Coming Into His Own

Chapter 5: A Chance Meeting

The late afternoon sun beat down on the back of Harry's neck, as he walked down the street. To his right were people sitting in the outdoor café, enjoying their large cups of coffee or some other caffeinated beverage. The streets were a lot quieter than a few weeks before, when tourists flocked to the neighborhood for the street carnival. But now, Harry was greeted by people who hurried past him with bags full of purchases from the Portobello Market. Harry walked another block, until he came to his destination and knocked on the door.

"Cme in," Sirius said quickly, as he glanced over his shoulder to the kitchen. He then left the door open and walked back to the stove. "I don't want this stuff to burn," he muttered as he attended to the food. "You like vegetable stir fry, don't you?" His eyes were fixed on Harry, as he waited for an answer. But before Harry could respond, he reached for the bottle of soy sauce that sat on his hastily constructed spice rack and poured some of the contents into his wok.

Harry slowly walked into the flat and closed the door behind him. He glanced curiously at Sirius; the man had never used his kitchen for anything other than fixing himself a drink. That a homemade meal would greet him instead of takeout baffled Harry. But he said nothing and took a seat near the long island, and glanced at the pans bubbling away on the stove. A bowl of steaming rice was already resting on the counter.

"Since when did you start cooking?" Harry asked.

With his head still lowered, Sirius quickly shot Harry a glance. He scratched his stubble-ridden chin and smiled. "I thought it was about time I finally put this stove to good use."

On close inspection, it was apparent that Sirius' newly found fondness for the culinary arts was not the only oddity; a book on the spiritual healing of herbs lay on his coffee table, and Harry was certain he detected incense in the air.

As Harry watched the spices and vegetables form an aromatic sauce in the wok, he asked, "Have you got yourself a girlfriend?"

A dark stare flittered his way from his godfather. "Don't be so cheeky," Sirius replied.

But Sirius provided no further explanations to these new changes, except for a few knowing looks. Harry finally gave up fishing for any answers and reached into his pocket. He pulled out an envelope of money and casually placed it on the counter. Sirius laid his hand on the envelope, before quickly depositing it into a nearby drawer. Neither one said a word, nor made any acknowledgement about this monthly exchange.

Unable to find any legitimate work in the Muggle world, Sirius now made his living as a freelance detective for those having qualms about their spouse's fidelity. And although the pay could be lucrative, the jobs were infrequent.

As for property and a bank account, the man had none - the flat was in Harry's name. Thus, the monthly delivery from Harry provided him with the cash flow he needed to go about his daily activities.

"Did you get any new cases?" Harry asked as he spun around on the stool.

"I just finished one last night. I caught the wife in a hotel room in Ealing with a younger man."

"It was a woman this time?"

"Oh yeah," said Sirius, as he quickly gazed up at Harry. "I'm getting more and more request from husbands these days." Sirius shook his head, and placed the vegetables in a bowl. "All these rich old men are going and marrying themselves young girls. But later these women end up straying. I don't blame them much; many of these bastards look like they're about to keel over."

As he spun faster, Harry's eyes fell upon a pink garment that was tucked away in the corner of the counter. He stopped his little game and leaned forward. Seeing the startled expression on his godfather's face from the corner of his eyes, Harry quickly grabbed the garment, before the other man had enough time to hide it. Harry lifted the pink satin panties in the air. "And I guess this is what the husband gave you to track down his wife." He raised an eyebrow. "But why did you end up keeping it?"

When Sirius did not reply, Harry added, "Now tell me, what devious acts have you been conducting with this woman's knickers?" He opened his mouth to laugh, but ended up sucking in his breath instead when he spotted a figure standing near the entrance of Sirius' bedroom. Harry coughed loudly when the woman finally moved into the light.

She had not changed since he had last attended her class several years earlier; the same gaudy beads hung around her neck, and her wrists were clamored with jewelry. A long scarf hung from her shoulders and trailed behind her, as she tiptoed into the kitchen. "What's all this talk about knickers?" she asked.

"Harry and I have just been talking about last night's case," said Sirius.

