Newts aren't for Eating

Midnight Meetings of Nothing

In the deep silence of the night, a shadow-cloaked figure moved stealthily across the manicured lawns in the quiet suburban street of Privet Drive. Silhouetted against the pitch-black sky, the figure stopped in front of an ordinary looking house. In the day it would have been rather pretty with the scent of hydrangeas floating across from the large bush under the front windowsill. Now it looked like the rest of the street; dead, cold and unaware that a power cut had plunged the small street into darkness.

To the figure crouching down next to the low garden wall, the loss of power was an added bonus. Quietly it crept forward up to the front door and pulled a roll of parchment from its black cloak. After a moment's hesitation, the figure removed its cloak before dropping it carelessly at its feet. For a second it fumbled with an unseen object before tying it around the parchment. A short time later the parchment sailed over the small house.

The figure tilted its head back slightly to watch the parchment's procession. A light summer breeze tumbled through Privet Drive, catching hold of loose curl and sending it cascading with its sisters over the shoulder of the figure standing in darkness before number four.

The door to the house opened slowly and a short length of wood thrust into the moonlight, soon followed by a scruffy looking teenage boy. Recognising the figure outside, he lowered his wand slightly.

'Hermione?' he asked, squinting through the thick mop of black hair hanging over his forehead.

'Hello, Harry,' the witch smiled and ducked as the street was flooded with light.

A second later she was back upright and looking intently at her friend. Harry Potter took his time eyeing the street for any signs of magic that would explain the lights. Satisfied that it was indeed the power coming back on, Harry looked back at the girl standing in the front yard.

'Er,' he started, completely lost for words. 'What are you doing here?'

Hermione brushed a stray curl from her face. 'It's nice to see you too,' she smiled and replaced her wand in her cloak pocket. 'I came to see how you were doing.'

''Mione, I sent you a letter yesterday,' Harry stared at her blankly.

'Yeah I know, but,' Hermione hoped he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes, 'I wanted to see you, to talk in person.'

Harry sat down on the cold doormat, closed the door behind him and motioned for Hermione to join him. The witch managed to sit down and sit in silence for an entire minute before sniffling. Harry shifted slightly where he sat but didn't say anything as Hermione clasped and unclasped her hands nervously in her lap.

'How was your summer?' Harry asked, breaking the silence in a whisper as a loud, grunting snore tore through the night.

'Quiet,' Hermione heard herself reply. 'My parents worked non-stop. I had to stay home.'

'Oh,' Harry replied and then looked straight at her with those clear green eyes. 'Hermione, you're visiting me in the middle of the night without giving me any reason or any forewarning. Is everything alright?'

The witch's eyes glittered with unshed tears and her bottom lip trembled slightly. She sat and stared unseeing at boy in front of her. Hermione covered her face with her hands, feeling the wetness of tears across her palms. The weight of the world was already laid upon Harry's shoulders. Even though he tried not to show it, it was more obvious every time Hermione saw him. It wouldn't be fair to burden him with her troubles too. Yet, the longer she sat in silence, Hermione felt her will weakening. Before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth and poured her troubles out. Harry sat listening to her, head tilted slightly to the side as he always did when he was absorbing information. Holding his head that way may have worked, but it gave him a slightly glazed, subhuman appearance.

When the witch finally regained control of her mouth she closed it and stared straight ahead of her into the short-cropped grass. Glancing across to her left, she watched as Harry stared at a space somewhere between the lawn and the garden wall. Sleepily she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the bones through his flimsy nightshirt. A thankful thought for his warmth wafted through her half-functioning brain and then out again.

'Harry,' Hermione murmured. 'What time is it?'

Harry sat up a little straighter as he was broken from his thoughts. 'Six o'clock.'

Then he did something Hermione had never seen him do, and swore extremely colourfully. Jumping to his feet, Harry looked around.

'What time do your aunt and uncle get up?' Hermione asked, cottoning on to how idiotic it was for her to be sitting with Harry outside of his house at six in the morning.

'About now,' he replied as Hermione jumped off the front step, the door opening behind her.

Hermione's first impression of Harry's uncle was of a walrus in pinstriped pajamas, complete with bushy mustache and huge teeth. His face, however, was a shade of puce that made her unsure if the man was literally going to explode.

'What the devil are you doing, boy?' he hissed, spraying both Harry and Hermione with spit, his beady eyes darting up and down the street.

'Talking,' Harry replied defensively. 'Is there something wrong with talking?'

Hermione cringed as the man's mustache bristled on his purpling face. She wouldn't have dared talk like that her uncle.

'There jolly well is if it's at six in the morning!' Mr. Dursley snapped. His gaze swiveled to rest on Hermione. 'Who's this?' he barked.

'Hermione Granger,' Hermione squeaked.

'So it's Granger, eh?' Mr. Dursley squinted at her and turned to Harry.

'Granger is a normal enough name isn't it?' Harry asked innocently.

Hermione shrank away, but Harry placed his arm protectively around her shoulders. This seemed to infuriate his uncle even more. Without warning he lunged forward, trying to grab Harry by the neck. His nephew was too quick and ducked out of the way, pulling Hermione with him.

'Get here now, boy,' Mr. Dursley snarled.

'No,' Harry replied childishly.

'What's going on?' a new voice asked.

Hermione looked up at the doorway where a solidly built boy was staring dully at them. He raised his ham-like arm and pushed his father out of the way. A shrill noise escaped from Hermione's throat as he grabbed her and hoisted her into the air. Hermione swayed in mid-air as Harry launched himself at Dudley Dursley, punching him squarely in the jaw. The witch dropped like a stone onto the dewy grass, too shaken to move out of the way when Dudley threw Harry on top of her. Harry jumped back to his feet and pulled out his wand, ready to take on his cousin, but Hermione hoisted herself to her feet and grabbed his arm.

'This isn't your fight, Hermione,' Harry told her, trying to shake her off.

'If you get yourself in trouble, Harry, it's as much my problem as it is yours,' she told him, gripping his arm tighter.

He stared at her for a instant before lowering his wand. Hermione released her grip and picked up her cloak, clutching her wand in her hand in case Harry was going to try something.

'You, boy, are in big trouble,' Mr. Dursley snapped. With one last glance around the street, he disappeared inside his house, his son following somewhat reluctantly after him.

Harry stared sheepishly at Hermione for a moment before grinning. Hermione smiled at him and looked away as an unexpected blush crept up to her cheeks.

'Now, that was an excellent way to start my birthday, don't you think?' Harry grinned.

'You're one of a kind, Harry. You really are.' Hermione smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. 'Happy Birthday!'