The Minister's Daughter

A/N:

I just want to give a BIG THANKS to my wonderful beta LISA. She's the best!!

..............................................................

4. Getting Away

Hermione and Harry sped down the street on the motorcycle. He had to admit that these bikes were worth the trouble. They could never be compared to his firebolt, but they still provided quite an adrenaline rush.

Two black cars were trailing behind them. Harry was doing a good job at keeping them at bay. He was making sudden turns in the opposite direction, going through narrow alleys, or driving on sidewalks.

Hermione was beginning to feel anxious. At first, running away with a stranger - a handsome one no less - on his motorbike had been quite exciting. Snuggling with such a muscular, yummy bloke, with the perfect excuse of holding on to keep from falling off, was more than she could ask for.

But the agents were not giving up.

Hermione turned her face to throw an angry look at them. She wished she could make them... disappear or something. Just then, she spotted several trashcans at the edge of the sidewalk. She smiled wickedly thinking how brilliantly funny it'd be if the trash cans would just fall over and...

Hermione's mind froze as she saw the cans falling down, just as she had hoped. It happened so suddenly that the agents didn't see it coming. The cans rolled into the street and obstructed their way. The first car collided with an old car that was coming in the opposite direction as the driver tried to avoid the garbage cans.

The second car of agents couldn't continue after them since the two crashed cars and the garbage cans were blocking the street.

When Harry heard the sound of tires screeching, he turned to see what had happened. He stopped the bike and stood up to take a better look. "That's weird," he thought. He remembered passing the trashcans. There had been nothing wrong with them, and there hadn't been any people around to push them.

Hermione, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She was shouting and punching the air at the same time, inevitably calling the attention of the agents.

"Brilliant!" said Harry sarcastically as the agents from the second car started running towards them. He quickly sat back on the bike and sped off with Hermione once again. This time, however, the agents could do nothing, but see them drive away.

..................................

The Prime Minister was anxiously pacing his hotel room. Several wild ideas had swirled around in his mind for a while: thoughts of Hermione being abducted by evil, heart-less terrorists. He waited impatiently for the phone to ring. His agents were supposed to keep him informed, and he felt tortured as minutes passed without him knowing what was happening.

Just then, the phone rang. For one second, Mr. Granger thought that perhaps the abductors were calling to claim ransom, but he quickly shook that idea off. Thompson answered the phone. He had arrived at the Minister's room minutes after the agents left. Thompson handed the phone to him.

"It's Parker," he informed Mr. Granger.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the phone and listened intently to what Parker had to say. "An underground club!" exclaimed Mr. Granger. "I can't believe it!" Once again, he resumed his pacing.

"She what!" he said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. "Are you telling me that my daughter run away with a stranger?" He listened to Parker's reply and quickly added, "Try to find Potter and bring her back here immediately!"

After that, he hung up the phone with one strong movement.

Thompson didn't dare speak for a while as he saw Mr. Granger fume. Gradually, his expression shifted to one of worry and concern.

Thompson assumed this was a safe time to speak. After a deep breath, he decided to risk it. "Sir," he said, testing the waters. Mr. Granger turned to him expectantly. Thompson swallowed hard, doubting if he should voice his thoughts.

"What is it?" pressed the Minister.

"Well, Sir," he started in a soft voice. "You know your daughter's a very intelligent young lady. I'm sure this is all just some little... crazy thing."

"Little crazy thing?" Mr. Granger repeated. "She went to an underground club! She ran away with a stranger!"

"Yeah, but Sir," continued Thompson. "I'm sure she was only trying to get away from the agents." Mr. Granger looked at him questioningly. "You see, Sir, when a young person like your daughter has lived most of her adolescence under the close watch of a team of people, they're bound to rebel at some point."

"Are you saying that my daughter has turned into some kind of hooligan because of the security in place to ensure her safety?" asked Mr. Granger in a rather upset tone.

"What I'm trying to say, Sir," continued Thompson, amazing even himself with his boldness. "...is that Ms. Granger has always been on her best behavior. She's always taken care of her responsibilities in a mature way. I'm sure she'll see the wrongness of her behavior and come back to the hotel on her own."

Mr. Granger seemed to be giving it some thought. Thompson was right. Hermione had always been a responsible and mature young girl. Always doing everything by the book! Perhaps Thompson was right.

But if that was the case, he did have some fault in all this. "I never gave her the opportunity to live a normal adolescence," he said out loud. "She wasn't able to do the thing kids her own age do."

Then, Mr. Granger heard another voice in his head - the Prime Minister's voice. "But, Thompson, she's exposed to risks regular kids don't have to worry about. Besides, we're in a foreign nation. She doesn't know her way around the city."

