At #4 Privet Drive the atmosphere was strained to say the least. Harry Potter had been returned for less than an hour and was already considering leaving.
"Aunt Petunia, would you and Uncle Vernon prefer that I was dead?" he repeated the question since she hadn't answered the question the first time. The fact that there was another long pause instead of immediate reassurances was not lost on the young lad.
"Well, you see..." she looked over at Vernon hoping he had some idea how to answer this question. There were certain things they couldn't afford to have him learn. "What I mean is, we want you here and it would be better."
"We don't have time for your stupid questions boy. We are giving you a place in our home that is better than fr... you deserve," Vernon's hostile tone was clear to him.
"Interesting, you can't even lie to me about it," Harry turned on his heel and went back upstairs to the smallest bedroom. It was filled with junk he had to push aside before he could even drag his trunk through the door. The two broken bicycles he moved were likely put there with that intent.
'I wonder why I am even here then,' Harry's brow creased as he frowned. 'The only reason I am here is Dumbledore, and he only is trying to protect me from some terrorists. If Voldemort is so obsessed with me then the Death Eaters are also likely to be obsessed with killing me. That means I am not safe since he has found me twice at Hogwarts and tried to kill me at least three times and my friends are getting hurt. I need to be better able to defend my friends.' With this in mind he slowly began to organize the room, sorting and stacking junk and broken things lost past use until he had cleared the bed and gathered up the various clothing and other laundry items. Without a word he carried the sheets and a load or two of Dudley's cast off clothing, which would be all that he got this year, out to the wash room.
Having gotten that started and settled he began catching up on the chores the rest of the household had put off for him to do. He fixed two light switches a dripping faucet and then began weeding the garden and flower beds. The rest of the family went for dinner as he was finishing up resetting some ornamental rocks and washing them per instructions.
He finally headed upstairs to wash up for bed. Just as he was about to try to go to sleep, he heard the front door open and Dudley noisily exclaim that he was too full to move from the couch.
Petunia immediately went to the icebox where she checked the carefully laid thread across the top of the door to see if the freak had stolen some of their good food. He was quite sneaky sometimes. Disappointed at not finding him violating that particular rule, she took the remainder's box from their dinner and left it outside the door of his room.
She didn't miss the quiet click of his door opening to get the food before she even reached the bottom step. Vernon would be by to lock him in for the night soon. She wondered if the boy would run away, not quite as dismayed as Vernon at the prospect. The boy brought back memories and feeling she absolutely hated.
Early the next day Vernon went for his morning constitutional, quietly unlocking the door so he could yell at Harry for not being prompt with breakfast. The pattern continued throughout the next few days as Harry worked from 5 to midnight each day. Vernon and Petunia took turns unlocking his door and relocking later.
Finally at the end of the week Harry managed enough free time to put his letter to Hermione in the mail.
Dear Hermione,
I hope you are enjoying your holiday so far. I miss you but want you to be having a good time. I can't thank you enough for your help with my canine friend late in the year as my life would be somewhat smaller if certain things had gone according to the ministry's plan. I still wonder why the headmaster had so little influence or perhaps I question it slightly.
I have been questioning a lot of things lately. I asked my aunt and uncle if they wished I was dead the other day because it seemed that every time they spoke it was worse than Malfoy's attempts to hurt you. There must be something I am missing since they still have me stay here.
Do you realize I have been in danger multiple times every year we have had school and each time I brought you in it with me. I am fast coming to believe that your life would be extended if you didn't hang around me so much but it also makes me realize how little my life would mean at your absence. I hope that I never do anything to drive you away since you are my best friend. The fact that you are a cute girl is just added dessert to the mix. I know that it appears I don't notice, but I have always noticed your more attractive traits. I am not as blind as all that you know.
Speaking of blind, I wonder if there is a way I could get away from glasses. They are a pain and I probably will die someday because I can't find them at the worst possible time. Sorry for rambling but you did say you wanted me to write more and I realize that some things, like how much I like you, are far easier to write than to say. I mean, other than my parents from when I was fifteen months old, you gave me my first hug. You also showed me what it meant to care about someone else and I can NEVER repay you for that. Is it any wonder that I want to spend my years trying to pay off that debt?
