Once Harry finished dinner with Mister and Missus Granger, Harry bolted to the Guest Room, his intention to concentrate on packing and nothing else. He started packing a few of his clothes at a time, giving feeble smiles every time he would pass a habiliment that would strike his fancy. Many of the shirts, he recalled, weren't of his preferred choice, but he would like them nonetheless. Harry was open to choice, and when he was given the clothes, he gladly (well, almost) accepted them.

Packing the last of the boxers into his trunk, he had a bit of difficulty closing it, but after taking his Invisibility Cloak and Marauders Map out of it and stuffing it into his school bag, he closed the trunk effectively. He sat on his four-poster, just looking around the room.

The past few weeks, he had to admit, were better than staying at the Weasleys any day. While there weren't as many people, he enjoyed it just as much. And having Hermione with him just made it even better.

After realizing someone was knocking, Harry, assuming it was Hermione, called, "Come in!"

However, that wasn't the said person. Mister Granger came in, a maniacal grin etched upon his features. "So, Harry," he started, making a move to sit on the bed, "how are you? Do you need any help packing?"

Harry shook his head, a bit too frightened to speak.

"Well, then how about we play a game of Quodpot? I hear it's particularly good weather today." Mister Granger's smiled widened and his eyes searched for Harry's Firebolt.

Finally, Harry found the courage to speak. "Err… Mister Granger, Quopot is a sport that is more frequently played in North America, not Britain." He gave an inaudible gulp as he continued, "I highly doubt we'd be able to play, mainly because of two reasons. A. You're a Muggle, and you wouldn't be able to fly properly, and B.Because I don't have anymore brooms." Giving a thoughtful look, he added, "Not to mention there aren't a lot of wizards or witches that play the sport."

"Oh," Mister Granger deflated. "Then why do you play on brooms," he suddenly stopped, knowing what he said was wrong. "Oh! It was Quidditch, not Quodpot!" Mister Granger snapped his fingers. "That's what Hermione called it! Quodpot!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Right." Giving a loud yawn, Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Well, Mister Granger, it's been… fun chatting, but I need my sleep right now."

"Just don't sneak into my daughter's bedroom," he said before closing Harry's door shut and going downstairs.

Once Harry was settled into the covers, Harry thought absently. Was he talking about Hermione or Catty?

0—0

Once Harry and Hermione were downstairs with their things, Missus Granger gave them each a hug. "Oh, even if you'll be gone for a week, I'm going to miss you—both of you!—so much." Once she released the two, she both kissed their foreheads.

"Mum, don't worry, Harry and I will be back to drop him off to the Dursleys," Hermione told her, feebly smiling.

She patted them on the shoulders, her eyes slightly tearing up. "I know, but I still don't want to see you go. What about Catty? She's going to be so bored without you two!"

Harry laughed, "Don't worry, Missus Granger, Catty will be alright. She's a big girl, and she's very active. I'm sure she'll have no trouble filling us in. I'm sure she won't even notice!"

As if on cue, Catty ran downstairs and hugged the two teens. "Don't leave!! It's gonna be so boring without you guys!!" She hugged each of their legs and buried her face into Harry's trousers.

Thank God she's very short, Harry happily thought. Because then she'd have her face buried in my crotch.

"Please, please, please, please," she begged, now only holding Harry's legs.

He grinned at the small child's antics and hunkered down to her level. "Don't worry, Catty. Hermione and I will be back in a week," he reassured the child, holding her cheek tenderly.

"How 'bout we keep you 'n Sissy stays over there?" she asked her eyes hopeful.

Harry chuckled. "I'm sorry, Catty. Hermione is going to stay here for a while, and I'm going to go back to the Dursleys."

"Awww," she whined, "but you don't have to, do you?"

Harry grinned, loving her attitude. "Yes, I do, actually. I think your dad's scared that I'm going to marry your sister tomorrow, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave," he lied… well, almost. He did have a feeling that Mister Granger had that idea stored in his mind somewhere; he just didn't want to admit it.

Her face showed one of disappointment, and she lowered her head. "Can… can I have a kiss?" she asked shyly, her face still down.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but didn't object. "Sure."