"I agree with you, Sir," Thompson said. "It's not easy to find a balance between her two roles: being a young woman and being the Prime Minister's daughter."

Thompson's words echoed in Mr. Granger's head for several minutes.

..........................................................

The night's air blew through Hermione brown curls, making them fly as they sped through the streets of New York, causing her to experience a sense of freedom she had never enjoyed before.

"I can't believe it!" she said. "I'm free!" she shouted as she let go of Harry's waist and extended her arms out.

"If you don't want to be a free death girl," called Harry over his shoulder. "...you'd better hold on."

Hermione laughed loudly but did as she was told. Her hands went back to him - though this time she placed them on his shoulders. "I can't believe it!" she repeated. "We got away!" She continued laughing and shouting excitedly.

Harry continued driving for a few more blocks, amused by her excitement. Then, he pulled to the side and stopped the bike. "So," he said, looking at her over his shoulder. "Where to? You ready to turn in for the night?"

"Are you insane?" she asked, getting off the bike. "I just got rid of those...The night's young!" She started walking around with her arms stretched out. "I want to experience the city up close and personal."

As she suddenly seemed to lose her balance, Harry quickly got off the bike and was able to pull her back into her feet just before she bumped over a newspaper stand at the edge of the sidewalk.

"That's why you went to an underground club?" he asked teasingly.

As if looking at him for the first time, Hermione realized his accent did not resemble that of the Americans. "You're British?!" she said, half asking half affirming it.

He smiled at her while nodding his head. The smile on Hermione's face widened. Seeing that she was a bit unstable, Harry quickly suggested, "Look! Why don't I take you to your hotel?"

"How do you know I'm staying in a hotel?" she asked him, her wide smile not leaving her face. "Have you been following me? I saw you last night at the museum."

"Sure," said Harry mockingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That's my purpose in life, to follow run away girls."

A fit of giggles escaped out of Hermione, causing her again to lose her balance. Harry leaned forward and caught her hand. "I reckon you're staying at a hotel because you're obviously not a New Yorker." Pulling her back to the bike, he continued talking. "Now, be a good girl and let me take you there."

"No!" said Hermione strongly, while pulling her hand out of Harry's grip. Harry let go of her, but he was paying close attention to her instability. "I told you already... I want to enjoy the city! Now, if you don't want to come with me..."

As she said that, Hermione started walking away from Harry. He quickly caught up to her and, placing his hands on her shoulders, steered her back to the bike.

"Alright, alright," he started saying soothingly. "Just don't go anywhere on your own. The city's dangerous at night, especially for someone like you."

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" she asked, trying to sound offended. Still she climbed back in the bike after Harry got on it.

"Well," he replied. "You don't really know your way around the city, do you?"

"And you do?"

"At least I know how to get to this great place," he said as he discretely started the bike with this wand, once again. "We'd be able to get you a strong cup of coffee."

"Coffee..." she repeated in amusement. "Who says I need coffee?"

Without replying, Harry took off.

About ten minutes later, Harry stopped the bike once more. This time, they were just outside a place called 'Tony's.' It was some sort of coffee shop/bar that was still open. Plenty of people sat around on the various couches and chairs available.

Harry leaded Hermione inside and towards a comfy looking couch. They had barely sat down when a smiling young waitress approached them. "You two want something to drink?"

Before Harry could open his mouth, Hermione quickly ordered. "I want a beer!" she said quickly. The waitress smiled at her.

"Sure," she replied, giving her a quick look. "Can I just see some ID?" she asked.

Harry covered his mouth with his hand to hide a grin. He knew the waitress had to make sure she was of age to be drinking. The place could get closed down if word got out they were selling alcohol to people under 21.

Hermione's face gained a bit of color. She certainly was not expecting this. Not a single reference about providing identification had been made at the club. But then, she remembered Sarah's words.

Knowing it'd do no good to show the waitress her identification, but deeply hoping it could somehow do the trick, Hermione reached inside her handbag and extracted her passport. Harry looked intently at her. He knew Hermione was just being stubborn.

When Hermione finally pulled out the document, she extended it to the waitress, staring firmly at her. The waitress took the passport from Hermione's hand, her smile still on her face, and looked at it for a while.

Both Harry and Hermione were trying to read the expression on the waitress' face, but it didn't change much from the smile she had greeted them with. The waitress seemed to take a while to analyze Hermione's passport, perhaps more than usual. Finally, she handed it back to Hermione and simply said, "Okay."

Harry looked questioningly from one girl to the other. His thoughts were only interrupted when the waitress asked him what he wanted to drink. After a few seconds of open-mouthed, confused staring, he ordered the first thing that came to his mind.

