Chapter Thirteen
Hermione found it very easy to get lost in a book. In text she was all her strength, nothing of the gangly, ugly, unpopular, and at times insecure girl. She was her mind, and that was her greatest power. It was an indulgence to surrender to it. Admittedly, sometimes she escaped to it. It grew from that into an ability to hone in so singularly on what she was reading that the rest of the world was background noise to the words.
She was sitting on her bed reading a thick, heavy tome propped on her lap. Crookshanks was curled on her pillow behind and to the right of her, dozing with legs folded tight beneath him until he looked like a ginger ball of fur with slits for eyes and a piggish pink nose.
She'd completely lost track of the time, so when a soft knock came at her door she started as though someone had kicked it. Crookshanks popped open his eyes when her jump made the mattress move, but after a halfsecond survey merely closed his eyes again.
"Yes?" Hermione called.
The door opened and Harry stuck his head inside, his eyes searching the room and quickly settling on her.
"Harry! Back so soon?"
Harry frowned in bewilderment. "Soon? We were gone three hours."
Hermione glanced at her clock. He was right; she'd done it again. She laid her hands on the open pages of the guilty book. "Oh. Three hours?"
Harry sagged at the reminder and walked into her room. With dragging steps he crossed to her bed, fell forward, and lay perfectly still across the foot. Crookshanks roused again at the second jostling in less than five minutes and turned a glower on Harry (who, unable to see Crookshanks, was completely unmoved by the kneazle's displeasure).
Hermione snickered. "I'm so sorry, Harry." She suspected the snickering negated her words as far as sympathy was concerned.
Harry mumbled something but it was muffled by the comforter into which he had his face pressed.
Hermione snorted, leaned forward, and pushed on his shoulder. Harry rolled over on to his back. "I said I hope I don't have to do that again."
"I imagine not. Mum just hated seeing you wear those dingy old clothes of Dudley's. How much did you get?"
Harry raked both hands through his hair as though to dishevel himself enough would erase the tameness of the outing. "Not nearly half as your mum would have liked. But I don't need that much! I mean, your mum's really nice and probably not nearly as... 'enthusiastic' as Ron's mum would've been, but three hours, Hermione! I almost feel sorry for Dudley when Aunt Petunia takes him clothes shopping. They're always gone the entire day. To think I used to be even the tiniest jealous about that!" With a sigh Harry closed his eyes and Hermione watched in fascination as his features relaxed, his mouth softened, his whole body seemed to unwind and lay prone and loose in what might have appeared to be a precursor to sleep.
Crookshanks picked his way across the bed and sniffed delicately at Harry's face.
Harry screwed up his face and waved the cat away. "Crookshanks." The cat persisted, whiskers twitching against Harry's nose and chin.
"Did you and Mum stop for ice cream?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
Harry cracked open one eye at her while he continued to push at Crookshanks and seemed to question how she knew. "Yeah."
Hermione smiled. "Mum usually takes me after shopping, consolation prize I suppose; Crookshanks smells it on your breath. He loves ice cream."
"Well, next time I'll bring you some," Harry said. Crookshanks seemed to accept that and lay down on the bed beside Harry's shoulder. Harry absently pet the cat as he glanced over and only then noticed the book Hermione had on her lap. "What are you reading?"
Hermione closed the book and set it aside. "Oh, just something I checked out of the library before we left for holiday. Harry... I had an idea I wanted to run past you. Mind you, it's fairly stupid..."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, I don't honestly believe you're capable of stupid."
Hermione tried to quell the faint blush that threatened to tint her cheeks. "Well, I was just thinking... I thought maybe it'd be a good idea if we exercised this summer."
Harry frowned in silent question for her to elaborate, still idly petting the dozing cat.
Hermione continued, "I was thinking what we might do to... you know... prepare ourselves." She stopped and looked pointedly at Harry. There was seriousness in her tone and look that he interpreted immediately. He stopped petting Crookshanks and his body tensed, intent on her as he waited. He was listening closely now.
"Obviously, since we're underage we can't actually practice any spells or hexes or anything, not without getting into loads of trouble. So I was trying to think of what we might do that wouldn't require magic. That's when I thought of getting fit." Hermione ducked her head and looked bashful. "Okay, honestly, I thought about me getting in shape; you're already rather well off there. You have Quidditch and, well, much as a balls up it was, the tournament this year did keep you physically conditioned. I, on the other hand, spend all my spare time reading or doing homework. I'm not strong or fast, and I might need to be. And working the body works the mind, right?
"It would give us something to do with our days, too. We're nearly done with homework and when we finish it'll leave our entire evenings free. I was thinking maybe some running to build endurance, and I know Dad has a set of weights in the garage from a few years back when he and some of his mates from work thought they'd start their own rugby team. Complete rubbish, too, didn't last a month; just try to imagine a bunch of dentists playing rugby. But I'm sure he'd let us use the weights to trim up." Hermione took a breath and eyed Harry cautiously. "Well, what do you think?"
Harry mulled it over honestly, but it only took him three seconds. "I think it's a good idea."
"You do?"
Harry nodded. "Being the smallest contestant in the tournament really made me realize how much size and strength can be an advantage. Not the end all, of course, but it does help. I think we should."
Hermione brightened. "Oh, I was sure you'd think it was a silly idea." She jumped off the bed in a burst of energy, the compulsion to act, to set her plan in motion, "I'll go ask my dad now if he'd let us borrow them. Of course, we won't say why we really want to toughen up; I expect we could tell him you wanted to stay in condition for Quidditch next year and I just decided to join you. He wouldn't think twice about a bloke staying in shape for a sport."
