A Long Way from Home

Chapter IV

August 15, 2003

Soft, bluesy music drifted out of the wizarding wireless propped on the sink in the hallway bathroom. Hermione’s head rested against the edge of the large claw foot tub, and her eyes were closed as she lazily drew circles across the top of the water, humming softly along with the music. The room was lit only by the candles she had scattered around the room and she felt pleasantly light as she sipped from a glass of red wine. Sighing deeply, Hermione slid deeper into the hot water, feeling her whole body relax.

Harry was gone for the night, visiting Remus & Tonks. She had declined to go along, desiring instead some quiet time to herself. Harry and Hermione hadn’t been apart much in the last few weeks. They had talked at great length each day, slowly rehashing everything that happened in seventh year, and the years following. There were tears, and even some shouting as they fought once more over Hermione’s seclusion and Harry’s guilt. Hermione soon found her nightmares abating and they began to talk slowly about the future. Harry had gone to North Carolina one day and had closed up the house there. His remaining possessions were still in boxes, stacked in the spare bedroom.

The night that he had brought back all of the boxes, Hermione had fallen asleep with mixed feelings of pleasure and agony. Whatever path they were on in their separate lives, they were now on it together. Harry was through with hiding across the pond and Hermione felt stronger as each day passed. She now longed to be out of her cottage, enjoying the weather and prowling through the shops in the village. They spent long hours walking down near the water and had even gone into a Muggle town about forty minutes away to do some shopping. Tomorrow, Saturday, would be spent at the Burrow, where a casual summer picnic was planned. Afterwards, they were heading to London with Ron, Andie and Ginny for a night out. Her social calendar, as she had started calling it, was rapidly filling and more and more of that time would be spent out of the small, protective cottage she had spent so much time in.

Much to her surprise, this didn’t bother her in the slightest. Her slight agony, however, came in the form of the same friend who had done so much to bring her out of her self-imposed prison. Harry was around constantly and he was completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Therefore, he acted completely relaxed and comfortable around her. Hermione stared into her wine glass as she thought back to the morning a few days prior. She had risen early, expecting to have the cottage to herself for a few hours while Harry slept. Much to her dismay, however, she’d discovered him sitting at the kitchen table wearing only pajama pants. He had blushed upon catching her gaze moving down his lean torso. Her heart had fluttered at the sight and she’d thought herself horrifically cliché for swooning over her best friend. After much careful thought, Hermione had put her responses up to sheer lack. She had been alone in this cottage, with few friends. The last person she’d dated was Ron and was feeling as if she’d missed out on something. It was obvious that her reaction to Harry was simply because she was out of practice. A girl couldn’t be practically celibate for so long and not be expected to have odd…feelings crop up now and again.

Indeed, Hermione was much relieved to have the house to herself for a night.

***

Hermione rose early the next morning, determined to get some work done. She felt as if she was on the brink of something important and longed to see if her instinct was right or if she was merely being egotistical. She made herself the usual cup of tea and a few slices of toast before settling at her worktable in the living room. There were still books stacked everywhere. In fact, Professor McGonagall had sent over several fresh tomes for her perusal; there were books heaped in large stacks in a semi-circle around the table. She felt overwhelmed by the mess suddenly. Perhaps Harry could help her with some sort of magical expansion for the room as floor space was rapidly disappearing under her work.

A large thud, followed by a mumbled curse cued her that Harry had arrived home.

“Harry, really, I never knew you had a thing for such dramatic entrances,” Hermione said, not looking up from her notes. “When did you become such a klutz?”

“Well, I suppose it was when you left a stack of books in the apparition point.” Harry sounded annoyed; it was the tone of his voice that finally caused her to push her notes away.

“I’m sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “Professor McGonagall apparated those to that spot yesterday and I haven’t had a chance to move them yet.”

Harry looked around before gazing at her with wide eyes. “Where were you going to put them?”

Hermione looked around. They had moved everything out of her office into the living room to make room for Harry; there was only her room, the kitchen and the bathroom after that. She finally just shrugged. “I hadn’t quite figured that out yet.”

***

“Hermione?”

“Hm?” she responded softly, not looking up from her work.

“It’s time to leave; Mrs. Weasley is expecting us at two and I’ve got the fire built.”

“Just…” Hermione scanned her eyes quickly over the page she was reading and jotted a note down on a long scroll of parchment. “There. Had to finish that.”

“How is it going?” Harry asked as he watched her close up books and shuffle her papers around.

“I think I’m nearly there. I want to go talk to a muggle geneticist soon; there are a couple of things I need to verify.”

Harry just nodded. “Is there anything we need to take with us?”

“Other than the cake? No.” Hermione was grinning now and looked at him mischievously.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I can’t believe you made a birthday cake.”

“Well, this is partially for your birthday, isn’t it? All we did here was have a nice dinner. You have to have a cake for your birthday, Harry.”

He seemed to have no answer for this, because he didn’t speak again until they had flooed safely to the kitchen of the Burrow, a covered cake in hand.

“Oh, Harry! Hermione! How lovely to see you both.” Molly came forward, grabbing them each into a hug and kiss before taking the cake from Hermione. She was strangely alone in the kitchen.

“Where is everyone?” Hermione asked.

“I suspect they’re all outside, dear. Fred and George have brought some sort of new game along.”

Harry’s eyes gleamed at this: he had always been a big fan of most things the twins came up with. He kissed Molly once more on the cheek and strode from the room, obviously heading to the back garden.

Hermione heard a brief commotion in the hallway as a stampede of footsteps moved towards the kitchen. Isaac burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Sadie and Bea. Angelina was behind them, holding baby Colin in her arms. Hermione chuckled softly at all the noise they made as she looked each of the kids over carefully. She had received regular owls from Molly over the years, detailing each of her grandkids and they always included fresh snapshots.