Sibyll's eyes fixed on Harry's hand. And without any warning, she grabbed the panties away from him. She then glanced up at the ceiling at nothing in particular, as her fingers ran along the fabric. "Oh Samantha," she uttered almost to herself. "You were not a very happy woman."

Normally such acknowledgments of the complete obvious would have caused Harry to roll his eyes, but the shock of seeing her in Sirius' flat - and in his bedroom, no less - prevented him from making a mockery of her statement.

She soon let the panties drop from her fingers and lowered her gaze, until she was staring at Harry. "I had an inkling you would be coming around here," she stated in a wispy voice. But she said no more to him and directed her attention to Sirius. A limp hand was then placed on the man's shoulder. "I have finished adding the final touches to your bedroom."

"Sibyll," Sirius stated, "I hope you haven't gone overboard. I don't want to walk in there see a bunch of scarves every--"

She placed her finger against his lips to stop him from talking - a gesture that caused Harry to grimace and look away. "Don't worry," she said. "I just cleaned up a bit." She coyly glanced away and added in a hushed voice, "And I might have tied a scarf on your bedpost, and placed a container of potpourri on your dresser."

Taking delicate steps that made her appear as though she was floating along the floor, Sibyll walked towards Harry. Her hand reached for his face and grazed his cheek, causing the young man to move away. "Something's troubling you, isn't it?"

Harry said nothing. He never expected much from her predictions in the past, and his opinion of them had not changed during that time.

"Someone has re-entered your life," she continued. Her hand remained near Harry's face, as she stared at him. But just when Harry was finally showing interest in what she had to say, she moved away and began to address Sirius once more. "Is that cookbook helpful?"

Sirius nodded.

She then walked to the couch and swung her large bag over her shoulder, before heading for the door. "I don't think I will be joining the two of you for dinner. I have a client arriving in ten minutes." Seeing the expression on Harry's face, she added, "I have a fortune telling business upstairs. It seems as though Muggles are more appreciative of my gift than you students ever were." She paused for a moment, before uttering, "Take care of yourself lad, for hard times await you."

Harry wrinkled his brow when she left the flat; he didn't know if he was puzzled more by the smirk that was on her lips when she gave him the warning, or that she had an association with Sirius.

Sirius, on the other hand, busied himself at the dining room table, as he cleared off old issues of the Daily Prophet that Harry had delivered to him in the past. No wonder he stopped asking me for them, thought Harry; he assumed his godfather now received information about the wizarding world from his upstairs neighbor.

Sitting at the table across from Sirius, Harry was only able to take a bite of his food when the urge to ask about Sibyll seemed to overwhelm him. Casually resting his fork on the plate, Harry leaned forward and asked in his most casual voice, "How did you and Professor Trelawney get together?"

Sirius paused as he was about to bring his fork to his mouth. He, too, placed the utensil down on the plate, but it fell with a louder clank that Harry's. "She lives upstairs. So, it was only a matter of time before we bumped into one another." He sat back in his chair as his face finally relaxed - he was obviously recalling their encounter.

"Can she be trusted?"

"Of course. She would never give away my whereabouts to the Ministry."

Harry lowered his head and gazed down at his fingers. He hesitated for a moment, but then finally asked, "You're not dating her, are you?" He closed his eyes; he was clearly not able keep his disgust from showing.

"No, we are not dating." Sirius reached across the table and grabbed Harry's hand, forcing him to make eye contact with him. "I enjoy her company. That's all. It's nice to have someone to talk to sometimes. Especially since you've been working long hours these past couple of weeks."

******************

It was dusk when Harry finally left his godfather's flat. Instead of immediately heading back home, he stood in the sidewalk and looked up at the large sign that stood outside of Trelawney's second floor home. "Tea readings," he said to himself.

"You're not thinking of going inside there, are you?" came a female voice from behind him. "I'd think you would have had enough of predictions."

Startled, Harry stumbled into a nearby bush, but eventually turned to face the woman. "No, I wasn't thinking about going in there," he muttered. He now looked her up and down. She was not wearing the red robes he had seen her in the previous day and her face looked more relaxed. He stayed quiet and continued to stare at her.