"All right," Harry said, then he started and sat up, "oh, I almost forgot, umm..." he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tightly wadded plastic bag. He tensed and seemed to regard the package awkwardly. "This, uh... your mum." He held it out to her like it might explode if he didn't pass it off.
Hermione took the wadded bag but looked at it almost dismissively; it had nothing to do with her current project and she was loathe to actually take time away from her present mission. "What is it?"
Harry looked off to the side. "A bathing suit." He shifted on the bed. "Your mum said she figured your suits from last year would be too small."
Hermione frowned and debated looking inside the bag. The way Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable, wouldn't look at her, wouldn't even dare to look at the bag containing the swimsuit, did not imbue Hermione with confidence. She didn't want to think about how wretchedly ugly the thing must be. She quickly chose to ignore it for the time being. She tossed it on to her bed and pretended to completely forget it, "Okay, well, I'll leave that to later. Come on, let's go talk to my dad about his free weights."
Harry rose and followed Hermione out of her room, looking better to no longer have the offending swimsuit in his possession. In the hall they bumped into Miranda coming out of her bedroom, who looked in an inordinately good mood after the shopping expedition. "Hermione! Did you see the suit I got you? I thought you and Harry might like to go swimming this summer."
Hermione plastered on a smile while Harry stopped and went very still and very quiet behind her shoulder. "I love it, Mum, thanks. I did need a new one."
"I thought as much. And, Harry, I'm sorry if I was a bit much today."
"Oh, uh... that's okay, Missus Granger."
Miranda switched to addressing her daughter with a playful light in her eyes. "Once he started trying on clothes that actually fit I got a bit overzealous, I suppose." Hermione glanced at Harry and saw him cringe. Miranda, heedless, continued, "Don't know if you realize it, dear, but when you get past those ratty old clothes of his cousin's he's a good-looking boy."
Harry was blushing furiously.
"I know," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"I thought he could do with a fair bit more than we came away with, but Harry started looking a bit flighty. Thought it best to call it a day before he ran for it."
Hermione giggled. "Probably a good decision; Harry's a fast runner. If he made a break for it you'd never catch him.
"Mum, d'you know where Dad is?"
"Oh, in the back yard I think."
"Right then, come on, Harry," Hermione bade and headed down the hall. Harry wordlessly fell in step behind her, still embarrassed from the confrontation with Miranda and content to meekly trail after his best friend.
Before they hit the kitchen Hermione glanced back at him. "Did she make you buy new swim shorts, too?"
Harry, oddly reticent to discuss swim wear ('Merlin,' Hermione thought, 'how hideous is the suit Mum got me?'), shook his head. "No, I still have my trunks from the second task."
Hermione nodded then commented after a second of contemplation, "Well, actually, the idea of swimming isn't a bad one. Do you know what a good aerobic workout swimming is?"
Harry smirked. "Just promise there aren't any grindylows in your pool and I'll be happy."
"Do you think," Harry asked drowsily, "that it's possible for Binns to be haunting his homework assignment?"
Hermione looked up from her History of Magic textbook and nearly finished essay scroll. She and Harry had been working on their History of Magic homework since breakfast. They were sitting on opposite sides of the table located in the small but cozy library of the Granger residence; the library that doubled as an office complete with personal computer and mandible models of perfectly aligned teeth off to one side.
She frowned and looked at the parchment before Harry as though looking for evidence of possession. "Why?"
"Because this assignment is just as boring as he is; I can barely keep my eyes open." Harry dropped his head on to the table top, pressed his cheek into the open pages before him, and let his eyes slide shut.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Oh, honestly, Harry. We're nearly finished."
"And my arms are sore," Harry added without opening his eyes, as though weary muscles would excuse him.
Hermione huffed faintly and completed another sentence. "Please, there isn't a chance you're sorer than I. I don't know if I've ever lifted a weight before yesterday, I'm sure to be much worse off than you."
Harry's head popped up. "Oh, really?" he asked sarcastically, closed his History of Magic book, picked it up, and held it out to her. On reflex Hermione took it with one hand and turned it over a time or two before giving Harry an 'are you daft?' look.
Harry crossed his arms on the tabletop. "See? You don't need to have lifted weights. Those books weigh a stone easy, and you're always toting half a dozen of them."
Hermione set the book down and sighed. "We'll never finish at this rate."
"We have all summer, Hermione!" Harry grumbled.
"You're starting to sound like Ron."
"Oiy, I'm not that bad."
Hermione tapped the end of her quill against the parchment before her and scowled down thoughtfully at it. Harry sagged back in his chair. She chewed on her bottom lip then looked across at Harry again, this time calculating. Harry watched her warily, eyebrows rising with every passing second of silence.
Finally, Hermione put her quill down. "All right, let's take a break. I do want to get back to this today, though. It's our last subject, Harry, and if we finish today then we'll be completely done with homework for the holiday. I really think we ought to aim for that."
"Break sounds good."
Hermione almost painfully pushed her open book toward the center of the table in a gesture of dismissal. "Kimmy was making cookies earlier, I'll go nick us some."
Harry smiled. "Yeah, cookies sound much better than History of Magic."
She fought the urge to scowl and somehow it turned into an eye-roll and smile. "I'll meet you in your room in a few then."
