Dream Chasing

Dream Chasing

Chapter 11. A Burning Love

"So, now that we're here ... can you tell me precisely what we are doing here?"

The old man blinked, his thoughts suddenly pulled back to the here and now, to meet the laughing eyes of the pretty young woman reclining on a picnic blanket beside him, head propped up on one hand, glasses pushed up to her hair with a smile that made him momentarily freeze, such that he had to remind himself to start breathing again.

"Careful! I wouldn't know how to explain to the authorities how a lecherous old man suddenly dropped dead on my picnic blanket in the middle of a park in summer England!"

He shook his head at the seeming irreverence of today's young people, and asked, "Am I a lecherous old man, Sarah?"

The young woman laughed and sat up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "All right, let me rephrase that. You're not a lecherous old man ... you are simply ..." She paused as she gave him a contemplative look - "lecherous."

Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (First Class), Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and currently Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (on leave) picked up his jaw from the grass and gave the laughing young woman a wan smile, the infectious laughter of his companion warring with the regrets and recriminations that he'd felt engulf him in the moment he'd spotted his quarry and set about staking their place on this grassy knoll.

His companion frowned at this, and gave him a soft squeeze on the arm.

"You, my dear, are entirely too serious," she heard herself saying, as she watched a parade of emotions pass over the old man's face. The blue eyes behind their rimless glasses focused on her again and she smiled, resisting an urge to stick out her tongue and make faces as he tried to frame a response. "It's no wonder ..."

She stopped herself in time, cutting her traitorous mouth from voicing out the thought that had popped into her head. But it was too late.

"That I drove your grandmother away," the old man said in a soft, introspective voice, as he turned away from her to look at something that had drawn his attention - leaving Sarah to stare at him in silence, amazed at how swiftly a smile could turn ... no, not dark, for there was nothing even remotely dark about this man - but dismal, gloomy, poignant, heart-rending-

Trust an English major spending a year in Oxford to start spouting off like a dictionary or thesaurus at the drop of a blanket, she thought ... but then, that was what sometimes happened to her: whipping out a pen and notebook to take down notes, running off to her typewriter to dash out another story that popped into her head....

Her eyes fell on a park bench occupied by a young girl whose long brown hair shone with health and frequent combing (done, Sarah was sure, to try and tame that bushy head of not-quite curly hair), a book on her lap, forehead creased in concentration ... she shook her head at the memories the sight brought back to her.

It was much the same way she had been at that age, she thought: a world full of books and fairy tales (although in truth, the books on academics fascinated her more than the fairy tales) - and she stifled an urge to walk over, grab the book and say, "There's more to life than books, little girl ... there are such things as friendship and bravery, trust and love."

She stared at her hands, a wistful smile playing across her face as she heard the voice of her grandmother in her head, intoning those same words to her when she was nine years old ... and stole a glance at the old man beside her as he heaved a sigh.

Unthinking, she reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. As he turned, she ventured a tremulous smile and an apology: "I'm sorry. That was rather uncalled for."

The old man smiled at her and shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. "No need to apologize, Sarah ... I should be the one to apologize to you."

"Oh?" Her look of confusion stayed for only a brief moment as her mind brought back the question that had started it all. She opened her mouth to ask, but stopped at the look of pain and sadness in the old man's eyes. She followed his eyes and, for a moment, wondered what it was about the small girl with the book on her lap that her grandfather found so saddening ... and realized, with a start, that the girl was not frowning down at her book, but was looking at a forlorn boy in baggy clothes a short distance away from her, sitting quietly on a rusty swing as he watched a group of smaller children gamboling around him under the watchful eyes of their nannies or mothers (many of whom were eyeing him warily).

She opened her mouth to ask him what it was about the boy that was so distressing to him when ...

* * *

"Owww!"

Sarah blinked, looking up at the two who had literally thrown her to one side, gaping at each other as they both realized that they were embracing her tightly - at the same moment when their brains were telling them that the other - literally - had no right to be doing so.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, for all the world as if someone had slammed a mallet between their eyes even as Harry whispered, "How do you know ..."

"A park," Hermione responded in a voice laced with surprise. "Mum and Dad had to meet someone at the mall ... I said I would be happier staying at the park, reading."