Quickly, Catty added, "But not like you kiss Sissy! You eat her then!"

Chuckling, Harry gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "How about that, then?"

Catty sighed happily, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Perfect," she giggled, extending the 'r' for a ridiculous amount of time. "Maybe Papa don't want you and Sissy to get married, but I bet he'd say we could!!"

"Oh no you don't, Catherine," interrupted Hermione, pulling Harry up by his elbow. "Harry is mine, understood?"

"Hermione, she's only four. Obviously she doesn't mean it," he said in a placid manner.

"Clearly you don't know her, then," she mumbled, picking up her trunk and going to the front door. Looking at Harry, she silently told him to pick up his trunk and follow her. Once he came, Mister Granger came up to them and gave Hermione a kiss on the forehead.

Taking the trunk (he thought that the boy was 'strong' enough to handle his own things), he put them into the car. Letting the two slide in, he started the ignition, and they left.

Catty sighed from the door. "Sissy always takes what I want," she grumbled.

Ann smiled, picking up the four-year-old. "How about a peanut butter and jam sandwich?"

Catty squealed, knowing that her mother remembered her favourite foods.

0—0

"This is where they live?" Mister Granger asked. "Are you sure we haven't gotten the addresses mixed up?"

Hermione sighed, opening the car door. "No, Dad, we haven't gotten the address mixed up. This is where they live, yes, and this is where I'll be staying for the next week, alright?"

Harry inwardly chuckled; loving that Hermione was able to stand up to her father. Getting the trunks from the car, he entwined his right hand with her right, and the two bid farewell to Mister Granger.

"If she comes back pregnant—" Mister Granger started.

"—then Harry is dead," finished Hermione. "Yes, yes, I know. Dad, do you honestly think we have no morals?" she shook her head. "See you in a week, Dad."

Harry simply nodded, not wanting to irk Mister Granger any farther, and the two set off to the front door. Once they got there, Harry put his trunk down and knocked. Almost ten seconds later, he was greeted by a mass of ginger hair.

"Harry!" greeted Fred—or was it George? "What a pleasant surprise to see you, mate!" He opened the door farther, noticing the entwined hands, and let Harry and Hermione pass through. "And Hermione, looking radiant as usual," he complimented, dramatically fluttering his eyelashes at her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, offering Fred a wide grin. "Where is everyone else?" she asked after a few moments.

"In the garden, playing Quidditch, of course!" he exclaimed. "Now, just hand me these trunks and I'll apparate to the rooms you'll be staying in, and I'll escort you to the garden, milady and… err… Harry," he grinned, taking the trunks from them. "By the way," added Fred, noticing Harry's new look, "lay off the women's products. A bracelet—however cool it might be—and piercings is not the way to go!" But he clapped Harry on the back, nonetheless. "But, the green hair is very, very macho." Before Harry could retort, Fred apparated.

"Bloody prat," he muttered. Looking at his silver watch on one wrist, and the simple golden bracelet on the other, he started taking it off. And then there was his eyebrow stud and lip ring, which he just didn't have the heart to take off. And his hair, well, there was no way he'd be able to change that.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, noticing Harry fumbling with the bracelet.

"Taking this off, obviously," he answered. "I can't be in front of the Weasley's like this! They'll faint!"

She held his wrists, and forced him to look her in the eye. "Harry, don't take anything off just because you're scared of what the Weasleys will think, alright? If they can't handle it, then just tell them to—"

"I'm back!" announced Fred, interrupting Hermione. Noticing Harry and Hermione's position, he said, "If you two just wanted some privacy, I could've just apparated you two to the royal bedchambers." He gave a cheeky grin, seeing the couples face blush profusely.

"We weren't going to do anything, Fred," Hermione mumbled before straightening herself up. "Now, you said that everyone was in the garden?"

Fred nodded, leading them towards it. Soon they got there, and Molly Weasley noticed Hermione. "Oh Hermione, dear!" she gave her a big hug, and Hermione returned it happily. Letting her go, she checked her over once. "Still a bit thin, just like – Harry!" she cried, seeing Harry for the first time. "Oh… Harry…" she said, looking over Harry's new appearance.

