Circle's Close

I am not your rolling wheels,
I am the Highway,
I am not your carpet ride,
I am the sky,
I am not your blowing wind,
I am the Lightning,
I am not your Autumn moon,
I am the Night
'I Am the Highway'~Audioslave

*

Chapter One: Meeting the Grangers

Harry Potter's stomach gave a sudden nervous lurch, like the feeling someone would get when on a roller coaster, slowly speeding upwards before the big drop. The title "The boy who lived" typically provided a sense of comfort for him during one of these moments, and even now that reassurance was quickly fading. He tried to tell himself firmly that everything would be all right. Everything would work out. But the cloud of doubt kept hovering over him, stubbing out that optimistic voice.

Because today would be the day he arrived at the Grangers. Upon receiving a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry found out that he would be the Head Boy for his 7th and last year at the wonderful school of magic. He found out as well that Hermione, his soul mate, would become Head Girl. As soon as he had receieved his Hogwarts letter, Hedwig had flown into his bedroom with a note from Hermione.

Her parents wanted to meet him. The letter also had said that they would be having a quiet celebration in honor of the Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts. This was the reason he was nervous. He had already met the Grangers in the past, who were very nice people, and had always been wonderful to Harry.

He wouldn't be meeting them as Hermione's best friend, but as Hermione's boyfriend. He had never worried about meeting his girlfriends' parents before. Sure, he had had dates inside of Hogwarts, where one would never have to worry about peering eyes, scolding parents, the unfairness of having an over protective, psychotic father. Outside of Hogwarts he never dated and Hermione had been the only one he was serious about. Not that it mattered anymore. He was sure he would never survive her father and he cringed for the hundredth time just thinking about it.

"This is it," announced the driver.

Harry pulled himself out of his self-pitying state and stepped out of the cab that was now sitting in the Grangers driveway. Already Hermione, bushy brown hair, tanned body, wearing shorts and a tank top, was speeding out of the house at top speed. Apparently she had been waiting by the window for his arrival.

"Harry!" she shouted as she launched herself into his arms.

He laughed happily at her enthusiasm, and quickly responded to the hug. It had only been two weeks since he last saw her, but those two weeks were torture, and suddenly the prospect of being murdered by her father didn't seem to matter anymore. He was with his true love.

The cab driver smiled in amusement as he heaved Harry's own trunk out of the trunk of the car.

"There you go. You're all set," he told Harry, again peering closely at the lightning bolt shaped scar beneath his ebony bangs.

Harry paid the driver, thanked him, and Hermione helped by taking Hedwig's cage.

They walked side by side to the house, Hermione chatting non-stop.

"Was the trip OK? Are you hungry? Did it take a while? When was the last time you ate? Isn't this exciting!"

Harry laughed, trying to answer every one of her questions.

"The trip was long and boring," he replied honestly. "Which makes me appreciate my arrival all the more."

Hermione grinned and nudged closer to him as the reached the veranda.

"I've missed you," she said softly, gently pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed her back and pulled back nervously.

"I've missed you, too," he told her as he glanced anxiously around him. Hermione caught the nervousness in his voice, and the way his eyes twitched in every direction.

"He won't hurt you," she soothed.

Harry's eyes widened.

"What makes you think so?" he asked. She giggled. He just looked so cute.

"I've lived with the man all my life. I should know a little about how he acts towards my friends," she said and added, "Besides, it's not like you haven't met him before."

"Oh, Hermione. It's not the same," he said quietly. The last thing he needed was for Mr Granger to be lurking around the corner, eavesdropping on their conversation about him.

"I understand. Really I do. But you're getting all worked up for nothing," she insisted, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He nodded slowly, and motioned for her to open the door since both of his hands were occupied with the now growing heavier trunk.

Hermione swung the door open and called out to her parents as they both stepped inside.

"Oh good, Harry, you've made it," Mrs Granger called out happily as both she and Mr Granger stepped into view from deep within the house.