Well one more thing is on my mind and I desperately want to talk to someone about it, so I thought I would see if the brightest person I know could be convinced to call me tomorrow at seven. I am pretty sure I will be alone in the house.
Always yours,
Harry Potter
Hermione was busy finishing up a particularly good book when she heard Hedwig at her window. She gave Hedwig a treat and some water then tore open the letter and walked downstairs absently reading it. She had just reached the bottom of the stairs, oblivious to Olivia Granger who was waiting for her to move so she could carry some linen upstairs. Suddenly the girl let out an 'eep' and sat down hard. Her face showed a rush of emotions and she started to hyperventilate.
"Calm down dear," her mother cautioned. "Is everything all right?"
Completely ignoring her mother's question a slow smile spread across her face and she turned around and ran back upstairs to get her parchment and pen.
'Oh my, I think he likes me,' she thought. She knew she would never win a beauty contest and that everyone thought she was far to bossy, but she had always read that love was not predictable. 'Maybe I am just reading too much into this. I need to write him back. I wonder what he needs. I had better call him tomorrow. I hope he can get to the phone.' Her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she thought about crafting her letter back but then realized that she would be talking to him before he could get it, or close to it.
An hour later her father came home and at almost the same time she heard the call for dinner. As she was still thinking she came down to dinner but it was almost over before her contemplation was interrupted.
"Mark, your darling daughter received a letter today."
"So that is what is wrong with her. Must be fairly serious," he looked fondly at his daughter, expecting to hear her rebuttal. She hadn't even heard them. He could see her mind working as she seemed to be having some sort of internal dialog or war, he was not sure which.
"I am somewhat surprised. I mean she is just a girl still." He turned his thoughts inward for a while and considered his daughter. Olivia was used to his contemplative nature and so expected a quiet meal. She would be giving her friend Eve, who had three daughters, a call later tonight.
"Pass the vegetables sweet-pea," Mark said absently to his daughter. He was looking to keep a better meat to vegetable ratio and realized that Hermione had left the dish at her elbow. He waited patiently for a minute or two, still wondering how bad this phase was going to be.
"Hermione, the vegetables please," his voice was raised slightly, trying to break through his daughter's hazy thoughts.
"Hermione!" he raised his voice a bit louder to no affect.
"Hermione Jean!" her mother's voice sounded angry.
The bowl of vegetables slowly lifted up from the table and floated to her mother who carefully took it out of the air with a surprised expression, watching as her daughter left the table and headed back upstairs.
"Mum," she stopped and looked back from the bottom of the stairs, "we aren't doing anything tomorrow night are we?"
"We are going with the Caulder's to dinner, and yes you are going," her mother answered crisply.
"All right, I need to call someone that evening though. Do you think we will be back by ten?"
"Yes," her mother answered, vowing to talk to her daughter soon about this new interest in what she was sure was a boy.
"Dear," Olivia interrupted her husband's thoughts.
"Yes? I can help with the dishes if you like." The similarities between father and daughter made her laugh quietly.
"No, it seems that our dear Hermione has her first crush," she smiled remembering her own teen years.
"If you say so, I hope that is all it is though. She just doesn't seem like the quick fancy type. I hope I am wrong. I really want to be wrong here," Mark said.
"What do you mean?" her voice rose in volume.
"What I am talking about is that whatever news she got has completely consumed her mind for most of the afternoon, if your earlier comment about when she stopped responding is accurate.
"That would imply that she isn't just thinking about the boy but also about his situation." He smiled at his wife's pale look.
"Perhaps we should carefully look into who this boy is." Privately he was thinking he had an idea who it was. "She does have a picture in her room with herself and two boys. The boys are as different as night and day. One has been notably harsh in his words and she regularly says his name with a bit of anger. The other appears to be the opposite. She often expresses frustration at things he does, but never at his behavior towards her or his attitude about her as a person."
"Another thing that shows how much out of it she is. She didn't complain about seeing her evil twin." Mark chuckled at the pet name they had for his girl's cousin.
"Dear," she chastised, "we don't want her parroting those words back do we." She laughed, remembering the event she was alluding to. Mark seldom said anything bad about anyone and he had been extremely embarrassed when he came back from a date with his wife to have the babysitter ask what cranial rectal insertion was and why six year old Hermione thought the sitter had one.