A gust of cool wind blew just then, causing her wavy hair to flutter in front of her face. She pushed the strands aside. "I guess I better be off then." But she did not move immediately and stood facing him for another minute or two - which forced an annoyed pedestrian to walk in the street in order to get past them. "Have a good night."

Harry's immediate urge was to say something to prevent her from walking away, but he could not bring himself to talk. He then watched as he finally gave up trying to initiate a conversation with him and started down the street. His heart thumped against his chest while he watched her increase the distance between them. He just knew that she would soon round the corner and disappear.

"Wait," he finally mustered to shout at her. When he had caught up to her, he stammered for breath, which was due mainly to the excitement he felt from seeing her again than from his light jog down the street. "I'm sorry about back there. You took me by surprise." He finally composed his nerves and asked, "What are you doing in this part of town?"

"Just taking a walk. I've been in the office all day with Percy. But I finally had to get out of there and have a break. I think he still might be working though. What about you?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Sirius' flat, and at its black painted door. He hesitated. "Same as you," he finally responded. "Just out for a bit of air myself."

"Oh, I almost forgot. You live around here."

Harry rocked uncomfortably on his heels. He then got the sudden urge to ask why she had not visited; but he did not want to disrupt the casual nature of their exchange. He kept quiet as they continued down the road.

"How did the raid go on Malfoy's house?" Hermione asked.

"How did you know about that?"

"Well, it seems as though our departments are going to be working closely together. I don't know all the details, but I certainly know that it involves Malfoy."

Harry placed his hands in his pockets and stared straight ahead of him. From the corner of his eyes he saw Hermione glancing up at him for an answer.

"It was all right," he muttered. "But...it wasn't like I thought it would be." He paused to reconsider how he felt sitting across from Malfoy that day. "I thought I would get a lot of satisfaction from seeing him get raided, but I just ended up feeling sorry for him." He quickly glanced down at Hermione. "Is that crazy to feel that, considering what his family has done?"

"No. It's a sign of your maturity, I guess. I don't think you hold any vendettas against other people like..." She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from uttering the person's name. "It just shows that you're not a petty teenager anymore," she quickly added.

Harry stopped walking and hooked his arm around her. His gaze flickered from her face, to the group of children playing football in the nearby park. "Do you think he's harboring Death Eaters?" He scratched his head and finally glanced down at her. "Mr. Weasley seemed very intrigued with his Paris residence. Plus, there's been talk that Voldemort didn't actually die." Harry's eyes lowered, as his voice became soft and solemn. "You don't think Malfoy's hiding Voldemort or his father in France, do you?"

"I don't know. I sure hope not." Watching the expression on Harry's face grow more tortured, Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right? You don't look so well."

"It doesn't seem like something he would do," whispered Harry.

"Why wouldn't he do something like that? He's a Malfoy. He and his family owe their wealth to Voldemort. So, why wouldn't he show his loyalty?"

"No. I don't think he would do that." Harry began to rub the back of his neck as though a sudden pain had just shot through his body. "I don't want to imagine what would happen if Voldemort came back. Having to go through that again..." He closed his eyes and sighed loudly.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," said Hermione. She waited patiently while Harry kept his eyes closed for several more moments.

When Harry had finally gotten thoughts of Voldemort out of his mind, they made their way down the street once more. After ten minutes of walking, they reached Harry's home.

Hermione took a step backwards to admire the building. "This is a magnificent mansion," she said. But she suddenly stopped smiling, and gave Harry a stern look. "I sure hope it's protected. I mean, anyone can come off the streets and--"

"Don't worry. Do you actually think Fudge would let England's most prized possession fall victim to a Dark Wizard?" He, too, got an eyeful of his home when he gazed up and down the building. "This place is well protected. A little too well protected, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems as though Fudge has taken it upon himself put place a surveillance on who apparates into my flat."

"But, isn't that a good thing?" asked Hermione. "You can never be too careful."

"I suppose. But it prevents Sirius from coming over. That's why I always have to go to his place. And he refuses to walk over here because--"

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. "Sirius? How's he doing?"