Isaac was the oldest of all the grandkids, at four. He looked a lot like Charlie, but had his mother Annabelle’s green eyes and complexion. The Weasley red hair could not be missed, but he had escaped the Weasley freckles. Fred and Angelina’s kids had their mother’s dark complexion, with black hair. Angelina kept Sadie’s hair charm-curled and used the most adorable ribbons she had ever seen in it. George and Katie’s daughter, Bea, was the same age as Sadie (which Hermione had been told amused the twins to no end) and looked like an exact replica of her mother, with the only difference being that her blond hair was slightly strawberry.

Hermione surmised that the fun outside had grown old to the point of driving the Weasley women into the house. Angelina was followed by Katie, Fleur, Ginny, Annabelle and Andie, who was holding one of Bill and Fleur’s twin girls. The noise level in the room instantly rose and Molly Weasley pushed the oldest of the kids to a small table in the corner of the kitchen that had obviously been set up for their use. Hermione saw charmed crayons that changed colors and sheets of brightly hued paper that brought the crayon drawings to life. The other ladies settled around the table while Molly levitated various snacks and things to rest in the middle of it.

“Hullo, Hermione,” Andie said as she sat, cuddling the baby against her and smiling. “How’re things?”

“Well, thanks. I’m keeping plenty busy with my research. And you? Are you ready for school to begin yet?”

Andie made a face before shaking her head slightly. “I’ve enjoyed this summer far too much to really be ready for school.”

“I, for one, can’t wait for school to begin. Isaac is starting at a primary school and I’m looking forward to a quiet house,” Annabelle said, looking over at her son.

“Primary school seems like a luxury,” Molly said reproachfully. “You’re positive you don’t want to teach him yourself?”

Annabelle shook her head. “I won’t have the time. I’ll be starting a job in September, after Charlie returns to Romania.”

Molly obviously disapproved of this, but kept her mouth shut as the ladies started debating working versus staying at home. Hermione was struck by how out of place she felt here and let her gaze wander. She eventually settled on Ginny who made eye contact and a quick motion with her head. Without disturbing the conversation, Hermione and Ginny slipped into the living room.

Ginny gagged as they sat on the long couch. “I hate those hen fests. All they ever talk about is kids and being married. Blech.”

Hermione laughed. “I felt so out of the loop in there. All I could think was, ‘is this the life I’d have had?’ and I really hope it wouldn’t have been.”

“Oh please. You would have to marry my brother for that to have happened and that - I just can’t wrap my head around anymore.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Ahh, to be young again, eh? So innocent, so clueless.” Ginny snorted as she stretched her long legs out next to her on the couch. She, like Hermione, did not make a habit of wearing full wizarding dress all the time. They were both clothed in jeans and light, cotton tops. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how much more glamorous Ginny seemed.

Hermione laughed. “I don’t know much about innocent anything. Clueless maybe, but never innocent.”

Ginny nodded her agreement. “By the way, how are things with Harry? Is he driving you crazy yet?”

“Only slightly. The cottage certainly seems smaller than I ever thought it to be.”

“It’s amazing how men just seem to take up more space that you’d think. It’s not like any of them have more than three or so pairs of shoes.”

“See, that’s not what gets me. It’s little things – like how he usually leaves his breakfast dishes on the table until he’s ready to clean them up. Or the worst – after he shaves there are little flecks of shaving cream all over the sink. And hair of course, which is just disgusting.”

“To true! I hate it when they do that.” Ginny made a face as she said this, causing her to laugh.

Hermione stopped giggly and looked at her wickedly. “Know all about that do you?”

Ginny raised her eyebrow. “Houseguests of course. And all these brothers!” Ginny shouted as the Weasley men stumbled into the living room from the garden, laughing about some crude joke George had told. Harry had joined them in the laughter and Arthur looked distinctly torn between laughing and scolding.

“Hey, Gin, Hermione.” Ron was the first to notice them and waved. “Is lunch ready yet?”

Ginny just shrugged and waved them into the kitchen, but Mrs. Weasley was already coming out to the living room to call everyone in to eat.

Ron whooped before leading the way into the kitchen. For the second time in less than a month, Hermione found herself sitting at the enlarged table in the Burrow. She was surrounded by Weasleys and was actually completely content. The nervousness she had experienced a month ago had disappeared rapidly and she desperately hoped that it stayed a thing of the past. She sneaked a look at Harry, wondering if she would see any of the unease that had been so apparent at the wedding. He was, however, looking right at her and she saw instantly that he had the same feeling of happiness that she did. He grinned widely at her and winked, causing her to blush lightly and turn quickly to take the basket of bread from Ginny.

The meal flew by, as Hermione found herself engaged in a discussion about, of all things, Quidditch with the twins. Fred and George both wanted to teach their daughters to ride brooms, but both Angelina and Katie were strictly against it.

“I just can’t imagine what would happen if she were to fall, Fred. You know enough about magic to control it so that you can protect yourself. She can’t do that!”

“Actually,” Hermione interrupted, setting her fork down and crossing her hands in front of her. “There’s a lot of support for the idea that children can better intuitively control how magic protects them.”

“How’s that then? If they can’t control it?” Katie asked, looking at Hermione imploringly.

“Well, magic is an instinctual part of us. We can use it at a very young age. Fortunately, wizards have kept medical records for much longer than Muggles have and over history, magical children sustain far fewer of the accidents that befall Muggle children. Muggle adults, however, sustain fewer injuries than wizarding adults. It’s almost as if we train the magical instinct that keeps us safe right out of ourselves.”

Angelina and Katie just gaped at her while Fred and George snickered. Ginny nudged Hermione gently. “You’re tipping the balance,” she whispered, laughing behind her hand.

Hermione smiled sheepishly at her old housemates and shrugged her shoulders. “Not to say, of course, that I in any way condone putting your young children on racing brooms. No need to tempt fate.”

“Ha!” Angelina laughed and patted Fred on the shoulder, while George looked at her crestfallen. Hermione merely winked at him and went back to her food.

Shortly after the meal, everyone scattered to the living room for awhile. Molly and a few of her daughter-in-laws cleared up the kitchen before calling everyone back in. The lights had been dimmed and Hermione’s large cake was set up on the table, ablaze with candles. Ron and George manhandled Harry to the edge of the table, and everyone crowded around him, singing the happy birthday song. Harry was ready to blow out the candles, but the twins launched into a rather crude version of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” that had Hermione quite glad all the children were all out of the room.

