut told him otherwise.
"Wotcher Harry", yelled a loud female voice.
Harry screamed in terror, only to see Tonks and multiple other faces that he recognized sitting in a corner of the cramped up room.
"OH MY GOD, WHY DONT YOU KNOCK?!", screamed Harry still not believing that he was seeing the first sign of witches and wizards in over a month other than Hermione
"Well we tried, Harry.. But you see", started Lupin. His mouth was turned up into a mischievous smile, but he looked almost sorry for the Potter boy.
"Hermione! HERMIONE! Your sooo hot!", moaned Tonks in a sing sing voice. Her bright pink hair turning into jet black.
Harry's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. "I didn't say that!", squeaked the Potter
"Mr. Potter, we all place the utmost trust in you and your word. That is why we are all here, to support your word that the Dark Lord had returned. However, we have been witness to some very incriminating evidence", chuckled the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt
"Yup, Potty. It's a surprise that you didn't wake up the entire neighborhood with all your moaning", said Tonks casually
"Could you please stop calling it that", said Harry weakly as he tried to hide himself to preserve any of the final shreds of dignity he still possessed.
"Watcha got there Har Har?", teased Tonks as she grabbed the picture on his nightstand only to be met with Hermione's face. "Harry you can't deny that you have a crush on her now, there's too much evidence", she giggled
"Look alright. She- She's like a sister to me. We are platonic sisters! I mean brothers, crap brother-sisters. I have never seen her in that way! Right, s- so why are you here?"
He was not met with an answer, rather he was nearly smacked on the face by the real Alastor Moody's walking stick.
"BOY, you CANNOT allow yourself to be so blinded by a girl. Do you really want to throw away the sacrifice of your parent's because your too busy ogling some poor girl? DO NOT EVER REPEAT THIS EVER AGAIN. Voldemort could have strolled into here and all you would have been doing was muttering her name, CONSTANT VIGILANCE POTTER", he barked
Harry simply nodded his head up and down rapidly as he gulped in fear.
"GOOD", the disfigured man spat before walking out of the room.
"Bloody mental that one is, the boy was simply having a wet dream!"
"TONKS", yelled the entire room at the pink haired woman
"Wot", she responded dumfounded