"He's fine." But he lost the smile that was on his face and lowered his voice. He leaned close to Hermione's ear and whispered, "If I tell you something, will you promise not to say anything to anyone?" When she nodded, he said, "I've set him up in a flat where you first found me."

"Why are you whispering?"

Harry pulled away and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I guess it's because I'm unsure about what spells and charms the Ministry could have placed on this block."

He glanced down the length of the street that ran in front of his home, as if he expected someone to be recording his every action. "McGonagall helped with some of the spells that are on the flat," he stated, "and she says none of them are invasive. But I don't know. I don't think Fudge was entirely forthcoming with her."

He took hold of Hermione's arm and led her into the building. "That's the reason Sirius won't step foot in here. He thinks he'll be arrested on the spot if he comes to see me."

"But I thought the Ministry called off their hunt for him?" said Hermione in a lowered voice. She then glanced to her right and left, as though she and Harry were being watched.

Harry elbowed her, when it was obvious she was poking fun at his overly cautious, almost paranoid, behavior. He leaned against the stairwell and chuckled.

Hermione sat on the bottom step and laughed as well. But when the giggling had died down, she asked, "Why would the Ministry arrest him, when they've made it clear to the public that they are not looking for him anymore?"

"Just because they've stopped looking for him doesn't mean he's off charges." When he saw the creases appear on Hermione's brow, he quickly added, "It's a long story."

Their conversation ended then, as he remained against that wall, twiddling his thumbs. "Do you want to come up?" he asked. He didn't look at her face, and kept his gaze focused on the front door, just in case she rejected his offer. But he glanced down when he felt her fingers entwine around his own.

Hermione got to her feet. "Why don't you lead the way?"

While Harry crept slowly up the stairs to his flat, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Did you know that Sirius and Trelawney are now friends?" He didn't have to see the expression on Hermione's face to know that the news shocked her as it did himself. "I just found out today when I saw her at his place. And the strange thing was that there was incense and scarves all over his flat." Harry shook his head. "He must be really lonely to want to her companionship. I'll try to visit him more often."

He then waited for Hermione to make a comment, but none was uttered. He turned around to ask if she had heard him; she was not there. He walked back down to the fourth floor. He found her huddled in the corner, with her back turned to him. "Hermione?" he said as he slowly approached her. "What's wrong?"

She turned around and finally faced him. Although there were no signs of tears on her face, her eyes appeared watery and puffy. Harry didn't utter another word and only continued to look at her. Hermione reached for the pocket of her coat and pulled out her handkerchief. She wiped her eyes.

"Did I do something to upset you?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. It's just that..." She kept the handkerchief pressed against her face, half shielding herself from his gaze. "You just don't know how wonderful it feels to be talking to you like this." She lowered her hand, allowing him a glimpse of a single tear running down her face. "I can't remember the last time I've been able to have a simple conversation with you without it getting heated."

Harry's fingers made their way to her face and wiped away the tear. As though she was incited by his touch, Hermione closed her eyes and lost the hold she had on her emotions.

"Last night," she managed to say, "Ron paid me a visit. The conversation, as you might expect, got very ugly."

Harry took the handkerchief away from her and proceeded to dry up her cheeks; the sudden flood of tears had become too much for his fingers to handle. "It's okay," he whispered, as he drew her body into his and allowed her to cry on his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to screw things between us Harry," Hermione muttered against his ear. "I hated having to pretend things were fine with us when they weren't."

His fingers drove into her hair as he tried to soothe her. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," he said. "I don't want to live the rest of my life walking around hating you." He looked down at her and tilted her chin towards him. "You didn't screw things up with us. I mean, you hurt me...but I don't want this tension between us anymore. I've had to live with it for over two years now."

"I'm so sorry Harry. I'm sorry I did this to you and Ron. I never wanted--"

"Shh. You don't have to say anything else." Harry held her once more in his arms.

He closed his eyes, as her low whimpering echoed through the hall. When she finally grew quiet, Harry traced his finger across her face. "I want us to start fresh again, and not think about the past. It hasn't gotten us anywhere, except hurt. Agreed?"