Harry looked amused as he was clapped on the back and jostled about before bending down to blow out the candles. As he did so, his gaze locked with Hermione’s across the table and he smiled strangely at her in the instant before the room went black.

Hermione was grateful for the momentary darkness, for she was blushing for the second time that day. Molly must have flicked her wand, however, because the lights quickly came back up.

“What did you wish for mate?” Ron asked as his took a piece of cake from Molly.

“Now, Ron, he can’t tell you that,” Molly admonished, passing around additional slices.

“I wished that I would never have to hear that bloody ‘Jolly Good Fellow’ song again,” Harry interjected. He caught Hermione’s eye once more and winked at her. She was suddenly wondering what all the winking was about and her stomach did that annoying flutter again. It was becoming all too familiar and she made a vow to see about stopping it as quickly as possible.

They passed around cake and the ladies split a bottle of wine before everyone once again split apart, this time for the evening.

Hermione and Harry found themselves readying to floo with Ron, Andie and Ginny to London, where they were going to a play and out for a late dinner. They made the rounds quickly, saying goodbye to everyone and taking leftover cake from Molly. Ron led the way through the fireplace and they exited in a small parlor filled with cardboard boxes. A large dog came bounding in from another room; Hermione recognized it as the dog that had been running around at the wedding. It took turns greeting each of them before bounding onto the couch and settling down to watch them all intently.

“Sorry about Scout and for the mess,” Andie said. “We’re moving on Monday, so there’s just sort of all this stuff around.”

Hermione shrugged it off. “You ought to see my living room. Harry nearly killed himself on a stack of books this morning.” Harry poked her in the side as she said this before following Ron out of the room.

“A lot of this is books. The house in Hogsmeade has a small library off the kitchen and I’m absolutely in love with it. I’m in love with the whole house really; I can’t wait to start painting and decorating. These boring old white walls do nothing for me.”

“How’d you manage to get Ron to agree to a house with a library?”

Andie’s eyes just twinkled as she led Hermione to a spare bedroom. “I honestly have no idea. Call it my feminine wiles.” She opened the door for Hermione and waved her into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, you and Ginny will be sharing in here tonight. Harry has the couch.” The sparsely furnished room had two twin beds and a chest of drawers. Hermione spotted a long mirror and mentally went over their plans for the evening. “This’ll be fine. What time should I be ready?”

“Seven-ish ought to do. The play starts at eight-thirty.”

Hermione nodded and closed the door after Andie. She pulled the small garment bag from her pocket, whispering a quick charm to return it to full size. As she pulled the zipper, there was a knock at the door, followed by Ginny opening the door.

“Are you getting ready? What are you wearing?” Ginny had her own garment bag in hand and was quickly unzipping it.

Hermione held her dress against her, swirling slightly.

“Oooh, Hermione, how pretty!” The dress that Hermione had chosen was a cocoa color, with skinny straps and with a slightly flared skirt. She had made a special trip to London for it and had splurged on the entire outfit, complete with shoes and matching bag. There was even a simple bronze necklace that she had picked out. Ginny fingered the soft material between her fingers, smiling. “You’ll look great in this, I think.”

“What about you? What did you get?”

“Oh, I had this, wore it once to an exhibit opening, but I haven’t had a chance to wear it since.” She held the gown up to her chest, mimicking Hermione’s motion. This dress was various shades of pale gray, with flimsy material that was almost ethereal. The gray brought out her blue eyes and seemed to make Ginny’s bobbed chin length hair (she had recently taken off about six inches) look brighter. Hermione looked from the dress to Ginny’s face to see her friend considering her carefully. “You should let me do your hair tonight.”

Hermione had trimmed her own hair last week. It now brushed a few inches below her shoulders and she had been amazed at how much lighter her own hair felt. “Alright.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’ve always been much better at this than I have.”

“Ah, you had more important things on your mind when we were at Hogwarts.” Ginny winked at her and pressed the garment bag into her arms. “Go get showered and dressed. Meet me back here.”

Hermione quickly stepped into the shower, adjusting the unfamiliar controls to a comfortable temperature. She lathered her hair with shampoo, scrubbing it into her scalp until thick bubbles had formed. She twisted it up and placed on her head before reaching for soap. After forty-five minutes, she was clean and powered. She had used some makeup potions on her face, adding light color to her eyes and a bronzing potion to her face. Now, her hair hung damp around her shoulders as she stepped back into the bedroom.

Ginny was ready for the evening. Her hair was dry, makeup in place and her dress hung perfectly. Hermione nearly wondered aloud at her ability to get ready so quickly, but decided to let it go. She must have made a face, however, because Ginny shrugged slightly before looking down at her dress.

“Practice.”

Hermione just nodded and Ginny directed her to a chair, immediately beginning to work with her wand. The long curls that Hermione had worn for so long were being quickly straightened. Ginny seemed to be far more adept at achieving this than the potion Hermione had last used in fourth year. The straightening went quickly enough and Ginny began tucking on the long strands, pulling the hair off of Hermione’s neck and into a loose up-do. With several waves of her wand, Ginny had secured the hairstyle and was adding the bronze necklace to Hermione’s outfit. Another wave of the wand and shimmery powder dusted her exposed shoulders.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, Ginny grinned. “You look gorgeous, Hermione. I swear it.”

Hermione felt suddenly and inexplicably nervous. She had sat through Ginny’s ministrations with a sort of detached amusement, amazed at herself for allowing such silliness as what she thought basically amounted to a game of dress-up. Now, however, she was serious. She was getting ready for her first night out in, well, forever. Ginny looked at ease in her designer dress, perfect makeup and expertly styled hair; Hermione felt like she was walking around in someone else’s skin.

