Jimmy

Chapter 7: Trick Candles

Nine Years Later...

Harry gave his aunt a half-smile. "Thanks for the ride, Aunt Petunia."

"Not a problem, Harry," Aunt Petunia answered. "Have a nice time...I'll see you next summer."

Harry waved as his aunt drove off, then turned to the yellow house in front of him. He took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and knocked.

The door flew open, revealing a sixteen-year-old girl with bushy brown hair and a huge smile. "Harry!"

"Hermione!" Harry said, giving her a hug. "How are you?"

"Great! Come in, I'll show you around."

Harry followed her into the house. He frowned as he went through the living room. Wow, there's something really familiar about that sofa, he thought.

Hermione pointed to a small room. "That's the guest room. Go ahead and put your things up, and if you want I'll show you the rest of the house."

Harry put his trunk in a convenient place--the foot of his bed--and set Hedwig's cage on top of the low dresser. "See you, Hedwig," he said quietly as he stepped into the hall.

Hermione was waiting. "Okay, the bathroom is right here." She opened the door across the hall, revealing a green tiled room. The two of them moved to the next door. "My parent's room. Right across the hall from them is my little sister's room--she's seven. And this"--she pointed to a honey-colored door with a Gryffindor pennant on it--"is my room. Come on in."

Harry followed her into the room. It had a decidedly homey feel to it. Harry's eyes fell on a battered book of nursery rhymes on the floor in front of an armchair. "What's that?" he asked Hermione, pointing to it.

Hermione picked it up and frowned. "It's supposed to be on the she--" She stopped and scowled. "Hippolyta. I'm going to kill her."

"Hippolyta?" Harry grinned. "Are your parents Shakespeare scholars or something?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, Mum's minor in college was English literature, and Shakespeare was her specialty. How'd you guess?"

"Hippolyta from A Midsummer Night's Dream, Hermione from A Winter's Tale. I've read Shakespeare before."

"Well, we call her Polly for short, unless I'm really annoyed with her," Hermione explained. "She isn't supposed to be in my room unless I say so, and she's never supposed to touch this book. It's special. A friend of mine gave it to me when I moved."

She crossed the room to her bookshelf and leaned the book on a stand underneath of a framed painting...a painting of a brown-haired girl on a white horse clinging to the waist of a black-haired boy at the reins. The girl wore a scarlet cloak, the boy a royal blue one. Harry moved closer to examine it...and suddenly he knew where he'd seen it before.

"Where'd you get this painting?"

A smile crossed Hermione's face. "It was a Christmas present from my best friend--the same one who gave me that book. I was about six at the time--yes, it would've been ten years ago this Christmas. Anyway, there's a cute story behind it...for Halloween my cousin Becky and I got him to Trick-or-Treat with us, and we put together this prince costume for him. I was a princess and Becky was a witch, but he didn't have a costume, so we put together a cardboard crown spray-painted gold, a sword made out of a curtain rod and toilet paper tube, and...oh, there was probably something else, but..."

"And a cape made out of your old curtains," Harry supplied quietly.

"Yes, that was it. The whole thing took twenty minutes--less--and then we--" Hermione stopped suddenly and stared at Harry. "Wait. How did you know that?"

Harry smiled and pointed to the inscription. "Your middle name is Jane?"

"Yes, but Becky and our friend--his name was Jimmy--called me Janey because--"

"Becky had a problem with her R's," Harry supplied with a smile. "She said them like W's."

"Yeah...how'd you know?"

Harry grinned. "Well, she shouted in front of the entire playground, 'You heard me, Dursley'," he pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten," Hermione reminisced. "It was when Jimmy's cousin Dudley was beating him u--" She stopped again and stared at Harry, her mouth open. Slowly, she grinned. "Oh, my gosh. I can't believe I never made that connection before. Your middle name is James, isn't it?"

Harry nodded with a smile. Hermione stared at him a second longer, then threw her arms around his neck. "I never thought I'd see you again!" she sobbed.

Harry hugged her back. "Neither did I," he admitted. "I missed you, though."

"I missed you too," she whispered.

They pulled apart. Hermione's brown eyes were shining. "One thing puzzles me, Harry...where did the book come from? I know it wasn't Dudley's or he'd have killed you..."

"It was mine," Harry told her. "I--I thought you'd want a book more than anything."

"I did, but...it was yours? I didn't know you had that many things."

"I didn't. Besides the knight and horse you gave me for Christmas that year, the only thing I owned was that book."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You...you gave me the only thing you owned? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to have something to remember me by."

"But it was the only thing you had! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't take it if I told you. I just...I felt like I needed you to have it more than I needed me to have it...does that make sense?"

"I think so," Hermione answered. She suddenly smiled and hugged Harry again. "Thank you so much," she said as she cried with happiness. "It means so much more to me now that I know..."

Harry smiled her, a single tear winding its way down his cheek, too.

"You're welcome, Janey."