Wearing simple faded (and slightly torn, since he fell—many, many times—while playing with Catty in the playground) jean trousers and a plain blue shirt, Harry didn't think his fashion sense was too bad. But, then again, Missus Weasley might've noticed his short, green-tipped, spiked hair, the blood red stud that stood out sharply against his jet-black eyebrow, and the small silver loop that was near the corner of his bottom lip. But, he couldn't be too sure.

Almost cautiously, she approached Harry. Enveloping him in a surprisingly loose hug, she withdrew immediately. "Yes, still a bit thin, but nothing I won't be able to fix!" she said, smiling at Harry. Nearly breaking out in a run (something which Harry nearly laughed aloud for), she ran into the house and out of view.

"Harry!" shouted Ron, dismounting from his broom and running towards Harry and Hermione. "And Hermione!"

"Ron!" greeted Hermione, giving him a bear hug. "You've grown so much!" she exclaimed, noticing that she just barely reached his shoulder.

"Yeah, not too much, but enough," he said nonchalantly. He looked at Harry next, nearly choking on the air he inhaled. "You've… Wow… You've – err, changed…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I have."

Chuckling, he clapped Harry on the back and said, "Well, mate, c'mon! Grab your Firebolt and let's go! We've got a Quidditch game to finish!"

However, before Harry had the chance to move, he was enveloped into another hug. "G-Ginny," he greeted, awkwardly placing his arms around her back.

Pulling back, she gave him a smile. Pecking him on the cheek (and Harry noticing Hermione's eyes narrow slightly), Ginny pulled away completely.

"Hey, Harry," she finally greeted. He gave a feeble smile, inching closer to Hermione.

"Ginny," Hermione greeted coolly. Usually, she was friends with her, but the show she just displayed, Hermione wasn't too sure she was willing to share right now. Not now. Not ever.

"Oh, hey Hermione!" she greeted, staying there.

Ron noticed the exchange between the three, and thought that maybe something was going on with Harry and Hermione. No, he'd tell me if there was! Ron reasoned with himself. But then again… there wasn't anyway to tell me, was there? I mean… Hedwig wasn't with Harry, and Hermione doesn't have an owl. And it's not as if the Muggle post will be able to get here. Shrugging it off for the time being, he decided to talk.

"So… err," he searched for a topic the four of them could converse on. Finding nothing (Hermione didn't like Quidditch much, and he and Harry didn't like talking about "girl things"), he simply said, "The weather… nice, innit? Perfect day for Quidditch, or in Hermione's case, reading," he chuckled.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, it is nice." He looked at Hermione for a moment, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if right now were the right time to tell Ron about their relationship.

Hermione nodded, smiling, and turned to Ron. "Ron, can we talk to you in private for a moment, please?" she asked.

Raising a suspicious eyebrow at the two, he slowly replied. "Sure, I guess."

The three went inside, much to Ginny's disappointment. Walking upstairs and into Ron's bedroom, Harry and Hermione sat on the bed while Ron leaned against the wall.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" asked Ron, wrapping his arms over his chest.

This isn't going to be easy, thought Harry, closing his eyes briefly, wondering how he could break the news easily.

"Harry and I are dating," Hermione answered bluntly.

Wish I could've thought of that, he thought sarcastically, groaning and putting his head into his hands, waiting for Ron to blow up and punch the living daylights out of him.

"Really?" was all Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we are." After a short pause, she asked, "Are you alright with it?"

Ron was silent, his eyes wide and staring at the two people sitting in front of them. Since when have they been dating? he wondered. And why does it seem so… weird that they're dating? They're like brother and sister! And… Wow, this is going to take some getting used to.

Harry, finally lifting his head up, took a look at Ron. His eyes were wide; his eyes switching from him to Hermione, and his eyebrows were raised so high that they nearly disappeared into his ginger hair. Groaning, Harry put his head back into his hands.

"Ron?" Hermione called, standing up and snapping her fingers in front of his face.

But I thought she fancied me! he argued with himself. Was I just a distraction? Or was I just a passing fancy? Dear Merlin this is confusing. And what about Ginny? Wait… what about Ginny? Since when has Harry fancied Ginny? Oh Merlin, all of this thinking is getting me hungry! How does Hermione do it? What about—

"Ron!" shouted Hermione, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

Finally snapping out of it, Ron shook his head vigorously. "What? Oh! Err, yeah. Sure. Whatever you say."