"Water." The waitress nodded at them and left to place the order.

"Water?" repeated Hermione mockingly after the girl had left.

Harry shook his head to clear his mind and turned to Hermione. "Yes," he replied. "Water. You know, rescuing run-away girls is quite a tiring task."

Hermione, who was in very high spirits, started laughing at his words. Suddenly, Hermione stopped laughing and looked at him intently. Then, she asked him what she should have asked a long time ago.

"Who are you?"

Harry smiled at her, softly shaking his head. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he said. "And you are..."

"Hermione," she quickly interrupted.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't you have a last name, Hermione?" he asked teasingly.

"Let's just leave it at that!" she replied after a while. Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks. Hermione quickly took a good sip of her beer. "And what are you doing in New York, Harry?" she asked, smiling at him after the waitress left.

He thought about it for a while, not sure what to tell her.

"Let me guess," she interrupted his thoughts. "You woke up one day and your sense of adventure told you 'I should go to America' and that's why you're here."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

Hermione continued drinking her beer while animatedly talking to Harry. He had barely opened his mouth. She had dominated most of their conversation, which actually felt like a monolog as she did most of the talking herself.

She was telling him all about the sight seeing she planned to do in the following days, and about all the information she learned from the traveler's guides she had bought back home.

As Hermione was talking, her handbag slipped off her lap and fell to the floor. When Hermione noticed it, she stretched her arm to pick it up. She had barely bent down when her handbag was already in her hand as if it had flown up to her. Harry, who noticed what had happened, tried to make sense out of it.

"It must've been a visual trick of the lighting," he finally decided. There was no other explanation, right?

Suddenly, Hermione stood up, placing a hand over her lower stomach. "I gotta pee!" She announced him.

Harry smiled widely and pointed to his left. "That way..." he simply said.

"How do you know?" she asked, surprised by his knowledge of the ladies' toilet location.

For all response, he pointed at a sign that hung from the wall indicating which way the bathrooms were. A few more giggles escaped out of Hermione's mouth. Walking a bit unbalanced, she headed in that direction. She had only taken a few steps away when she quickly turned back to Harry.

"I'll be right back," she shouted at him. He waved to let her know he had heard, as well as almost everybody else.

Quickly taking the opportunity, Harry took his mobile phone out of his pocket and dialed Parker's number. "Got her," he said after Maurice picked up. He proceeded to tell Maurice where to find them.

"Be there in five minutes," came Maurice's reply.

Minutes later, a black car stopped right in front Tony's front door. Through the window, Harry saw Kath and Maurice getting out of the car. He walked out into the street to meet them. When Maurice saw Harry, an exasperated look appeared on his face. "It was you!" he exclaimed angrily. "Why the bloody hell didn't you tell us you had a motorbike?"

"Because I don't," he replied with a grin, making note to himself that he should return the bike. Then, without waiting for their response, he added, "She's in the loo. I'm sure you can handle it from here, right?" he said as he patted Maurice on the back.

Just then, Maurice's phone rang. He answered it quickly. "Parker," he said. "Sir, yes. Sir, we found her."

Kath looked expectantly at Maurice while he was obviously talking to their boss, taking quick peaks into the café expecting to see Hermione. But then, her partner's sudden change of tone made her turned to see him.

"Leave her? But... Sir," he was saying as he passed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, he picked her up. Sir... I know it's not my place to question your orders but..." He became quiet for a moment, his eyes closed, as he listened to the Minister's voice.

"Of course, Sir. We'll do as you say, Sir," he replied politely, but with a hint of disbelief in his voice that only Kath perceived. Maurice walked over to Harry who had just climbed back onto the bike, trying to take it back to where he had found it. Maurice extended his hand to Harry. "The Prime Minister wants to talk to you," he informed Harry.

Harry looked at him curiously. He slowly grabbed the phone and placed it to his ear. "Yes," said Harry. After listening silently to the orders given to him, Harry shot a strong look at Maurice, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Sir?" said Harry, not sure he had heard him correctly.

"You heard me, Potter," said the Minister from the other end of the phone line. "I want you to take care of my daughter tonight. I'm sure she'll be ready to come back tomorrow morning after a little controlled freedom. And make sure she stays out of trouble!"

Harry's mouth fell open. Had the Minister just asked him to baby-sit his daughter for the night? Had he gone insane? What was all that rubbish of giving her some 'controlled freedom'?

"Oh," added the Minister. "One last thing, Potter... She's not to know you work for me." After that the Minister's voice was gone.