Ginny drew Hermione from her perch and pulled her towards the mirror on the wall. Gasping, Hermione trailed her gaze down its full-length, trying to comprehend the figure in front of her. She was twenty-three, not far off from twenty-four, but looked better than she ever had. Her figure was slightly curvy and she was shorter than Ginny, but the dress she had picked complimented her coloring well. Her skin was rosy, much better than the paleness that had robed her for the past few years; all of the sunshine she had been getting had definitely improved her overall appearance. Ginny had pulled her hair back, exposing her neck, but had left a few strands loose to frame her face. Hermione was somewhat astonished by the entire effect and wondered mildly if it was actually her own reflection.

“You’ll knock ‘em dead,” the wizarding mirror said, in an oddly misplaced American accent. Hermione and Ginny both giggled and picked up their handbags for the evening.

Ron and Harry were waiting in the parlor. Ron had on a black suit with a white shirt, but no tie. Harry was wearing charcoal slacks and the darkest green shirt Hermione had ever seen. They were standing in front of the fireplace, chatting easily but hadn’t noticed Hermione and Ginny yet. With a little “ahem” noise from Ginny, they both turned to look in the direction of the hallway.

With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione allowed her eyes to travel over the full length of Harry’s form. The shirt and pants were both tailored, with the green shirt making his eyes stand out and the gray pants making him look very tall. She felt that damned flutter once more and quickly averted her eyes to the floor.

“Wow, Hermione. You look fantastic.” It was Ron who spoke first, crossing the room in a few quick strides to kiss Hermione gently on the cheek. Harry, she noticed, was still standing by the fireplace and was gaping at her. She smirked slightly, feeling relieved that she apparently wasn’t the only one who was speechless.

“And what about me? I suppose I should have picked something other than this old rag,” Ginny added jokingly.

“Well, you’re my sister. If it were up to me, you’d go everywhere with your cloak buttoned to your chin.”

“Oh, how very Victorian of you, Ron.” This remark came from Andie, who had just wandered into the room. She was wearing a violet dress and her dark hair was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Ron left Hermione’s side and grabbed his wife into a hug, kissing her gently. He whispered something to her and Andie only blushed before disentangling herself from her husband’s arms and moving to talk to Ginny.

The little scene between Ron and Andie seemed to jolt Harry out of whatever sort of state he had got himself into and he quickly moved to Hermione’s side.

“You really do look amazing, you know,” he whispered.

Hermione grinned cheekily at him. “Thank you.”

Harry’s response was lost as Ron pushed everyone towards the front door. Huddled together, they each apparated to a small service alley next to the Leaky Cauldron.

The old tavern hadn’t changed since Hermione’s school days, but she knew from the Daily Prophet that Diagon Alley wouldn’t be much like she remembered it all. Many of the war veterans had been shaken by what they’d seen, but the wizarding world had bumped right along, enjoying a great deal of post-war prosperity. Diagon Alley, Hermione knew, had been on the receiving end of vast improvements. They made their way quickly through all the hubbub of the Leaky Cauldron, waving at Tom as they passed through.

Ron held the door for the rear courtyard, letting the ladies pass ahead of him and Harry moved to open the entrance to the alley. The site that met Hermione’s eyes dazzled her. There were countless little fairy lights strung up on the store fronts and wizards and witches dressed up for a night out pushed to and fro on the street. Knockturn Alley had been dismantled immediately after the war and a few enterprising witches had turned it into a favorite nightspot. There were a few restaurants, a club or two and a large theatre that was right across from Gringott’s, which was the group’s primary destination for the evening. Inevitably, the store owners in the main part of Diagon Alley had latched onto all the partygoers and kept their shops open on weekend nights. Many couples and groups of young witches and wizards flitted in and out of these shops, carrying bags and comparing purchases.

Ron and Andie were leading the group, with Ginny following close behind, but Harry and Hermione were hanging back and taking in all the sights. This was Hermione’s first trip back into the heart of the wizarding world since before her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had a longing to just sit right down at Florean Fortescue’s and just watch everyone move by. Certainly the people she was seeing were much younger than the traditional group that milled around during the day. There was a definite electricity and excitement in the air. Seizing the moment, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand, giving it a squeeze and laughing.

“Can you believe all this?” he asked her, seeming to sense what she was laughing about.

Hermione shook her head. “Definitely not. A few years ago, this place would have been deserted this time of night. All the little shops closed at five on the dot. Now look! I’ve never seen this place so busy.”

“It was all those little old witches around all the time, I think. Always made me want to toe the line, have dinner right at five and bed by eight. This is definitely the influence of the younger set.”

“Absolutely. They earned it didn’t they? This whole new world?” she felt odd for a moment, wondering if she had earned this as well.

“We earned this, Hermione.” Harry’s tone was very serious and he seemed distant once more. Hermione squeezed his hand gently again, before letting it go and increasing her pace to keep up with everyone else. They were both somewhat subdued the rest of the walk to the new theatre, which seemed to be the focus of all the evening’s activities.

There was already a long line snaking down the street from the entrance to the large building. The architecture mimicked one of Hermione’s favorite buildings: The Globe Theatre. It too was an open-air theatre, but the area around it was charmed so that it would remain open year-round. The walls were a smooth stone and there wasn’t any thatch roofing to be seen. The shape, however, was still the same and Hermione was reminded of summer plays with her parents in Southwark. Tonight was opening night for A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the long line let Hermione know that it was undoubtedly sold out.

A flash of light brought Hermione’s attention round to a group of reporters clustered around the entrance, snapping photos of the gathered crowds. There was a shout and she noticed some anonymous person pointing directly at their small group. The reporters rounded on them and a spew of questions erupted from them.

“Miss Granger! What brings you to Diagon Alley after all these years?”

“Mr. Potter, have you returned to England for good?”

“Mr. Weasley, is this your wife? Ms. Weasley, have you brought a date with you tonight?”

Instantly, Hermione felt her whole face flush and was grateful when Harry and Ron pulled her, Andie and Ginny closer together and began pushing back the reporters. It was Ron who stepped up to answer the questions being fired at them.

“We’re just out for the night folks – hoping to enjoy a great play here tonight. No need to cause a fuss.”