"Were you even paying attention?" she asked, her eyes narrowing accusingly.

Stammering, Ron replied, "Err, yeah. Sure."

She rolled her eyes and went back to the bed. "Obviously not," she muttered.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry placated, entwining his fingers with hers. "I bet Ron was just having some 'me time.'"

"Sure he was," she mumbled.

"You're holding hands," Ron stated, staring at their joined hands.

"Thanks for the update, Ron," Harry said sarcastically.

Taking a long, deep breath, Hermione said, once more, "Ron… Harry and I are dating."

His eyes widened. "Wow… Really?"

The two nodded in unison. "Yeah," responded Harry. "Are you alright with this? I mean, Hermione and I will try our best to include you into everything. We promise not to neglect you. Obviously there's going to be some—" He was babbling, and so Ron intervened.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, putting his hands up into the air. "I get it! Merlin you're going mad!" He laughed, and then said, "Yeah. You two are dating. And… I'm happy for you. I really am." He smiled, happy that his two friends found love within each other.

"Really?" asked Hermione. At his nod, she grinned happily and sprang up, enveloping Ron into a hug. "Oh I'm so glad!" she exclaimed.

Moving away from Hermione, Ron said, "Good. Just… just don't snog in front of me, alright? It's still going to take some getting used to."

Nodding emphatically, Harry agreed. "Sure. We just wanted to make sure that you were alright with it."

Ron offered a small smile of reassurance. "Yeah, I'm alright with it, I guess. I mean… Yeah, you two were the last in the world I thought would start dating each other, but it's alright."

"Really? You thought that Hermione and I would never get together?" he asked.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I mean, you two are so close, it's like you're brother and sister!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and then started laughing. "That's barking," he said, his voice muffled by laughter.

"Harry and I, brother and sister?" Hermione chuckled, wrapping her arms around Ron again. "Oh Ron, you can be so daft sometimes."

Ron grinned and removed Hermione from himself. "Yeah, well, that's me. Ronald Weasley, boy with the emotional range of a teaspoon."

After the three had finished their rounds of laughter, they made their way downstairs. They had to admit, having times where they could simply laugh and enjoy themselves, just the three of them, it felt good.

Quickly making their way into the garden, they saw Fred and George playing Muggle football with the Quaffle. George was by the bushes, waiting for Fred to score, and Ginny was standing opposite of George, waiting for Bill to get the Quaffle away from Fred so he could score it.

"Oi, are you going to let me and Harry play or what?" shouted Ron, running up to the crowd of Weasleys.

"Sure, just as long as Harry here tells us how to play!" Fred replied, grinning as he held the ball and threw it at George.

Harry jogged up to them and asked, "You don't know how to play?"

"Nope," Fred, George, and Bill replied in unison. "By the way, nice piercings," Bill commented, seeing him for the first time that day.

"Thanks," he said dismissively. "Err… the way to play football is really easy, actually. Just, make sure your hands don't touch the ball, and—"

"That's what we've been doing wrong!" George exclaimed, hitting Fred on the head with his Quidditch bat lightly. "You git, you said that it was Quidditch on the ground!"

"Well, it's quiet obvious, brother, that it's not," he replied cheekily.

"Fred, George, let's play!" Bill said, getting aggravated. "Ron, Harry, you joining us?" he asked.

"Err… not right now, I think I'll sit this one out," answered Harry, walking towards Hermione.

"Ooh, spending time with the girl, eh, Harry? Want to snog—or shag?—Hermione's brains out," George said, grinning from ear to ear.

Ginny, who'd just noticed the boys were surrounding Harry and Ron, jogged up to them. "Now, why would he want to shag her brains out?" she asked, her breathing slightly laboured.

"Because she's his girlfriend?" shrugged George. "Anyway, back to the game!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry started walking towards Hermione, who was sitting under a tree, simply looking at the clouds.

"Knut for your thoughts?" asked Harry, sitting next to Hermione.