Both rose and headed for the library door. Harry turned down the hall toward the bedrooms, Hermione toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was in impeccable order, the norm as of late (despite Miranda's best efforts to discourage both, she couldn't seem to keep Harry and Kimmy from cleaning up, almost to the point that every time her back was turned either Harry or the house elf was picking up around the place). A tray sat atop the counter near the oven with perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies awaiting consumption.
Hermione went to the cabinet, got out a plate, and began to transfer cookies to it. She glanced up and looked out the back window to the yard. Her mother was out working in the garden, on her knees and pulling at weeds. Hermione smiled. Her mother would love to be a regular Madam Sprout, but the truth was she'd never quite got the hang of horticulture. The garden was more of a side-hobby (and looked it) than anything.
Crookshanks was sitting off the one side of the garden and gardener, unusually interested in the menial task. The cat's tail flipped from one side to the other of its fluffy orange body, ears pricked and fixed on the unmanageable backyard jungle.
As Hermione watched Miranda tug and glower at weeds as though personally insulted, she froze when her mother suddenly lurched back away from the leafy patch as though struck.
Hermione dropped the cookie in her hand, rushed to the back door, and hurried to where her mother was getting to her feet, wiping grass and dirt from her clothes. "What is it, Mum?"
Miranda wiped her hair out of her face. "Stand back, Hermione. Better yet, fetch me the hoe."
Seeing that her mother was unhurt, Hermione looked toward the seemingly innocuous garden. "Why, what's wrong?"
Miranda bent down and peered into the garden plants without approaching too close. "A ruddy snake. Just get me the hoe, dear, I'll kill it. No worries."
Hermione's eyes widened with a sudden thought. "Oh, wait, don't kill it, let me get Harry."
"Harry? I'm perfectly capable of dispatching it myself," Miranda was calling after her daughter as Hermione sprinted back toward the house.
Hermione burst into the kitchen and called out, "HARRY!"
After a second Harry appeared from the hallway, looking startled. "What?"
"Come outside a moment, please? Mum's cornered a snake in the garden. Do you think you could coax it out?"
Harry looked at her a moment then shrugged. "I'll try."
Hermione and Harry met up with Miranda in front of the garden. Miranda was still searching from a safe distance for the intruding serpent but she straightened to look at Harry. "No, no, I can handle this, Harry. Stay back; it's a right nasty thing, went after me and nearly got me. Come away from there, Harry, I wouldn't want either of you bitten."
Hermione tugged on her mother's arm to hold her in place. "Let Harry, Mum. He's a parselmouth."
"He's a what?" Miranda asked as Harry stepped carefully toward the garden, senses alert to the noises from within.
"A parselmouth. It means he can talk to snakes."
"Good gracious!" Miranda gasped. "Shhh." Hermione chided, and both women fell silent and watched.
Harry knelt down at the edge of the garden and cocked his head, listening for the soft, sibilant notes of snake-language. Crookshanks rose from his sentry post a few paces away and stalked back and forth slowly, still watching the proceedings with particular interest. Hermione frowned and considered moving to collect her pet when a low, flowing sound just reached her ears and made her halt. It was coming from Harry as he sought to make contact with the hidden snake. Hermione had never told her best friend just how fascinating it was to hear him speak parseltongue... she'd only heard it once before, but hearing it again now made her heart jump into her throat in surprise and awe at the sound. She strained to hear every hissing rise and fall of his voice, desperately wishing she knew what he was saying.
Hermione startled when she saw movement near her foot but looked down only to see that Kimmy, in her dog guise, had arrived on the scene. She was watching Harry alertly, tensed and primed to jump in and come to his aid. Though Hermione had thought she had complete confidence in Harry, she found she was relieved that Kimmy was on hand. She returned to watching Harry squat down at the edge of the garden and call out gently to the animal still concealed within.
Miranda squeaked and held Hermione's shoulder tightly when a sleek, narrow head emerged from the squash plants and flicked a forked tongue at Harry. The brown snake stared directly at Harry with lifeless black eyes, tongue a darting red dash of color, and it gave a low hiss.
Harry hissed back, a bit louder, his voice still gentle and soft but stronger and clearer. He sat down and it seemed almost like a show of good will that he stand down from a stance of easy escape. The snake regarded Harry closely then emerged farther from the garden to move toward him. Kimmy took a single step closer then stopped and waited with everyone else. Crookshanks had also stopped pacing, his every sense locked on the snake.
Harry conversed a moment with the snake, glanced up at Crookshanks a few feet away, then lowered his hand to the ground in undeniable invitation and beckoning.
Miranda moved to grab Harry's shoulder and pull him back but Hermione held her mother fast.
The brown snake only waited a beat before calmly crawling up Harry's arm.
Harry looked toward Hermione and Miranda and said, "She was just in there hiding from Crookshanks."
"Crookshanks!" Hermione scolded the cat. Crookshanks, unperturbed and entirely unapologetic, sat down and began to clean one of his front legs.
Harry carefully rose to his feet with the snake draped on his arm and spanning from palm to crook of his elbow. "I'll just move her somewhere else. She didn't mean you any harm, Missus Granger, you just startled her, that's all."
"I startled her?"
Harry smiled, and it was as though he were sharing a joke with the snake rather than either of the women facing him. The serpent curled the tip of its tail around Harry's fingers.
Miranda shuddered. "Well, just go put it down, please? I don't like seeing you stand there holding that thing."