“Mr. Weasley, what do you have to say about the accusations that you all deserted us after the final battles?”

“I have no comment for that. Really, we’re just here for the show.”

“Mr. Potter, have you been living as a muggle all these years?”

“Of course not.”

“Ms. Granger-“

“Oy!” A loud voice echoed out of the theatre behind them. Dean Thomas was pushing his way through the crowd that had squeezed around them, obviously coming from the direction of the theatre’s doors. “These are my special guests tonight, you’d do well not to harass them or I’ll have you all removed from these grounds.”

A few reporters had the decency to look sheepish, but more than that continued to fire questions. Dean just kept pushing them back, trying to make room for Hermione and her friends to get off the street. A familiar face stepped forward and Hermione found herself grinning at Colin Creevy.

“How about a photo of you three, just for old times’ sake?” he asked kindly, holding his camera at the ready.

For their old schoolmate, Harry, Hermione and Ron were happy to oblige and they stepped closer together for a pose. Hermione slid her arms through Ron and Harry’s and smiled earnestly for the picture. Colin thanked them and they were released to follow Dean into the lobby.

“You could have warned me you’d be here!” Dean accused. His smile was a dead giveaway however. “It’s great to see you all together again.”

“It’s great to be here. Do you work here Dean?” Harry asked, beaming at his old dorm mate.

“I built it, actually. Was all Heather’s idea...”

Hermione was taking the in lobby, which was adorned with elegant decorations. The outside may have been Elizabethan, but the inside was strictly modern. There were glass doors leading into the main theatre and a contemporary looking bar set off to the side. The lights were low and everything seemed decked out in blues, silvers and purples, eschewing the typical reds and gold so prominent in many theatres. The ceiling above them twinkled with thousands of little stars and a large fountain trickled on the far wall.

“…we decided there needed to be something a little more elegant here. The clubs and restaurants are nice, but there needed to be some real entertainment.” Dean apparently had continued to talk at length about the theatre. He was leading them through the lobby and up a staircase that led to the upper galleries. They were soon being ushered into a private box above the large round stage.

“We had tickets, you know. Seats all picked out and that,” Ron said jokingly as he took a seat next to Andie. Harry settled himself between Ron and Hermione and Ginny sat on the end, at Hermione’s left.

“Oh, now that I know you’re here, I could never let you sit anywhere else. These are the best seats in the house, I guarantee it. Stephan here will be your host this evening. He’ll bring you drinks and something to eat, if you’re hungry. I hope you enjoy the show.”

Dean bowed gracefully before backing out of the box and closing the dividing curtains. Their “host” took drink orders and scurried away, leaving them all alone in the box as the theatre below and around them began to fill up. They chatted easily and looked for familiar faces down in the throng. Hermione, for her part, remained distinctly distracted at Harry’s closeness. He turned often to look at her, his green eyes focused on her so intently that she felt her cheeks flush every time. After half an hour or so, the lights dimmed and a gentle song began to float through the theatre. Hermione was immediately and gladly captivated as the stage brightened, bringing her into what was easily her favorite play and one that she knew almost line for line. As the scene in Athens began, she became absorbed and let her thoughts gladly drift away from Harry.

Intermission came too quickly for her tastes, but they left the private box and wandered into the main lobby, where waiters were circulating trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Hermione snacked on a lobster puff and sipped her champagne as she listened to the conversations going on around her. Harry and Ron were discussing something about houses in Hogsmeade while Ginny and Andie debated the merits of the show.

“I simply love how modern it feels. The scenes in the woods have been so open and so…sexual,” Ginny said.

“Ugh. I much prefer something a bit more chaste. I mean, really, it seems as if they’re all just running about, high as kites and all sexed up,” Andie replied, shaking her head.

“Ah, but that’s the fun of it. It’s a comedy, after all.”

“I think one of my favorite things about it, actually, is that it is so timeless. It can be done in a fairly contained manner, or it can be a bit racier,” Hermione interjected. “It’s just an easy play to enjoy. But anyway, don’t you just love the sets?”

Andie and Ginny both agreed on this. In fact, the theatre specialized in providing realistic sets for all of its plays and magic made all of the changing around much simpler. If she wasn’t mistaken, Hermione was positive that the trees in the forest were real and she knew for a fact that the fairies were actually flying. They talked further about the costuming and the music and intermission was over quickly enough.

The play was over much too soon and they were exiting the theatre again, heading for a late-night dinner. A handful of restaurants had opened in Diagon Alley and there was one that specialized in exotic fare and magical entertainment. A group of artists walked through the restaurant, performing real versions of Muggle magic tricks. They sat in a corner booth, surreptitiously arranged by Hermione so that she wouldn’t spend the dinner at Harry’s side and in agony, watching the acts and sampling fare from all over the world. It was the wee hours of the morning before they finally made it back to Ron and Andie’s, exhausted but happy.

***

August 20, 2003

“Damn it, Hermione!” Harry Potter had once again been blocked into his bedroom by a stack of boxes. This was the third morning it had happened since getting back from London. The Monday morning following their trip, Hermione had begun packing away some of her research materials in an attempt to neaten up the cottage and reduce all the clutter. So far, she only succeeded at piling boxes in front of his door and getting distracted by something she’d come across.

A fuzzy head appeared over the boxes and Hermione looked at him from the floor only a few feet away. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she had a pair of reading glasses pushed on her forehead. She was looking frazzled and was now blushing. “Sorry, Harry. I got distracted.”

“By what?” he asked incredulously as she began to help him shift the boxes around to clear a path.

“An article in the Daily Prophet.” She handed the paper over to him and he read the front page as he walked into the kitchen.

Famous Trio Makes Surprise Appearance in Diagon Alley
By Desdemona Nyx

Harry Potter and his equally famous friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, made their first public appearance together in over five years. This trio is best known for their defeat of Lord Voldemort the spring of their final year at Hogwarts. They are also credited with the destruction of Lucius Malfoy and a band of loyal Death Eaters that caused mayhem throughout Britain after the death of Voldemort.