Hermione smiled and lay on the grass. "I remember when I was a child, and the weather would be wonderful: not too cloudy, not too warm, perfect enough to simply lie on the grass and gaze at the clouds. Usually, when I would lie there, I would see if there were any shapes in the clouds." She chuckled, "Silly, I know, but I was very young and naïve at the time."

Harry nodded, absently placing Hermione's head on his lap, playing with random strands of soft, bushy hair. "I know what you mean. When I was younger, probably much younger than you were, I would go to the park and sit on the swings, just looking around. Just looking, nothing else. I thought it was peaceful, calming, somehow." He shrugged, "It was a hell of a lot better than being with the Dursleys, I'll tell you that."

She turned her head slightly, looking into Harry's green eyes. "I miss those times, Harry."

"I know," he said softly, smiling down at her. "I do too. Times where we could just walk around, not wondering if someone were behind us, watching us, plotting our very deaths. Or worse, plotting the ones we love's deaths." He hung his head, turning it away from Hermione.

She sat up and held his face in her hands. "Harry, we were young at the time—"

"We're still very young, Hermione."

"—and we didn't know anything," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "But, one thing is for sure, we've still got—"

"Heads up!" shouted Fred.

Quickly ducking, Harry pushed Hermione and himself onto the earthen floor. His face was inches away from hers, and he quickly let into temptation—despite the number of Weasleys around—and lowered his mouth onto hers. Smiling as she responded instantly, he parted her lips by plunging his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers out.

Internally smiling, she responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck, welcoming his weight. Which, Hermione thought, isn't actually a lot.

For a few blissful minutes, their lips didn't leave each other's, but ignored the fake gagging (from the sheer goodness of Ron) and cheers (courtesy of Fred and George) from the Weasleys.

Finally, after a few quick pecks, Harry finally let himself off Hermione. "That was nice, but unexpected," he commented, helping Hermione up.

She nodded, standing up and brushing her jean trousers off. "Yes, it was."

Ron ran up to the couple, and playfully said, "Well, I guess that takes away any doubts I had!"

Chuckling, Harry said, "Yeah, I bet it does."

"So," started Ron, "want to play Quidditch now?"

Giving Hermione a sideways look—who simply nodded—Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, let's play."

0—0

Days quickly passed, and it was soon the last day of Harry and Hermione's stay.

Over the past week, they'd had a lot of fun. They often played Quidditch (Harry even nearly managed to get Hermione to play), but then would often be reprimanded by Missus Weasley for ruining her carrots. They played chess, which Ron won all of the times, and Harry and Hermione were introduced to the to-be Bride and Groom.

By now, however, since they were familiar with everyone and everything, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to Ron's room.

"Well, the last day, eh? Blimey, it seems as though it were only yesterday that you two came," said Ron, lying on his bed.

"Yeah it does, actually," said Harry, sitting on the bed opposite of Ron.

"Why don't we take a picture?" Hermione suggested. "We don't nearly have enough pictures of the three of us, and it'd be a wonderful end to the day, too!"

"But do you have a camera?" Harry asked.

"I have a wizarding one, but it's really old," answered Ron. "One minute, I'll ask Dad where it is. Maybe he can take it!"

The two nodded, and Ron ran out of the room.

Ten minutes later, Ron and Mister Weasley came up, a rather large camera in his hands. "Hello Harry, Hermione," greeted Mister Weasley.

"Hey Mister Weasley," greeted Harry, and Hermione nodded.

"Now, where would you like the picture to be taken? The garden would be a wonderful spot, no?"

"Yeah, Dad!" exclaimed Ron. "That'd be perfect, wouldn't it, Harry?"

Harry stood up. "Yeah, let's go."

"C'mon, Herms," said Ron, grinning as he saw Hermione's face redden.

"It's Hermione, Ronald."

Grinning, the four made their way to the garden. "Now, get into position and tell me when you're ready."

They nodded, and Harry wrapped his arm tightly around Hermione's shoulder, moulding her against his side. Hermione wrapped her arm around Harry's waist, and placed her hand on Ron's shoulder, who then proceeded to place his hand lightly on her back.

"We're ready, Dad!"