"Ah, yes. Perhaps I should choose my words carefully."
They spent the next hour cleaning up together and swapping stories about their precocious daughter.
Hermione tore upstairs and quickly wrote a letter back to Harry, hoping he got it before the scheduled phone call.
Dear Harry,
I am having a great time away from certain people at school and it is great to see my parents again. I am sorry your home isn't as happy as mine is and I wish you could stay here. If you could get away I would ask, if that matters.
One thing I want you to know, I will always be your friend. I know that we are young and anything can happen in our long lives, but as long as you want me you are stuck with me, and just a little bit longer.
If you are thankful for my little help this year, I am still amazed at what you have accomplished. Some of the most powerful magic I have seen came from you. I would like to update a quote I said to you the first year just before the Quirrel incident. You are a great wizard Harry. Books and cleverness, there are more important things like friendship, bravery, and love.
I will help you in any way I can Harry. Never forget that I am on your side.
There is a problem with the time for your call. I have to be out that day to meet my evil cousin, but should be able to call by ten or half ten. I hope you can make that work on your end.
I miss you.
Love,
Hermione
Harry was excited at receiving the news that Hermione was going to be calling and hoped that the Dursley's wouldn't be back from their show too early.
After working more slowly on the garage than normal for much of the day, Harry watched the clock. If they were to lock him in before they left then he couldn't get to the phone call. So he deliberately made sure he hadn't finished washing the garage floor, having just started when they were almost ready to leave.
He pretended to be extra tired and came into the kitchen. "I supposed I will have to finish tomorrow, Aunt Petunia. I can't finish before you leave."
"You freak! She screamed. I want that done. Vern!" Her voice could crack glass he was sure.
"Petunia dear," Vernon came scurrying into the kitchen.
"What have to done now you abomination?"
"Nothing, Uncle Vernon, I was just explaining how the work had gone."
"What did you break? What did you not finish? You will keep at it all night if you have to. Nothing on that list is to wait until tomorrow. Got that boy?"
Harry hung his head and slumped his shoulders. "Yes Uncle Vernon." Harry's tone was properly respectful as he slowly walked back to his work. He didn't even allow himself a smile at the way his plan had worked.
Hours later, as Harry was just putting the cleaning supplies away, constantly listening for the phone through the door he had left mostly open, he finally heard it.
"Dursley residence," Harry answered. He had been severely warned that he was never to give out his name over the phone so no one would know that he lived there.
"Harry?" a girl's voice asked tentatively.
"Hermione, I am so glad you called. I don't know when my uncle will be back, could be soon though. I need to talk to you, but first I was to apologize about the broom thing this year. I know I shouldn't have agreed with Ron about that so much. You were trying to help." Harry's voice sounded sincere.
"That's fine Harry," she replied.
"There is one thing though about that. Could you try to talk to me first next time?" his voice was starting to relax now.
"Well. You know you probably wouldn't listen. We both know that."
"Yes I know, and if I don't listen that is my problem. But this makes it like you don't trust me to make a good decision. I mean you didn't even say anything to me. It hurts to think you don't think I can do the right thing on my own. I will try to listen to you better from now on, but please try to talk with me." He was almost pleading now.
"I know Harry. But I was sure you would..." she stopped and thought about it for a second. What would her father think? He would want her to listen first.
"I understand Harry. I will try to trust you more, but that means we have to actually talk about it. That means listening and talking."
"There are things I can talk about Hermione, and some that..." he took a few deep breaths.
"Not all things are better said on the phone."
"So what else do you have to talk about?" she knew she wanted to talk about his feelings he mentioned about her, but he immediately started on the other topic.
"Hermione, I am worried about what has been going on at school. You know how many times we have fought, in one way or another, Voldemort?"
"Well, I know about Quirrel."
"No, I met him three times where he tried to kill me the first year. Then the second year at least twice, once with the basilisk and once in person created from the diary. Then we got a break last year, but Dumbledore doesn't believe he is dead for good.
"So how does that have anything to do with this, Harry?"