After their celebrated defeats, they shied from the spotlight, withdrawing from our world nearly completely. Ron Weasley eventually took a job in the Ministry of Magic but Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter disappeared entirely, amidst rumors of their whereabouts and mental states.

On Saturday night, opening night for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Diagon Alley’s Apollo Theatre, Mr. Potter arrived with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, as well as Ginevra Weasley, long-time friend of the group and Mr. Weasley’s sister, and Professor Andromeda Weasley nee Dickens. The group was VIP guests of theatre proprietor Dean Thomas.

Speculation as to the sudden public appearance has raised countless questions from local wizards and witches.

“Where have they been all these years? After the war, times weren’t easy and we needed them!” Lacy Lurman, of Mayfair, is quoted as saying.

“I always thought they were too good for the rest of us. A private box at that show goes to prove that,” said Baxter Paddington, of Whitechapel.

“Actually, it’s quite nice to see them back again. They should be allowed to enjoy themselves,” argued Hortensia Adams, a self-confessed Potterist, from Kent-

“What’s a Potterist?” Harry asked, looking up from the Daily Prophet.

“Well, I suppose it’s a bit like a royalist,” Hermione answered, making a face.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, see, in the continuation of the article, it talks about the differences of opinions of everyone when we left. Some people thought it was nasty that we walked away, that we were deserting everyone. Others, well, they were okay with it. And those people are Potterist.”

“That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Harry answered, looking somewhat pained. “Why would anyone care?”

Hermione shrugged. “We were, well, we were like heroes weren’t we? Dumbledore kept you at the Dursleys for this reason. He knew what sort of problems you might have if everyone treated you differently because of what happened.”

“But still, I just don’t know why anyone would care that we were out at a play.”

“That’s not true. You know exactly why they care. That’s part of the problem, after all. You know that they care because they rely on you. You’re why they feel safe. It’s the burden you chose, Harry.”

Harry folded the paper, with the headline picture of them face down on the table. He crossed his hands over the paper and stared at his finger tips. He knew that Hermione was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t look at her. That face would be too much to stand right now because she was, of course, absolutely right. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before finally looking at her.

Hermione was looking at him with the strangest face. He didn’t even have the chance to study that look before it changed into just a general mask of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I wish… that I could take it away from you,” she said softly, bending her own head to look at the surface of the table.

He didn’t answer her, but instead got up and leaned over her to kiss the top of her head, pulling her into a partial hug. He kept his lips pressed to her hair for a few moments longer than was really necessary. He heard her sigh ever so softly and backed away from her. He quickly set about making breakfast and boiling water for tea. She sat at the table a few moments longer before taking up the paper and heading into the living room. He could hear her moving about as she packed more books away. When he knew she was out of sight, he smiled to himself, thinking of the look that had been on her face that had caught him so off guard.

A breakfast of bacon and eggs came together pretty quick and before long Hermione was back in the kitchen and setting the table. She began talking suddenly, about her project and about an appointment she had that afternoon with a Muggle geneticist.

“You see, there are two different kinds of genes, dominant and recessive. The genes required to perform different types of magic are all recessive genes that require that both parents have the genes, or at least some of them, for a child to be magical. The problem is that these genes are rare enough that people frequently get only one set of the genes. But there’s another factor involved. There are test subjects that have both sets of genes, but no magical abilities, like squibs. It seems as if there’s some sort of, oh I don’t know, trigger. That’s what I’m stuck on.”

“You don’t know what the trigger is?” Harry asked, feeling a bit out of his league for this conversation. He knew that this was mostly Hermione talking herself through something. She had done this frequently throughout their entire friendship. He was a frequent soundboard and thus understood that he was mostly expected to be quiet and just let her talk. Over this particular topic, he was more than happy to do so.

“I think I almost know what it is. I feel like - like it’s right there. I can almost sense it, but it’s just beyond my reach.” She had stopped setting the table and was just staring off into the distance, turning a plate in her hands. “There’s a key to it and I think it’s something to do with squibs. Anyhow, I want to talk to this geneticist because my knowledge is imprecise. We didn’t study this at Hogwarts and I have a lot of questions for him.”

“What time is your appointment?”

“Four o’clock. I’m going by floo to London and I suppose I’ll have to take a taxi from there. Should probably leave around three to give myself plenty of time.”

“Do you want butter and jam?” he asked, setting a plate stacked with toast on the table in front of her.

“Yes, please. What about you? What do you have planned today?”

He speared eggs on his fork and answered her between bites. “More counter-curse stuff. Ron has some notes for me at his house, so I’ll leave after lunch to go get them.”

“Are you any closer than before?” Hermione asked as she spread jam over a piece of toast.

“Not really. I think I’ve hit a dead end with the lead I had. I’m hoping these notes will get me to think in a different way.”

“Listen to you. How do you like all the research then? Was this a career that you imagined for yourself?” She was grinning at him, nearly smirking.

“Err, not quite, no. I think if I really thought about it, I expected something a bit more action packed.”

“Hah! Well, at least you finally understand that books have their uses.”

“Well, I always knew that. I just always thought they were better when you used them. My gut reaction probably always will be to head in both barrels blazing.”

“Jolly good then, I always like to hear it was me that prevented you from some terrible death.”

Harry just grinned at her as he was beginning to really relish this easy bantering in their relationship. He felt completely in his own skin around her, in a way that was even missing between him and Ron. There was something about her friendship that was comfortable and instinctual.

After breakfast, he offered to clean the dishes while she returned to her work in the living room. Before long he had showered and was sitting at a small table in his bedroom. His own workspace was fairly clean at the moment, because he’d spent yesterday filing away notes that he no longer believed would be helpful. On the table, there was only a pad of parchment (he hated scrolls and snapped the pads up as soon as they became available via owl order from Diagon Alley) a few quills and a large book on counter-curses and magical theory. It was a book that Fred and George had loaned him, as they’d used it back during the war to make true protective objects.

Several hours had passed when Hermione was knocking on his door, letting him know that lunch was ready. He walked out into the living room and mock-gasped.