Harry looked from Kath to Maurice, hoping they would explain him what that was about. "Don't ask us," Kath quickly replied. Maurice had already filled her in. "We're as confused as you."

"So... do I..." started Harry.

"Just let her do whatever she wants," interrupted Kath. "As long as it's nothing dangerous, or it'll be your arse."

"Thanks for the advice," replied Harry sarcastically. Just then, he looked into the café and saw Hermione returning to the couch where they had been sitting.

Turning to follow his gaze, Kath saw Hermione, too. "Better hurry," she said. "Don't let her out of your sight!" she whispered as she and Maurice hid.

"I can't believe this!" said Harry under his breath. Still, he went back inside and straight to Hermione.

"You went to the loo, too?" she asked, not even paying attention to the direction he was coming back from.

"Yes," he replied after a while.

Hermione grabbed the mug she had left in the little table before them, intending to empty its contents. But before she could grab it, Harry quickly leaned forward and took it out of her hand. "I think you've had enough for tonight."

Hermione looked at him as if ready to jump on him for acting like her father. But when she turned to face him, she found a pair of emerald green eyes staring at her. Hermione totally forgot what she had meant to tell him and simply smiled at him.

Harry got a chance to admire her chocolate brown eyes closer than before. They seemed to twinkle, perhaps due to the alcohol she had consumed. Then, he noticed her blushed cheeks, another effect of her state, and her pink lips.

She looked far more beautiful in person than in photos. Living in Muggle London, he had seen her picture in the paper or in magazine covers quite a few times. He had even seen her on the TV news, always at some kind of public event.

He had believed her to be some up-tight, rotten-spoiled girl. He now was thinking that he might have been wrong about that. Just then, her giggles brought him back to reality.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You're staring at me!" she said, stating the obvious.

Slightly embarrassed, he pulled back. "Sorry," he muttered. "You ready to go?" he asked. Then, he added tentatively, "Want me to take you to the hotel?"

Hermione, who was already standing up, quickly replied. "No. I do want to get out of here, though. There are so many things to see in this city. I want to start right now!"

Sighing resignedly, Harry stood up as well and followed her out of the café. The cool night air seemed to hit her mind in a strong way. The alcohol in her system made her sway dangerously as she walked.

Noticing that, Harry quickly caught up with her and placed a hand on her elbow to steer her in the right direction. "Here," he said taking her towards the motorbike. The owner of that bike was just going to have to wait a bit longer to get it back.

.......................................

Harry took Hermione to the famous Times Square. She excitedly admired the tall buildings, the flashing billboards, and the big screens. It was much better to see all these things in real life than on postcards or traveler's guides.

Harry continued driving until they reached Central Park. Suddenly, Hermione's stomach started acting up. An unpleasant feeling was creeping under her skin. She covered her mouth and quickly shouted so Harry could stop the bike.

He took one look at her green face and quickly pulled over. Before the bike had completely stopped, Hermione got off and ran a couple steps away. She kneeled next to a stone bench and finally let go the contents of her stomach.

Harry hurried after her. He leaned over her, concern written all over his face. Gently, he pulled back her curls to keep them out of her way and stroked her hair soothingly. He scanned the area and noticed a water fountain just a few yards away.

When she seemed to be finished, Harry spoke. "You want some water?"

Wiping her mouth, she stood up. "Yeah," she replied weakly.

Harry placed a hand around her waist to give her support. Then, he guided her to the water fountain. Hermione washed her mouth and face. The refreshing water helped to bring back some color to her pale face. She then looked up to see Harry staring at her.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said softly.

"Don't worry about it," he replied in the same tone. "I just hope you feel better." He raised a hand and dried a drip of water that was rolling down her cheek.

"I am," she said with a smile.

After one more sip of water, Hermione took a couple deep breaths and walked away from the fountain. She looked around, admiring the park surrounding them. "This is such a nice place!"

"It is," he agreed. "But it's better in the day. What do you say we come back here tomorrow? You should go to the hotel and get some rest."

Hermione raised her brow and asked him. "Am I causing you a lot of trouble?"

Harry quickly looked down.

"That's why you want to get rid of me, isn't it?"

Hearing a hint of hurt in her voice, he turned to face her. "No. You're not giving me trouble, Hermione. It's been great meeting you." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I just don't want you to get in trouble for staying out all night."

Hermione smiled at him. "Don't worry about that. I know how to make things up with my dad."

Harry smiled at her. "Aright," he said after a while. "I won't say anything about taking you back anymore. When you're ready, you'll let me know, okay?"

"Okay," she replied with a wide smile on her face. Meeting this wonderful bloke was making her vacation far more enjoyable than she had expected.