Being somewhat choked, Hermione mouthed her answer to him. She then pressed her face against his chest, and closed her eyes as his body heat enveloped her.

Harry began to smooth the strands of hair that were now stuck to her cheek. A feeling of calmness and relief now surrounded him, as he continued to play with her hair. He ran his hand down her shoulder, and along her arm; but it soon found its place on her face once more.

He opened his mouth to utter a statement about their newly rekindled friendship, but sighed deeply instead. His finger now ran along her bottom lip, as he lowered his head.

"Harry, is that you?" came that familiar voice that often greeted him on his way to his flat.

Harry squeezed his eyes tightly and muttered an obscenity just under his breath. Glancing down at Hermione, it was apparent that she, too, bore signs of frustration on her face. The woman's timing was ill calculated, they both silently communicated to the other. But they did not pull apart right away, and continued to stare at one another for directions on what to do next.

But Harry eventually turned around and faced his neighbor. "Hello, Mrs. Whistlethorpe. How are you?" His voice was flat, although he tried to sound happy to see her.

Mrs. Whistlethorpe did not notice Harry's annoyance; her attention was focused on the young lady standing behind him. "Have I ever met you dear?" She walked past Harry and stood before Hermione.

Hermione looked over Mrs. Whistlethorpe's shoulder to Harry, as she telepathically asked him what she should do. Harry shrugged his shoulders. Hermione took it upon herself to shake the old woman's hand and introduce herself. "I'm Hermione. Harry's friend."

"Well, isn't that nice. Everyone in the building was starting to think Harry didn't have any friends." She went back to her apartment and stood in the doorway. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." There was a sly twinkle in her eyes, as her gaze drifted from Harry to Hermione. "The two of you looked awfully cozy just then."

"No, you weren't," responded Harry. "We were just talking." He didn't look at the old woman as he spoke; he knew the smile that was on her lips would surely cause him to blush. He quickly said his goodbyes to her, before grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her to the next floor.

"Does she always do that?" asked Hermione when they reached his door.

"Yes. And can you imagine her and the other tenants having a meeting about whether or not I have friends?" He looked down at Hermione and glared at her. "Stop laughing, it's not funny. I have to...oh, what am I kidding? It is funny."

When they had finally stopped laughing, Harry reached for the doorknob of his flat. But he didn't have to look for his keys this time, because the door immediately flew open. Harry took a step back, almost knocking Hermione over in the process.

Ginny stood in the entryway, with a crisp white apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoon in one hand. "I didn't expect you back so soon," she said. "I wanted to surprise--Hermione, what are you doing here?" The smile on her face faded when her stare flickered down to Harry and Hermione's interlocking hands.

Hermione quickly pulled her hand away from Harry's grasp.

Harry immediately noticed the awkward manner in which Hermione now fidgeted with the buttons of her jacket. "Hermione and I met on my way back here," he said to Ginny, although his eyes were still locked onto the other woman. "I invited her up, since she's never seen my flat."

"That's a great idea," said Ginny. She reached out for Harry and wrapped her arm around his. "Hermione, you're more than welcomed to join us for dinner. We're having spaghetti." Before Hermione had a chance to accept the invitation, Ginny brought the wooden spoon to Harry's mouth. "Taste this and tell me if the sauce has enough seasoning."

Harry reluctantly tasted the sauce on the end of the spoon - he had no choice; it was being shoved into his mouth. "It tastes fine," he muttered as he licked his lips. He soon felt Ginny's fingers on his face, as she wiped the tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Hermione, all the while, stood a few feet away and watched them. "I'll have to decline your offer," she said. "I have work waiting for me back at the office."

Finally satisfied with the way Harry's face now looked, Ginny responded with a nonchalant, "That's too bad. Maybe next time." She would have said more, but quickly headed back to the kitchen to attend to that evening's meal when she detected a burning odor.

Meanwhile, Hermione quietly headed to the stairs. But her escape was foiled when Harry took hold of her arm. "Don't go," he said in a soft voice. "I want you here with me."

"It looks as though you already have company." Hermione looked up at his face and tried to give him a genuine smile. "I'll see you at work." She headed down the stairs, leaving him in the doorway.