Harry nodded and carried the snake away from the garden. As he passed Crookshanks, the cat came to attention and turned to look after Harry, as though considering following to pounce on the snake when it was put down, then the cat seemed to decide the task beneath him and ambled off toward the house.
Kimmy sat down and scratched at her ear, half an ear still on Harry as he went to the edge of the property and let the snake go in a crack between the slats of the privacy fence.
Miranda breathed a noticeable sigh of relief when Harry turned to head back with the snake gone. Kimmy lay down on the ground and watched Harry in something closer to gentle bemusement, not terribly unlike the expressions Dumbledore often wore.
When Harry rejoined the Granger women he suddenly seemed to realize that he'd come back to something of a spotlight, one he hadn't noticed before when he'd been dealing with the snake. He tucked his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.
"Well, thank you for getting rid of that snake," Miranda said in a voice still holding the undercurrents of tension, "but I'd prefer you not do that again. I just dread to think of you being hurt handling one of those things."
"All right, Missus Granger, but she really wasn't... well, if she'd been verbally abusive I wouldn't have tried to pick her up, but she was a friendly enough..." Harry trailed when he saw the look of bewilderment on Miranda's face. He stopped and decided he should stop before he got any weirder in the eyes of Hermione's mother. "Yes, ma'am, I won't do it again."
"You don't judge him for talking to snakes?" Hermione said to her mother, aghast, in a tone of undisguised malice and disbelief.
Miranda, as well as Harry, was surprised by the defensive rancor in the way Hermione addressed her mother. Miranda blinked at her daughter, as though too shocked by her outburst to decide if she should discipline her daughter for using it. "No," Miranda replied lowly, looking as though the emotion she was settling on was confusion, "I don't. It's not the talking to snakes that upsets me, dear, it's the picking them up."
"Oh," Hermione blushed and looked away. Her gaze skittered momentarily to Harry's and she looked even more embarrassed. "Sorry, Mum... I shouldn't have... it's just, at school..."
At that moment Harry realized what had spurred Hermione's sudden ire, recognized it was on his behalf that she spoke out so, and because it was in his defense he felt obligated to show his appreciation for her concern by at least smoothing things over between Hermione and her mother.
"Just some people at Hogwarts think that me talking to snakes means I'm evil," Harry provided. Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed. Miranda looked a long moment at Harry.
"Which is absolute rubbish," Hermione said, "but Harry's had some trouble with it." She gave a shrug and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
For a second Miranda looked absolutely thrown. Then she merely looked resolute. "Honestly, how anyone could think you're evil baffles me," Miranda stated point-blank. Her voice lost the edge and clip it had held since being startled by the snake and it was the luncheons voice when she said softly to Harry, "You've been nothing but a pleasant young man the whole time you've been here; I can't fathom how anyone could think you were a bad person."
Harry smiled laconically. "Thanks. You're actually in the minority, more people disagree with you than agree with you, but what you think matters more, so... yeah, thanks." Harry became increasingly uncomfortable as he talked, and by the end of his sentence he was rubbing at the back of his neck and watching the grass.
"Well, then!" Hermione jumped in, so abruptly and loudly in an effort to spare Harry and redirect conversation that Miranda's head whipped around to look at Hermione and Kimmy jumped up to her feet. "Come on, Harry! We have homework to finish. We best get to it."
Harry deflated. "Ohhhh... Hermione... come on. One more minute of History of Magic and I might turn evil."
Hermione paused only fleetingly at the way Harry joked about what seconds ago had been a very awkward, serious topic. Then she went with it. "Oh, you won't, you haven't it in you, and we're nearly done, Harry."
Harry seemed to recognize a lost battle from the onset and looked toward Miranda with open appeal in his eyes.
"Hermione, honey, you have the rest of the summer to finish school work."
The look on Hermione's face said 'that's no excuse', but she restrained herself from blurting those precise words. "I know, Mum, but... well, it's our last subject and we're more than halfway through and..."
"Yes, dear, but couldn't you finish it later this evening?"
"I suppose."
Miranda glanced at Harry, saw his appreciative smile, then turned back to Hermione, "Why don't you take Harry down to the park?"
Hermione, whose head was hung in dejection at having to put off a nearlycomplete task, looked up at her mother and her expression changed. She looked fired up again, excited and eager Hermione. "Oh! Would you care to, Harry?"
The park sounded loads better than the seventh century troll war and he quickly said, "You bet."
"And you two can just do your homework later tonight," Miranda added as a concession to Hermione's studious nature. Hermione seemed appeased, especially once this excursion to the park was mentioned as a substitute activity.
"Okay."
Miranda patted her daughter's shoulder, turned her head toward Harry and gave him a wink, then left the two teens standing together.
"Well, let's go, I'll just grab a book and..."
"Umm... Hermione? If we're going to the park why do you need a book?" Harry asked.
Hermione stopped cold. Her expression was momentarily blank, as though his question beyond rational thought, then her lips parted, her eyebrows knit, and she tensed. The notion of not taking a book obviously hadn't occurred to her. "Oh, um... right. Silly me. Nevermind. Come on, the park's a walk from here."
Harry took up at Hermione's side. Kimmy hurried alongside, clearly intent on accompanying them. They went through the yard gate, cut across the front yard, and Harry dropped back a half-pace from Hermione to let her lead as she started them down the sidewalk away from the Granger house. Kimmy trotted alongside, head turning from side to side, and it looked so much like an average, eager dog on a walk, that Harry marveled at Kimmy's manner, when he knew in fact she was alert for any indication of danger.