Nodding, Arthur took the picture.

0—0

"Oh god, does my hair really look like that?" Hermione wondered, looking at the new picture.

"Yep," Ron responded.

Inside the picture, Harry—wearing a hooded sweatshirt, his now trademark piercings and tipped green hair, and slightly torn jeans—had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, nuzzling his neck as Ron pretended to gag. Hermione—wearing a soft periwinkle shirt and khaki trousers—was chuckling and trying to get away from Harry's grasp, nearly falling onto Ron in the process.

They'd frozen the picture, because they thought that the other parts of the picture were far too silly. So, currently, the Trio were in their original pose: Harry with his arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend's shoulder, whose arm was wrapped around his waist. Her hand was placed lightly on Ron's shoulder, whose hand was lightly touching her back.

All three looked genuinely happy.

"Yes, and we love it," Harry answered, running his hand through it.

"What did I tell you about displaying affection in front of Ron?" asked Ron, raising his eyebrows playfully.

"Nothing…?"

"You simply said that we couldn't snog in front of you," answered Hermione.

"Oh," he deflated. "Well, whatever. It's the same, to me."

Hermione smiled. "Of course it is."

"Ron, Harry, Hermione!" shouted Missus Weasley from downstairs. "Dinner is ready!!"

Grinning, Ron bolted downstairs without sparing Harry and Hermione a second glance.

"That's our Ron," they muttered in unison.

0—0

When they got back to the Granger residence, they saw the Order there. Dumbledore had a humble smile etched upon his features, and Lupin was grinning from ear to ear. Tonks was playing with Catty, making her giggle every time she would change her hair colour and style.

"Now, Harry, are you ready to go back to the Dursleys?" Remus asked, shrinking Harry's trunk and putting it into his pocket.

"No, but could I ask for a favour?" Harry asked, grinning at Hermione.

Slowly, Remus responded, "Sure…"

Thirty minutes later, Harry, Hermione, their "children," Lupin, and Dumbledore made their way towards Number Four Privet Drive.

Dumbledore had changed Catty's eye colour to green, to make it seem as if she were Harry and Hermione's daughter, and Hermione had an inflated stomach, making it look as if she were five months pregnant. And in Harry's arms, close to his chest, was a small fake baby dressed in blue, making it look as if he were holding his seven-month-old son.

"Now, Catty, remember the game we're playing?" Harry asked.

"Yeah! We're playing a prank on your Uncle and Auntie!" she exclaimed, her now green eyes filled with excitement. "I'm gonna call you 'Papa' and Sissy 'Mummy.' This is gonna be fun!"

Oh yeah, he thought, grinning internally. He then turned to Hermione. "Now, how is my pregnant girlfriend?"

"Feeling fat," she muttered. "I don't know how you convinced me to do this."

He wrapped one arm around Hermione's slender shoulders, giving her a kiss on the temple. "This is going to be fun, Hermione! Just you wait."

Going up to the door, he rang the doorbell. Making sure Catty was still hovering around them somewhere, Harry then turned to face the door.

"One moment!" shouted someone.

A few seconds later, Vernon answered.

"Hey Uncle Vernon!" greeted Harry, patting his 'son's' back lightly. "I'd like you to meet the family!"

Vernon looked at Harry: he had short, green tipped hair, and he had s blood red stud in his eyebrow. There was a small silver loop going through his bottom lip, and he wore clothes that actually fit him. But, he was also holding what seemed to be a baby—a baby that had black hair. Next to him, a young woman—the same girl he recognized to be the girl that pounced on Harry at the train station—with a large, pregnant belly stood, holding a what seemed to be four-year-olds hand. She had brown hair, looked exactly like the pregnant girl (Hermione, was it?), but had Potter's eyes.

His eyes widening at the sudden realization, Vernon Dursley fainted.

Author's Notes: Nope, you aren't getting a sequel from me. Nor another chapter, sorry. Anyone who is willing to write a sequel, however, can if you have my permission, etc. Just ask in a review, Personal Message, or whatever.

Thank you all for the support you've been showing me, and hopefully this was a comic relief from DH. (Horrible/wonderful book, if I do say so myself.)

I love you all!!