“Look, Hermione! There are wood floors in here. Who knew?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Nice work, though. Where’d you put everything?” He looked around in a circle, wondering where all the books had disappeared to.

She blushed slightly and pointed at her desk. Underneath a small side table, dozens of miniature boxes were stacked haphazardly.

He laughed and turned to face her. “How will you ever find anything?”

Her blush deepened. “I, erm, numbered everything and catalogued it.”

“Well, do you at least feel as if you can work now?”

“Oh, absolutely. I couldn’t get anything done in that mess.”

“Good.” He waited until she’d seated herself at the table before sliding into his own chair and taking a cheese toasty from a plate in the center of the table. There were big bowls of tomato soup at each of their places. Lunch was eaten in mostly silence, as Harry had his mind lost in the state of the cottage. He was internally agitated that Hermione had to rearrange her workspace just so that he could stay there. For not the first time, he wondered how much he was really intruding upon her.

True to his word, he was readying to leave for Ron’s house when an unfamiliar owl tapped at the kitchen window. He cast a wandless spell that checked the owl for any potential harm before opening the latch to allow it entrance.

It fluttered past him and must have delivered a letter to Hermione, for it quickly came back through and went out the window. He looked into the living room and saw her reading a piece of parchment with a blank look on her face. He reminded himself to ask her about it later and slipped out the door to apparate to Hogsmeade.

***

Ron was standing in the parlor of his new home, adjusting a picture frame over the fireplace with his wand as Andie directed him.

“To the left Ron. Your other left - your other other left.”

“Damn it, woman. You have a wand, help me out here.”

Andie chuckled and flicked her wand, thus satisfying herself with how the picture was aligned. Ron stepped back and greeted Harry.

“Harry, whenever you get married, get the hell out of the house when your wife starts redecorating, that’s my advice.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll remember that by the time I get a wife.”

“It’ll come back to you some day, I’m sure. Hopefully, it won’t be too late.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and led him into the library off the kitchen. Upon entering, Harry let out a low whistle.

“Andie could give Hermione a run for her money with all these books. Looks like you’ve got a thing about bookworms.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Ron said distractedly as he dug through a pile of parchments. He pulled out a thick folder and handed it to Harry. “These are some reports we got in for months after the war ended. There were all these raids going on at old Death Eater homes and hideouts. These reports specifically mention any protective or defensive charms found, both light and dark magic.”

“These will be perfect, thanks.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“Actually, do you think you’d walk around the village with me? I want to take a look around.”

Ron nodded and they headed to the living room to let Andie know where they were headed. After Harry used a shrinking charm on the file and stashed it in his pocket, they went out the front door and onto the small road that led up to Main Street. Ron and Andie’s house was a two minute walk from downtown Hogsmeade and about ten minutes from the school. There were a number of small cottages lining their street and Harry knew that there were others scattered through town.

They turned up the lane by the Three Broomsticks and walked down past Zonko’s and Gladrags. A small dirt road ran past Madam Puddifoot’s and it was towards this street that Harry aimed his footsteps. There was a large house at the end of the street, angled away from the street. A low stone wall ran in front of it and Harry immediately noticed the thatched roofing and lead-mullioned window panes. It was light yellow in color, two stories tall and had two chimneys coming out of the roof.

“I remember this house from when we were in school. Why are we here?”

“It’s for let. I saw it in the Daily Prophet yesterday.”

Ron peered at Harry curiously, but didn’t speak. He waited patiently as Harry stood looking up at the house, his hands in his pockets.

“We need more room, see. I almost killed myself tripping over books the other day and now Hermione has everything shrunk down in these impossibly small boxes. We both need a place to work and I think maybe it’s time Hermione get out of that cottage.”

“Does she agree with you?”

“I haven’t mentioned it yet – it was just a thought.”

“I see. Well, I don’t envy you being the one to ask her about all this. There’s no telling how she’ll react.”

“Will it be bad?”

Ron shrugged. “You never can tell with women. Has she said anything about moving?”

“Not really. She seems unhappy with everything being all squished in the cottage though.”

“But will she move here with you?”

Harry had a very serious look on his face when he finally met Ron’s steady gaze. “I feel like I’m intruding on her life. I want to fix that and this is the only thing I can think of. She said that – that we have to do this whole ‘getting back to the real world’ together, that that’s what friends are for.”

“Well, it’s a really fantastic house. I mean, it’s huge and there are those little flower boxes everywhere. I’ve got on good authority that women like flower box things.”

“Oh you have? Well, aren’t you just the expert on all things women now?”

“Ha! I wish. Come on; let’s head back to the house so my wife can tell me what back-breaking work I have to do next.”

***

Harry was simultaneously nervous and excited to ask Hermione about the house. He had no idea if Hermione was ready to leave her cottage yet and he didn’t think she’d take too kindly to him being the one to suggest it. He checked his watch, and seeing that it was nearly five o’clock, wondered if Hermione would be home yet. He seriously doubted it, but opened the door quietly so as not to disturb her in case she was working.

As luck would have it, the cottage was empty and strangely silent. He made himself a cup of tea and settled down at Hermione’s tidy desk to go over the notes from Ron.

A few hours later, Harry was jolted out of his work when a large thud sounded behind him. He turned in his chair to see Hermione standing in the apparition point, surrounded by more boxes.

“What’s all that?” he asked, taking in everything she had brought with her. “And how did you get it here?”

“Sheer willpower,” she answered, chewing on her lip. “This is all stuff from that doctor. Some of it is books, but the rest is some stuff so I can put a small lab together to analyze the samples he gave me.”

“Uh, Hermione, this might not be the best time to bring this up, but-“

“Where am I going to put all of this?”

“Err, yes.”

“Well, Harry, I was thinking. I love having you here, with me, you know I do. But this is just…not working. We have no room, and we have too much work to do.”

Harry’s heart was sinking. “Do you want me to leave?”

Hermione laughed at this and Harry brightened a bit. “Of course not! What I was thinking, and I can’t even believe I’m suggesting this – you’ve only been here a month and yet, here I am- Harry, we should move.”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh. “That’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I just think it’s time to get out of this cottage, Hermione. I know it’s beautiful here and I hate the idea of not seeing the ocean everyday, but this is just silly. We won’t be able to get anything done if we stay cooped in here like this.”