Hermione cast a smirk down in Kimmy's direction, clearly having also noted the dog's well-played ruse. "Do you expect she keeps in touch with Dumbledore?"
Kimmy threw a look over her shoulder at them but quickly returned her attention to trotting just ahead of Harry and Hermione.
"Dunno," Harry mused in reply as he kicked a stone in his path with the toe of his shoe. He glanced at Hermione and saw a look of concentration on her face as she looked down intently at the Chihuahua. He knew Hermione well enough to know when she had something on her mind by her expression. "What is it?"
Hermione quickly shook her head. "Nothing. Are you terribly bored, Harry?" she turned her head to look at him and it threw Harry a moment.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we've done an awful lot of homework; I know you said it was okay, but maybe I was a bit... forceful." She blushed ever so slightly, and even if Harry had been disgruntled before he couldn't speak a word against her after that pink flush.
"But we're almost done," he threw back her own words at her.
"We are nearly done, just this last bit of History of Magic, then perhaps we could do something you want to do. Is there anything you'd care to do?"
Harry frowned and they walked in silence a few moments. "Not really, I wouldn't know what to suggest. 'Fun's not a word I normally associate with summer."
Hermione scowled, and it had the Dursleys written all over it.
"And I have had a good time so far. Your parents are really nice, and it's a relief... well, I guess because you're the only one who really knows what happened end of term, it's the farthest I can get from... everything, without cutting off completely. And I always thought that was the hardest part of summer, cutting off completely."
Hermione moved closer to his side and very briefly squeezed his arm. "Oh, I know, Harry. Every summer it's like you just stop existing as little as your aunt and uncle let you send and receive owls, I hate that part of summer."
Harry swallowed and his heart skipped. It wasn't exactly the 'hardest part' he'd meant... or maybe it had been. When he tried to think of how to explain it better there weren't words that would disagree with hers.
As though the moment had passed, Hermione moved back away from Harry and he found breathing easier. "Well, we could go swimming," she suggested.
"Umm... yeah. We could."
"Bit of bad luck that you can't fly here, though. I know you love doing that at the Burrow."
Harry kept meaning to write Ron about that but it continued to slip his mind until Hermione got that look on her face that she wore now. That unworthy, second-rate down-trodden frown.
"I'd probably be flying in Romania with dragons right now if I'd vacationed with the Weasleys, and I really don't fancy that idea. And I wouldn't have been able to fly at the Dursleys' at all. Trust me, Hermione, your home is a huge improvement. You're lucky, you know."
Hermione looked sincerely at him, her eyes barely misted with tears, and it held the agony she felt for him. For every act of neglect, every abuse, every wretched moment of Harry's childhood. Harry wasn't sure he could take her generosity, and he didn't know how to turn it down, either... not from her. He could only offer a half-shrug and immediately afterward looked away; it was an inadequate answer to his early life's miseries and he knew it as well as she.
They continued on in silence until a spread of grass, an open field ringed by benches and trees, came into sight. Children's playground equipment had been erected in various locations, seemingly with no planning, the building as haphazard as the children who would play there.
Hermione's step quickened and Harry, smiling at her enthusiasm, kept pace. Kimmy broke into a slow jog to keep up. There were a handful of children there with their parents, draping and hanging and dangling from the various pieces of brightly-painted equipment. It was almost jarring to see kids playing, so happy and care-free and so amazingly unaware of the danger that had been unleashed on the world only weeks ago. How could an evil that strong exist where joy this pure still cavorted? It was almost obscene, but the children played and their parents watched on proudly.
Hermione clearly had a destination in mind. "I used to love coming here when I was little; before I went off to Hogwarts Mum worked part-time, so she'd come home from the dentists' office a bit after lunchtime, pick me up from day school, and we'd more often than not come here. My favorite was the jungle gym." She had them skirting the playground, keeping to the edge composed of benches and foliage like flanking wolves. Harry and Kimmy followed without protest. "When I was older and allowed to come here on my own, when I wasn't in my room studying I was here.
"Here, this is my spot," she stopped at a weather-beaten, use-worn wooden bench, tucked under the canopy of a maple tree to the right and with shrubberies at the left. It was well-shaded but a bit far from the playground proper... it was just the kind of out-of-the-way retreat Hermione would like.
Hermione turned to Harry and smiled.
Kimmy made a quick circle of the bench with her head down near the ground. When she'd made a circuit she stopped in front of the two teens, sat down, and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"It's a nice park," Harry said, though for the most part he couldn't pry his eyes from the glow suffusing Hermione's face. "I don't think there's anything close to this in Little Whinging."
"It is lovely," Hermione said as she took a seat on the bench like it was her right, as though she'd always owned it. She looked out over the park, lingered on the children playing, her expression one of peaceful reminiscing. "I made the decision to attend Hogwarts here."
Harry was immediately more alert. The decision to attend? To him there'd been no question, no decision to be made, it was almost a force of nature impelling him to go. He couldn't fathom the possibility of not going.
Hermione glanced up at him and saw the bewildered look on his face. "Wasn't it a bit scary for you? When you found out?"