"He killed my parents. True he went after others, but some of the things he said. I know I told you he made mention of how he wanted to know how I survived. That means Voldemort is actively trying to kill me Hermione. That also means anyone who follows Voldemort will be also trying to kill me," his voice was getting quiet now and she could almost see him struggling with control. "And anyone I care about, or love. I am not sure I can risk..."
"Harry!" she knew him well enough to stop this now. "If you are saying that you want to leave me to protect me, I am not listening to this garbage. What do you think I would say if my father said that to me. 'Sorry sweet pea, I am going to leave you because I love you. That will keep you safe.'" She had lowered her voice as she said it in an imitation of her father. "What do you think I would say to that? Harry, you are talking about taking my friend so I can live, but what kind of life would it be without..." she paused for a long moment, "you."
"So... Hermione, I haven't learned much about what a good relationship is, but. I mean to say, can you teach me? I want to be the right kind of person for you. I like you a lot and want to learn how to do better. Being a friend is not all we could have, is it? I mean... I don't know how or what to say. Do you... I mean I..."
After a long pause she quietly interjected, "do you like me as a girlfriend Harry?"
"I gather so?" Harry was beyond flustered as his heart was pounding in his ears.
"What?" she wasn't sure that was the answer she expected.
"I do," this time Harry's voice was certain with no room for doubt. "Will you?"
"YES!" she shrieked. "I mean yes, Harry. We can see what we can build, but that means we fight to keep you alive."
"That is why I wanted you to call. I don't think Dumbledore is trying to help, actually. I haven't even been told all of the truth, of that I am sure. I trust Sirius and I need to get in contact with him. He knows so much more than we do and his agenda seems to be only how he can make up the time he has lost. I think the headmaster is playing some sort of game."
"Are you sure Harry? Everyone believes he is the greatest wizard in the world." Hermione was trying to keep an open mind and stop before charging in this time.
"Let's think about it. See if we can come up with someone else who is really smart and we can trust. They need to be wicked smart and somewhat older I would think. Let's face it, we need help."
"Harry, where do you live? My dad is one of the smartest people I have ever met. I mean there will be trouble if we set this all to him at once, but he can help. I am sure of it."
"Hermione, we are talking life and death decisions. I don't know anything about families, but it seems that a real family should be involved, or at least in the know. I just don't like putting even more people in danger.
"I really hope I am wrong about this, but at this time I doubt it."
"I agree, Harry. I will try to get a chance to at least spend a day where we can talk."
"Thanks sweet," Harry replied. "Oh, I hear the garage door. I gotta go. Bye."
Later that evening, Hermione was still pacing in her room at what she had heard. If she got it right, she now had a boyfriend, but he was in danger. He was being hunted by the most dangerous terrorists in the world and they had for some reason obsessed over him. She wasn't getting much sleep tonight. She finally went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea.
"You are even more thoughtful than at dinner yesterday." Her father's soothing voice came from a few feet behind her, causing her to jump.
"Oh daddy, it's such a mess," she cried and threw herself into his arms.
Without a word he held her until the quiet sobs subsided, then he finished making the tea as she adjusted her eyes.
"This discussion can't take place tonight, dad." Hermione began. "But we can begin what you need to think on."
"So, your talk with the boy?" he was careful not to accuse without proof, but he was willing to bet a hundred pounds that was about the boy, Harry.
"Well, I guess I can tell mom in the morning, but I have a boyfriend." Mark was unable to keep his expression from falling. If this wasn't about not having the boyfriend, it was about having him or something even more serious.
"Not the best, I guess," he said to himself.
"Daddy, he is the best. Don't be mean to him, he has had a hard enough life."
"What is this about then? How has his life been hard? But most importantly, how can we help?"
"Daddy, I don't know how bad his home life really is, but I can tell you he said I gave him the first hug he remembers getting. We need to be careful though. He doesn't like talking about it. But that isn't what we have a problem with."
"Wait a minute, you think he is in an abusive home, but that isn't a big enough problem?"
"No daddy, it is going to get much worse."
Mark looked at the intensely serious expression on his young daughter's face.
"What kind of bad are we talking here?"
"Daddy, I know Harry and I think we need him for this discussion. Is there some way we can get him, at least for a day to talk?
"Hermione, what do you think of Harry?"