Hermione sat down on one of the soft easy chairs and looked squarely at Harry. “I’m so relieved you think so. I need to be somewhere less remote right now. I’m at a point in my work where I just can’t be so far from everything.”

“Was there anywhere you had in mind?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not really, what about you?”

“Well, I did see this one house, in Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade? How close is it to Ron and Andie?”

“At the opposite end of town.”

“I see. What’s it like?”

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he said in lieu of an answer, for he had decided he’d rather just show her than try and describe it.

He told Hermione as much and they tucked into a quick dinner, getting through clean up with lightening speed. Once back in the living room, Harry helped Hermione into a light summer cloak and tugged at her hand, pulling her out the door and into the yard. Once there, he called for his Firebolt.

“You want to go by broom, Harry? Won’t that take ages?”

“Of course not. Is this ok?”

Hermione looked doubtful.

“Just trust me, ok? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As they climbed onto the broom, Harry tried to think of a time he had flown with Hermione just for the sake of flying. In the past, they had only flown together in the face of some sort of danger. During seventh year, she had been dating Ron and had flown with him whenever they all needed to travel. Harry adjusted his position slightly so that she could more comfortably wrap her arms around his chest. She let him know when she was comfortable and they pushed off, aiming the broom due south.

The night was cool and breezy and Harry was glad he’d insisted on cloaks. They flew quickly, skirting along the forest’s edge and occasionally flying out over open water. Hermione kept her face firmly planted against Harry’s back until he convinced her to lean back.

“Oh, Harry,” she let out slowly, her voice just a whisper in his ear. “This is amazing.”

They were flying over the sea, which was surprisingly calm and reflected the bright, nearly-full moonlight. The evening sky was dotted with thousands of glittering stars and the night was cloudless.

Harry felt his face flush as she spoke and pulled herself tight against him. He was aware of her entire body pressed against his, from where her arms were wrapped around his chest to where her breasts pushed into his back. She was warm and completely calm. Her breath was close to his ear and every so often, it tickled his neck. Goosebumps jumped out on his arms as they soared quickly towards Hogsmeade. Harry edged the broom to fly faster suddenly wondering what on earth had possessed him to suggest this method of travel. His whole body was in agony, as he had a strong desire to turn right around on his broomstick and kiss Hermione, safety be damned.

Shit, Potter. You have got to get out more.

Truth be told, he had probably been sending entirely too much time with his best friend. He had had a fling or two while hiding out in North Carolina, but that felt like ages ago. His entire existence lately had been dominated by Hermione’s presence. Of course he was keenly aware of what parts of her pressed against him – she had been his entire focus for nearly a month! Of course, none of this meant anything. It was just a natural reaction, especially for someone who had barely touched another human being in far too long.

As promised, the flight to Hogsmeade was relatively quick. They alighted a few feet from the stone wall that ran in front of the house. Hermione let out a soft gasp as she took in the house.

“Oh, Harry. This is just like my grandmother’s house.” Harry had to admit that the house certainly made a good impression. Every window was lit brightly from within and smoke curled slightly from both chimneys. Moonlight highlighted the flower gardens and the stone path leading up to the front door.

“Have you been inside it yet?” she asked quietly.

“No, but there were some pictures in the newspaper. It looks nice inside, hardwood floors and really big rooms.”

“What does it cost?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? You’ll tell me what it costs, Harry Potter.”

“It’s not much, Hermione. But any expense would be worth it. There’s even an outbuilding that you can have your lab in, do you see?”

He could tell that she knew he was avoiding the question. He was determined that he would bear the costs of this place. It was his fault she didn’t have a job and that she’d lived under the Order’s watch for so long. He needed to make it up to her.

“You’re feeling guilty again, Harry. I know that look. I insist on paying for half of this and you’re going to allow it.”

“Oh, you just know that do you?”

“I won’t move if you don’t let me.”

She had her arms crossed and was staring at him. He withered instantly and just nodded. She grinned and threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, I love it. I really do. When can we get it?”

Harry laughed, hugging her back tightly. “I’m not sure. I’ll owl about it first thing in the morning.”

She nodded and they climbed back onto the broom, taking one more look at the house before setting off.

The trip home was only marginally less painful than the first one, simply because Harry had decided he might as well enjoy all the closeness. They talked most of the trip back, able to hear each other perfectly using a couple of simple charms. As they reached the air above the village, they fell silent once more, taking in the twinkling lights of the homes and watching as a storm advanced from the east. When fat raindrops began to fall, Harry quickly pushed his broom downward, rushing to get inside before they got too wet.

***

The watch on his bedside table read 3:24 a.m. He had been unable to sleep so far, anxious as he was for the next day. There was more research to do and he felt already that he might be on a better path as far as that was concerned. There was also the note to write about the house in Hogsmeade. He hoped the news would be good: that the house was still available and that they could move soon.

Harry pushed back the covers, deciding he could at least read until he felt tired. He lit his wand and wandered into the living room, letting the light glide over the titles of all the different books. He picked a crimson covered one, with gold gilt letters reading Howard the Half – Strange Magical Accidents and Other Bizarre, yet Entertaining, Stories. Tucking the book under his arm, he swung his wand light around. On Hermione’s desk, he recognized the parchment that had been delivered earlier in the day. He couldn’t recall whether or not he’d seen it there earlier and his curiosity got the best of him. His eyes flicked to Hermione’s bedroom door, which was still firmly shut. Picking up the parchment, he unrolled it silently.

H-

I see that you’ve decided to meet your public after all- you should have listened to me when I said you needed out of that suffocating cottage. You look well in the photo, but as usual, your choice in companions leaves much to be desired.

Be wary; I’ve been hearing a lot about you and what you’ve been up to. You need to keep a lid on this as long as possible.

-D

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Thanks to my beta reader, Neil! Also, thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter III. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you so desire - I really appreciate your comments and thoughts!