"Hello, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger," Harry greeted.

"Hello, Harry. The trip was fine I hope?" Mr Granger asked with a non-threatening smile.

At this, Harry started to feel the nervousness automatically returning. No one but Hermione noticed this, and Harry had to wonder why he was so terrified of Hermione's father. What was it about girlfriends' fathers that made them so intimidating?

"It was fine. Long, but fine," Harry replied before being led around the house as Hermione gave him the tour.

*

After a delicious dinner that involved barbecued chicken, baked potato, and corn on the cob, and after a scrumptious desert of apple cobbler and ice cream, Hermione showed Harry to his room, the spare bedroom right across the hall from her own bedroom.

"My parents were a little nervous, knowing that you'd be right across the hall from me," Hermione giggled. Harry chuckled in amusement as Hermione continued to chat away.

"Like we'd ever do anything in their presence. Honestly," she added.

Harry nodded in agreement, looking around the room.

"It's not your four poster, I know...," Hermione said, feeling a little anxious.

"No, it's perfect. As long as I'm here with you," and he pulled her close, getting lost in her scent. A mixture of vanilla and citrus.

"I'd sleep in the depths of Hell to be with you," he said softly into her hair.

Hermione sighed happily, lifting up her face to meet his emerald gaze. Every time she saw him she could swear that those eyes became more bright, more clear. Just like they were now.

"I love you," she said, and he smiled as he lowered his lips to her own, ignoring the fear of being caught by her own parents.

"I love you, too." He closed the gap and she moaned into the kiss, suddenly realizing just how much she had missed him. His loving kisses, his strong hands, and the way her body responded to him.

They broke apart from the passionate kiss and hand in hand they both headed back downstairs to sit with her parents.

"We were just discussing where we should go for dinner, darling," Mrs Granger informed them as they sat on the sofa.

"I thought we could go to Gusto's," Mr Granger suggested.

Hermione glanced at Harry and nodded. He shrugged politely.

"I think it sounds good. Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Well, to be honest, I've never even heard of it," Harry said.

"It's an Italian restaurant. Great food, great prices, great service and dancing," Mr Granger informed him.

"It's very cozy. I love it there," Mrs Granger said and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Sure. I love Italian," Harry agreed and Hermione squeezed his hand, giving him a loving smile.

"All right then, it's set. We'll go to Gusto's. It's semi-formal. So that means..."

"No jeans and tank tops," Mrs Granger finished, glancing meaningfully at her daughter.

Hermione giggled and nodded. "I'll find something nice to wear. Don't worry. Maybe we could go shopping. Did you bring anything?" Hermione asked Harry.

He nodded.

"But I may have to buy a new shirt. I don't like the one I have," he said regretfully.

"Then we'll go shopping tomorrow," said Hermione.

The two parents and the two young lovers continued chatting for the remainder of the evening.

*

Harry stared up at the ceiling, a blank look on his face. Sleep would not come easily tonight. At three in the morning, the rest of the house was deathly silent, so with that Harry got up from his bed, stepped into the hallway, forced himself downstairs, (as opposed to bedroom that was across from his own) and made his way outside to the backyard. He had a yearning to try out the porch swing that he had seen in their backyard earlier.

The stars were crisp and clear tonight. Not a cloud anywhere to be seen. The moon was full and shone what light that illuminated the backyard. Thinking of the full moon made Harry think of Remus Lupin. Thinking of Remus made Harry think about his godfather. Thinking about Sirius Black made Harry ponder about the home he missed terribly.

He hadn't been there for long, but it hadn't taken him that long to grow accustomed to the new home he shared with his godfather. He wondered if he was alright. But then, Harry had to remind himself that Sirius had survived twelve years in Azkaban, and had dodged the ministry for another three years after that.

"He's fine," he told himself.

"Who's fine?" came a voice behind him. Harry spun around in the porch swing, trying to find the owner of the voice. Upon finding it, his stomach did loops, turns and flips he didn't know was capable of doing.