Harry sat down next to Hermione and thought hard. "I don't know. I'm not sure if 'scared' was ever the right word. It was... I didn't really feel I had any other choice but to go to Hogwarts. It was my chance to find someplace I might belong. There wasn't even a second when I considered not going... I thought Hagrid might have had me mistaken with someone else, and I think I was afraid that he was wrong and it would be snatched back before I ever had it, but it was never a matter of convincing me to leave. I had to go."
"I can see how it would be that way for you. It was different for me. I thought I knew where I belonged, I thought I knew where my life would go, I'd even mapped out what schools and universities I'd attend... but there was just the little fact of this magic in me, this ability that made me different and that I could never rightly factor in to my plans. And then I got my letter and I thought 'maybe if I go I can sort this part of me out'. I just wanted that part of me to finally make sense." Hermione paused then looked at him. "When did you know you'd found it? Where you belonged."
"That first time I rode a broom." A smile touched his lips at the mere memory.
Hermione smiled back, remembering that day very well. "For me, it was the first time I cast a spell, the first time I was able to control it. It was right. I knew then that I couldn't pretend I wasn't a witch, that it wasn't just a condition I'd been born with that I could ignore or 'overcome'. It was who I am. And then when you and Ron saved me from the troll... I knew I'd found home."
"Yeah... that too," Harry said as he recalled that first time the three of them faced outlandish danger and come through a trio. It had been the three of them ever since, most definitely a life-changing mishap.
Hermione's brow was knit in thought. "You know, I always felt closer to you in that than I did to Ron. I don't imagine he knows what it's like to search for your identity and have to go to another world to find it. It's an awful lot to ask of children, don't you think?"
"I think it's a lot to ask of anyone."
Hermione nodded. "But then, I wouldn't give up magic for anything. It's given me so much."
He looked at her. "Me too."
They lapsed into a moment's silence and turned to watching the children play.
"I don't want to give up this, either," Hermione said bluntly then she followed it up with a far-away look in her eye. "Can we still have bits of this world, even if we just borrow it? Is that greedy?"
"Not if you want it, Hermione."
She smiled to herself, slow and wise, and she turned to look at him. "Promise me we'll be sitting here on this bench together same time next year?"
Harry froze. He knew what she was really asking. She was demanding a vow that neither of them would die, that they'd come through whatever awaited them. She wanted a promise that this park would still be here, the bench still standing, the children still playing. He couldn't guarantee that. He couldn't promise it, she knew he couldn't. In the next second, her face reflected it. She looked down, turned her head away, and Harry wished he could promise her, wished he could say they could plan a year ahead... but they couldn't. Not now, not with Voldemort back.
"If I'm still breathing, I'll be with you," he finally said. It was the best he could offer, and by no means reassuring, but he couldn't lie and say a year wouldn't make much difference. It might be the difference between life and death.
Hermione looked back at him, visage aged beyond her years with understanding. "Thank you, Harry... I know that's all I can ask. I just... hoped."
"Maybe someday we can. You know, make those kinds of promises. For now, I don't want to make you a promise I don't know that I can keep."
"You're right. And if I'm breathing..." she trailed, not with uncertainty but staggered with the weight of its meaning.
Harry felt it rush into him and settle in strange, safe-guarded places. He nodded.
For a long time they sat quietly and watched the oblivious children frolic in the open grass, swing from the monkey bars, slip down the slide, tumble and tussle and laugh like there was no room for evil in the world. The two teenagers under the maple tree kept their peace, gave no hint of the fallacy all the others held.
"We should come here more," Harry said out of the blue.
Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you like it."
"We should probably bring drinks next time, though."
"Oh, if you're thirsty there's a water fountain over there," Hermione pointed to the right.
"All right, be right back," Harry got up and Kimmy jumped to her feet like a soldier ordered to attention.
Hermione watched him leave, Kimmy on his heels, and once he was out of sight let her mind wander. Though she didn't want to, she let it linger on the end of term. She ruminated on the kind of present and future they would face when they returned to Hogwarts in the fall. She couldn't help but imagine the kind of danger Harry might have to face, and she was bound and determined to somehow help him.
"Oooo, lookie here, Grace."
Hermione had been so lost in thought that the unexpected voice surprised her. When the familiarity struck her she tensed. She knew the source only too well.
Two girls close to her own age had approached Hermione and stood before her like the boar statues flanking the entrance of Hogwarts. Their unflinching manner was the only similarity between the girls and any physical ugliness. Grace Walters and Belinda Hernandez. Hermione had attended grade school with them, before she went off to Hogwarts, and even then Grace and Belinda had been the prettiest girls in school. The girls' parents had held both girls back a year, so they were a year older than all the other girls in their class, and that additional year of physical maturity had always been apparent. Time had only been kinder as they grew. When Hermione looked up she felt a simultaneous stab of jealousy and spike of fear to see that her two former tormentors were even more beautiful than before.
Grace was a slim, delicate girl with golden blonde hair, an almost china-fine bone structure, pale blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a way of moving and carrying herself that had always made boys into idiots. And she knew it. She had a ballerina's poise, even as she stood in the middle of a park, arms folded, and sneered down at Hermione.
Beside her, Belinda was Grace's equal in looks for entirely different reasons. Where Grace was built like a runner, Belinda looked like a pageant queen. She had developed early and from looks of it she'd never stopped. She was curved like a woman, seeming to have skipped the awkward phase of adolescence. Her skin was flawless olive, black, shiny hair falling in waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her heart-shaped face, full mouth, and chocolate-brown eyes completed the set that was Grace and Belinda. The joke had always been that between the two of them was everything a boy could ever want.