"I was nine years old," Harry said softly, as if he hadn't heard her, as if he was speaking of something that was only now surfacing in his mind. "I remember meeting Sarah ..."

"And her grandfather," she responded. A confused expression passed over Hermione's face, and she whirled around to where Professor Dumbledore stood, his normally twinkling eyes going through what seemed to be a cascade of conflicting emotions ...

Dumbledore's eyes broke away from Hermione's stare - or glare - and lowered his eyes as he nodded, slowly.

"You never told them, did you?" All eyes in the room snapped around at that accusing voice, focusing on Sarah - still on the floor, looking up from Harry to Hermione to Dumbledore. "All these years, and you never told them?"

James Potter's voice broke into the room, a mixture of anger, confusion, frustration, and concern evident in his tone: "Told them what, Albus?"

The silence in the room was so profound that it was easy so easy to hear the slight crack of bones and muscles snapping, as heads twisted towards the sound of a thin, reedy voice laced with seemingly unbearable pain singing softly, "Happy birthday to me ... Happy birthday to me ..."

* * *

Harry Potter knew his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the seat of the rusty swing ... he loosened his hands and wiped them on his trousers before swiping the tears he could feel on his face as he watched the children playing around him.

He was nine years old today ... a day no different from the other birthdays he could remember: waking up in that dark cupboard under the stairs with only the spiders to greet him ... tracing out a birthday cake with candles on the dusty floor ... and blowing it away as he softly sang "Happy Birthday to me," wishing again that someone - or something - would take him away from his miserable life with his relatives.

Soon enough, the day started off in the same way as everyday started off in the Dursley household: the house stirring as its occupants awoke, Aunt Petunia knocking on his door to tell him to prepare breakfast, rolling out of his cot before Dudley could start jumping up and down on the stairs to stir the dust of his cupboard ...

There had been a break in the routine this day, however.

Aunt Petunia told him to get dressed and clean up as he was going out with them. For a brief moment, he thought they were finally going to acknowledge the fact that it was his birthday ... the momentary euphoria quickly dashed as Uncle Vernon grumbled something about Dudley outgrowing his clothes so fast that it seemed they were clothing him and not his cousin.

So.

It was to be another shopping day for the Dursleys ... but that was all right. At least he could get to see some place other than the house and the garden - or Mrs. Figg's house with her pictures of Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty.

But even that was dashed the moment Uncle Vernon stopped the car and told him brusquely to get out. He had reluctantly complied and listened as Vernon pointed to a park bench and told him to stay there while they went out shopping.

"We'll be back for you this afternoon. Make sure you're where we can easily find you, or else!" he'd barked.

Vernon seemed prepared to continue but was stopped as he felt Petunia's hand on his arm and, with a final glare at his nephew, put the car into gear and drove off, leaving Harry staring at them in shock, the broad, pink face of Dudley sticking his tongue out at him the last he would see of them for some time.

"Happy Birthday to me," he whispered softly as he kicked the ground at his feet, setting the rusty swing into motion - and jumped off the swing in shock when he felt his back hitting someone behind him, hearing at the same time a soft "oomph!" of surprise, and he spun around, an apology on his lips - and saw a girl about his age on the ground behind the swing, rubbing her chest where he had hit her, a large book and a brown paper bag on either side of her, a look of surprise on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he quickly walked over to her and held out his hand to help her up. "I wasn't looking and thought ..."

Whatever he was thinking was suddenly lost, as the girl looked up at him and his eyes locked with a pair of brown eyes flecked with gold, framed by bushy brown hair in a face that was neither pretty or ugly ....

Her eyes flicked briefly to his forehead and he knew that she had seen his scar; for a brief moment, he felt the hand he was holding out to her falter as he felt muscles tense in an automatic reaction to brush his unruly hair to cover it ... but felt his hand tingling and he realized she had grasped his hand and he was pulling her to her feet, their eyes once again locked on each other but now with a sense of shock and surprise evident in their expressions.

"I'm sorry ..." they both said at the same time.

"I wasn't looking ..." Harry said as he tried to explain, but was cut off as the girl said at the same time, "I wasn't thinking ..."