"I'm sorry, Mr Granger. I couldn't sleep," Harry apologized quickly, aware he sounded like a very frightened ten-year-old. He scoffed at himself. He could face Voldemort, the Dark and powerful Lord himself, and he couldn't face a muggle dentist.

Mr Granger put up a hand to stop Harry from further apologies.

"Can I sit?" he asked. Harry's eyes widened and he nodded, sliding over to give Mr Granger some room.

"I couldn't sleep either, to be honest. I suppose it's difficult to, when you know your daughter is just twenty feet away from her boyfriend," Mr Granger told him.

Harry's face contorted to a look of horror.

"I...I--I'd never..."

"Not you, Harry. It's Hermione," the older man said.

Harry's jaw dropped and Mr Granger continued to speak as though he didn't notice this.

"She's been going on and on about you non stop. She loves you. I can see that even without her saying so. Both her mother and I know it's taking a lot of willpower for her not to go to you at night. But she promised us. It's part of the reason why we let her have you here," Mr Granger told him.

It occurred to Harry that Hermione's father was not only someone you should never cross, but he was also someone you could trust. Someone you could look to for advice, or speak to in confidentiality. He realized that Mr Granger actually trusted him enough to tell him this.

He also knew that Mr Granger was wrong about one thing. It was taking both Hermione and himself a lot of willpower not to go to each other at night. But he didn't want to correct her father on that matter. He would let him think what he wanted. He figured it was better than facing his wrath.

"So tell me about your godfather," Mr Granger said, breaking Harry from his thoughts.

Harry's spirits brightened slightly at this opportunity. "Hermione must have told you...that he was an escaped..."

"Convict...who's innocent. Yes I know. How was it that his name got cleared?" he asked.

"Oh...The man who actually committed the crime was caught. Sirius came through after hearing this and there was a court case for months. Wormtail--er--Peter Pettigrew, eventually came clean and admitted to the crime. That was what cleared Sirius's name," Harry explained.

"How did this...Pettigrew?" Harry nodded. "How did he get caught?" Mr Granger asked.

Harry shrugged. "I never found out. Sirius told me that Pettigrew screwed up somewhere along the line," he said, and suddenly wondered how Pettigrew really did get caught. Not that it mattered. As long as he was put away for life.

"He was the one who killed your parents," Mr Granger said softly.

Harry nodded, avoiding Mr Granger's caring and thoughtful gaze.

"He didn't actually do the killing. That was Voldemort. Pettigrew sold my parents to Voldemort," Harry explained, and launched into full detail of the Secret Keeper.

"Fascinating," Mr Granger said after Harry finished. "And this Voldemort was the one who gave you that scar. Correct?" he asked.

Harry nodded, reaching up to touch the scar he was referring to. He knew that Mr Granger was just trying to get to know him. In the wee hours of the morning it was a thought that could make him laugh. Mr Granger actually wanted to get to know him? Did that mean he liked him?

"So it's been you, all these years, that Voldemort has been after," Mr Granger finally said.

Harry half shrugged, half nodded. "But we think he's gone for good now. After last year..."

"I heard about that. Hermione gave us a very vague explanation. Usually she's so apt to telling us everything though," Mr Granger added.

Harry grinned. He sincerely hoped that Hermione didn't tell her parents everything.

Thinking about this made Harry suddenly very nervous. Exactly what did Hermione tell her parents? Mr Granger could know everything, and could be playing with Harry's mind. He didn't want to linger very long on these thoughts, afraid his fear would show.

Again he had to wonder what was it about meeting girlfriends' parents. What was it about the idea that sent chills down his spine?

He's a muggle, he could be carrying a shot gun.

"Is something bothering you?" Mr Granger asked. Harry's eyes shot upwards nervously to meet the older man's firm gaze, whose brows were furrowed together in confusion.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking," he answered, and mentally smacked himself for possibly giving himself away. Just then a slow blush crept along his cheeks, thinking of Hermione in ways that would give Mr Granger more than ample reason to pull out that imaginary shot gun.