They had been a source of anguish for Hermione for nearly as long as she could remember.
"Hi, Granger Mouse," Belinda said in a sultry, cold tone.
Hermione wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. "Belinda, Grace."
Belinda glanced at her fair accomplice and snickered, "This doesn't seem quite right, now does it?"
Grace looked down her perfect nose at Hermione. "You're right... something's off. Oh! I know! What, no book, Mouse?"
Hermione's hands closed around the bench as though to flex her fingers would make a book appear. Something to hide behind.
"I thought you'd have to detach your arm to put down your books," Belinda smiled too-sweetly.
"Though you'd think," Grace piped in, "that if she were going to free her hands she'd bother to find a brush."
"It's dreadful, isn't it? I mean, just no effort. Not that any amount of effort in the world would do a bit of good, but at least an effort!"
"Would you like us to talk to your parents, Mouse? I'm sure Belinda and I could convince them to pay for some finishing school, because whatever they're teaching you at this private school of yours..."
"... it is a bit... well, embarrassing, you know. But we'd put in a word for you, because it's not fair. We know that you don't know any better."
"Not your fault you're unkempt."
"Leave her alone."
All three girls turned abruptly at the voice. Hermione's eyes widened. Harry was standing on the far side of the maple tree, having just returned from getting a drink. He was glaring darkly at Grace and Belinda. Hermione was taken aback by the low, threatening tone of his voice. Belinda and Grace were taken aback by his manner... they'd never been addressed by a boy with anything less than fawning attention.
Harry tore his eyes from the two girls to glance down at Hermione, and for the brief second he was looking at her his eyes were kind rather than dangerous.
Harry slowly, deliberately returned his eyes to the two girls.
Belinda recovered first, quickly finding her comfort zone, boy-manipulation. "Well! What's this? Does Granger have a boyfriend?" Her gestures were flirtatious, her eyes solicitous, her voice honey-smooth. Grace cast Hermione a condescending, scoffing look.
Hermione squirmed for Harry's sake.
"What of it?" Harry growled.
Hermione's mouth hung open. For a second, so did Belinda's and Grace's.
"Oh! No, it's wonderful, really," Belinda batted her dark lashes at Harry and ran an errant hand over her gorgeous hair. Hermione was sick to her stomach. She'd seen more boys fall to these ploys than she could count. Belinda and Grace could get away with anything when it came to the male gender. Boys lost their minds for those two, and Harry was, after all, just a boy. A teenage boy faced with two ungodly beautiful girls. It was nauseating to have to watch him fall to their wiles, too.
"I'm Belinda, by the way. This is Grace."
Harry would go for Belinda, she was his type. More Cho Chang than Grace. Grace had a Fleur Delacour look to her, and veela wasn't really Harry's style. Ron would have been a goner for Grace, but Harry'd pick Belinda.
Grace uncrossed her arms and smoothed her hands down her shirt... as if in an absent gesture but the deliberateness of it gave away Grace's effort to draw Harry's eyes to her body. "We were just surprised; I'm sure you understand. Mou-oh, I do mean Hermione here... well, never one much for the boys, that one."
"She's just such a bookworm, you know, always with her nose in some smelly old book, and it'd be hard to notice boys with her bushy head stuck in a book," Belinda laughed lightly at her own joke.
Hermione didn't want to endure the humiliation of watching Harry lose his mind, like all the boys did, and take their side because he wasn't thinking. Take their side against her. She had to expect it, she was nothing compared to the two girls currently slandering Hermione left and right, and all her life, constantly before Hogwarts and every holiday since, she'd seen it happen. She'd seen Grace and Belinda chew through guys like candy. Always before it had been watching other boys, boys who never talked to her anyway, trip over themselves. It was so mortifying, dehumanizing, for it to suddenly be Harry.
Harry took a step forward, out of the shadows of the tree trunk. Hermione sagged in her seat.
Grace grinned slyly and added, "I don't know, though... glasses, that hair... well, maybe you're the perfect guy for her."
Hermione knew this dance. Grace had recognized, with her almost precognitive ability involving boys, that Harry would favor Belinda. She was clearing the way for Belinda to make the kill. It was a game with these two, test the waters, find the guy's pleasure, play to it.
"Oh! stop that, Grace. Honestly, she's terrible, pay her no mind. Personally, I'm wondering how Herm here snagged you."
Hermione braced for what was to come.
"She wasn't a tart."
Hermione looked up at Harry. Belinda and Grace looked just as stunned. They could not have looked more aghast if Harry had walked up and slapped them. He was staring angrily at both girls, and it seemed only then that Belinda and Grace realized their prey hadn't just been hard to get, he'd been hostile. Toward them. It was possibly their first encounter with such a reaction, their first taste of rejection.
In the next second, it turned both beauties ugly.
Belinda's face hardened and darkened. "I don't get your meaning."
"I'm sure you don't. I always liked smart girls," Harry retorted.
Belinda and Grace looked murderous.
Hermione stood, desperate to end this. "Harry..."
"Yes, Harry," Belinda said in a feral voice. "Tell us what else about Hermione Granger gets you hot. How exactly does a knock-kneed, bushy-haired, bucktoothed little bookworm turn you on? Scandalous, the things she must do..."
Hermione would have gasped with indignation, at the insinuation, but Harry stopped her cold. He stopped her without saying a single word. It was nothing Belinda or Grace noticed, they were aware of nothing beyond the blue fire in his eyes, because the building surge of energy was magical. Hermione felt it press against her skin like the front of an electrical storm; it was like a physical force trying to push her back, making her hair stand on end and her heart begin to race. It crackled and swelled and Hermione knew only that something was about to happen, something uncontrolled and undeniably powerful. It was billowing out of Harry like waves fit to burst through their concrete dam walls.
Before the bubble of energy popped, to unleash god knew what, Kimmy lunged at Belinda, sank her teeth into the girl's ankle, and Belinda gave a piercing scream.
Harry blinked and the moment of impending something ebbed away.
"OH! Wretched bloody beast, get off of me, you filthy little..." Belinda kicked at Kimmy, who released her hold on the girl and jumped back to start barking incessantly at the top of her tiny lungs. When the moment broke Hermione had rushed to Harry's side without realizing she'd moved from the bench. How she thought she could forestall that force that had threatened to erupt, how she thought she could control Harry in any way, she didn't know, but she was impelled to try.
Grace helped Belinda hobble away, both cursing like nasty sailors. Once they were gone Kimmy stopped barking and turned sharply to look at Harry, little feet braced apart and green eyes piercing. There was a definite 'come with me' presence to the small dog's stance.
Hermione breathed in deeply and swallowed. Her heart was still hammering; she looked at Harry and saw him staring down at the grass, body tense, and an intent expression on his face.
Hermione moved her hand to touch him, hesitated, then let her fingers brush his forearm. Her skin prickled like she'd touched a static charge. Harry glanced at her and Hermione gave a wordless head jerk in the direction that would lead back to the Granger house.
Harry looked down at Kimmy, back at Hermione, then sighed and visibly forced himself to relax. Kimmy started off and Harry and Hermione followed.
Kimmy forced them to keep a brisk pace on the walk home, and it helped to keep any thoughts of conversation to a minimum. When they reached the Granger residence Kimmy waited impatiently at the front door for Hermione to let them in. Jake and Miranda were in the living room, on the couch and watching the telly, when the trio trooped into the house. They looked up in surprise when Kimmy made a beeline for the middle of the living room floor, whirled to face Harry and Hermione, and in an instance went from dog to house elf.
"Oh! That could have been bad! Very, very bad!" Kimmy cried.
Miranda frowned and looked between the three. "What? What could have been bad? What happened?"
Kimmy was pacing the floor, muttering to herself "very, very bad" while Miranda and Jake looked to the teenagers for answers. That neither teenager looked as though they'd been hurt it was turning the whole scene very confusing.
It was Harry who volunteered, "I almost lost control of it."
Jake looked sideways at the restless elf. "Of Kimmy?"
"Of my magic."
Dead silence fell over Hermione's parents as they stared first at Harry, then questioningly at Hermione.
Miranda took the remote, turned off the television, and looked gravely at the kids. "What happened?"
"I'm sorry," Harry said, head down and arms crossed in front of his chest defensively. "I was mad. Sometimes when I'm really angry my magic gets away from me."
"It was my fault," Hermione blurted.
"No, it wasn't," Harry said sharply.
"It was!" Hermione looked at her parents. "Harry and I were at the park and Grace Walters and Belinda Hernandez started making fun of me. Harry got in the middle of it."
"That could have been very bad!" Kimmy yelped again.
"Grace Walters and Belinda Hernandez?" Miranda repeated, "those are the girls²"
"Yes," Hermione answered quickly.
Miranda looked then to Harry, something between caution and appreciation in her gaze.
"You could have set a tree on fire!" Kimmy yelled.
"But nothing... um... unusual did happen, right?" Jake asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Kimmy intervened before... before anything happened."
"Could have turned the merry-go-roundy into scrap metal!"
"Whoa," Jake threw a look at Kimmy. "Is that sort of thing likely to happen?"
"Has anything like this happened before?" Miranda asked carefully.
"Just... just once... I kind of wrecked my aunt and uncle's kitchen, then I blew up my Aunt Marge."
"Blew her up?!"
"Not like 'exploded'," Hermione threw in, "more like... expanded."
"Could have hurt a little one!"
"Isn't that why you came here with Harry?" Miranda asked the frantic house elf with a note of concern but also confusion.
Kimmy stopped, blinked globe-shaped eyes at Miranda, then turned to face Harry with a renewed calm. "Missus Granger is right, Kimmy's here to guard against this." She sat down on the floor and for the first time looked naked without a pair of boxer shorts on. "I'ms sorry, Mister Harry Potter. This is Kimmy's job. Kimmy knew of Harry Potter's fame, but didn't expect his power. Master Albus should have told me. Kimmy knows now, I'll be watchful for it now."
"I didn't mean to nearly lose it," Harry confessed weakly.
"Just so long as no one was hurt," Miranda said.
Harry began to pull away from the gathering. "Um, excuse me, I'll just be in my room." "Harry..." Hermione called, like a plea but she had nothing to follow the mere utterance of his name.
"Harry,"
Miranda said gently, "we're not going to punish you, you don't have to shut up in your bedroom."
"I know, I just... I guess I'd like to be alone for a while."
Hermione frowned but didn't push. When no one else raised a protest Harry escaped into the hall. Shortly afterward they could hear his bedroom door open and shut. Thick, penetrating silence fell over the Grangers and worried, repentant Kimmy. No one seemed to know what to say.
For the first time all day, Hermione couldn't care less about finishing her History of Magic essay.