"You gave her that ring, didn't you," came Mr Granger's voice, apparently thinking that his reason for nervousness was the fact that Harry had given Hermione a ring nearly a year ago.

"Uh, yeah, I did. For Christmas," Harry told him.

This time Harry looked confused. Had Hermione avoided telling her parents the truth behind the ring? Mr Granger seemed to look completely clueless, as though he was seeking answers from him.

Mr Granger nodded thoughtfully, taking liberal breaths. His eyes roamed the vast backyard, strewn with flowerbeds and on the far west of the yard grew a vegetable garden. His eyes then shifted to the dark sky, and he sighed deeply.

"Do you love her?" he finally asked.

His voice was quiet, though thick with emotion. Mr Granger wanted nothing but the best for his daughter, and in the early hours of the morning, he was coming to the conclusion that Harry was the best. He had known the young boy for years now, and not once had Mr Granger ever doubted him. He knew that in time if ever came the day, he could love Harry like the son he never had. Mr Granger sighed again. In fact, he was sure that he already did.

"Yes," came Harry's reply, his voice only betraying his most deep and profound love for the girl that lay asleep in the house, in the room across from his own.

Mr Granger nodded, not pressing the meaning behind the ring. True, Hermione had told them that the Ring had come from Harry, that it was a Promise ring, and nothing more. Yes, Hermione had told both her father and her mother of the Dark Lord's return (and even as he thought this, he could swear he was living a real life fairy tale...Dark Lords...Witches...Wizards...,he wondered if he would ever get used to it).

Something had deeply haunted Hermione upon her return. A witch that had too much on her mind. She was happy, Mr Granger had no doubt about that. He was sure that Harry had much to do with that. But there was something about their previous year that Hermione wished to keep to herself. Mr Granger had always thrived on granting ones wishes for privacy. He trusted that in time Hermione would come to him when she was ready.

Mr Granger then looked at Harry, who had a determined look on his face. Harry did not, above anything else, want Hermione's father to doubt his love for her. He knew that if he told him the story of the Ring , that it would cancel out any doubt whatsoever. But knowing Hermione, Harry knew that she had her reasons for secrecy. He would ask her later, when they were alone. For now he stuck to looking fierce, honest, and as challenging as ever.

Mr Granger chuckled softly, aware of Harry's determination. "It's alright, Harry. I believe you. Though you are quite young...not an adult even..."

But Harry cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Not to sound like a hopeless romantic, Mr Granger, and no disrespect intended, but I believe that love holds no boundaries. Including age. My parents, as I found out, fell in love at the same age, and from what I've heard, they were happy until the day they died, and even now, they're still together in the afterlife. I hold no illusions of my love for Hermione. I know it's real. It's the only truth I really know," he told him.

Mr Granger then smiled. Harry was too wise beyond his years. Already in love, planning a future with his own daughter. When he had been 17, he was still in high school, ready to attend University. Becoming a dentist. Career first, family later. Though he hadn't counted on meeting his now wife.

"I believe you Harry. I hardly think I could doubt you in the slightest, regarding the love you feel for my daughter," Mr Granger said.

Harry cringed inwardly again. He wondered if Mr Granger could see right through him. Could he tell that his and Hermione's relationship was more than just mere affection, and had escalated to making love on warm summer nights? The distinct sound of a shot gun clicked in his mind, and his heart gave a fear-ridden lurch. Mr Granger, Harry knew, most certainly couldn't read minds. Nor could he detect such details in their relationship. Harry mentally checked himself, and the shotgun produced in his mind disappeared abruptly.

"We should get to bed. My wife will start to miss me," Mr Granger said, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry nodded, and silently followed the man inside the house.

Bidding Mr Granger goodnight, Harry made his way to the guest bedroom, only to stop and longingly stare at the door that closed him off to his beloved Hermione.

Opening his door he stepped inside the dark room and closed the door firmly behind him.

To Be Continued...