"I didn't realize you were behind me ..." he tried to continue, and then simply stared at the girl as she continued talking, "I saw you sitting there all alone, and you looked so lonely and lost and I was feeling sorry for you and thought that you might want to share a sandwich with me, my mother made them for me so I wouldn't have to buy anything at the park, you never know what they make these things out of ... and oh!"

She suddenly paused, blushing, and Harry thought he had an opportunity to say something, but was stopped when she continued, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Harry Potter," he responded as he held out his hand, only to look down in shock as he realized that there was no need for that - he hadn't let go of the hand that he'd held when he helped her stand up. He glanced at her again and noticed that she was looking around her as if she was realizing something for the first time.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, puzzled.

She turned to look at him and whispered, in a bewildered voice, "How did I get here?"

* * *

Hermione blinked and looked down at her hands in embarrassment. She was no different at nine than she was at fifteen - still wont to mumble and ramble as she tried to explain things that were so hard to explain. She felt Harry gently squeezing her hands, and glanced up to see his green eyes on her as he whispered in a gentle voice, "It's all right, Hermione."

There was something about his eyes, she reflected to herself as the memories of that day broke through whatever it was that had held them back -- some thing that always seemed to comfort her, to imbue her with confidence ...

She felt a smile break out on her face, remembering the shock and fear of that day dissipating in the warm sunlight as Harry told her that there was nothing wrong or surprising in what she thought she did ... that he had found himself on the roof of the school's kitchens one time, when all that he'd done was to leap on top of a trash can to avoid Dudley's gang.

She could remember smiling, and then laughing as Harry mimed his expression at what had happened; and now, she leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek in gratitude at the memory - when Cindy's awed voice broke into her consciousness: "You Apparated? But ... but ... you were only nine--"

"Nothing surprising in that, Cindy," Lily Potter's calm voice broke into the room for the first time since Dumbledore and his granddaughter showed up. "It's a good thing, though, that the Ministry didn't get on their case -"

"They did, Lily," Sarah said.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore blinked, the thoughts swirling around his head jarred from their frenzied dance as he realized that a girl had suddenly materialized behind Harry Potter. He had taken a step in an effort to protect the boy but was stopped by Sarah's hand on his arm and her whispered voice asking in shock, "Did she just Apparate behind him?"

He turned to his companion in surprise, asking, "What did you just say?"

"That girl!" Sarah responded. "I was just watching her a moment ago on that bench" - pointing to where she'd seen Hermione a moment before - "she was staring at the boy on the swing and then, poof! She's standing behind him and ..."

Whatever else she was about to say was lost for the moment as both heard a slight 'Pop!' behind them and turned in time to see a young woman with violent tangerine hair tripping and falling, face down, on the picnic blanket.

Dumbledore closed his eyes tightly and shook his head as a smile broke out: "Good morning, Nymphadora."

"Professor Dumbledore?" The young woman looked up from the blanket, showing a heart-shaped face framed by the tangerine hair. "What're you doing here? And it's Tonks, begging your pardon."

"Of course." He helped the young witch to her feet and his smile grew wider as he contemplated her attire: leather jacket worn over a blood-red T-shirt tucked into tight leather pants which were, in turn, tucked into knee-high motorcycle boots that looked as if they'd been scuffed over years and never replaced. He heard Sarah snicker beside him and could sympathize with the whispered, "She looks like a biker babe" - as he contemplated his former student.

"Hey, don't knock what's comfy for you, mate," Tonks replied. She peered at Sarah in surprise but any further remark she would have made was interrupted as Dumbledore stepped between them.

"Nymphadora Tonks," he said as the younger woman bristled, "Sarah Chon ... the granddaughter of an ... old friend of mine. Sarah - meet Tonks, a former student of mine now working - I think - with the Ministry of Magic."

The two women shook hands as Tonks said, "Wotcher, Sarah ... I don't remember seeing you around Hogwarts before."

"Ummm ... actually, you wouldn't have," Sarah replied, slowly.

"You're American?" Tonks responded with a smile. "No wonder I haven't seen you. What school? Salem? New Orleans?"

"Actually ... Smith." Tonks' frown at the unfamiliar name was interrupted by Dumbledore who asked, "May I inquire what you are doing here, Nymphadora?"

"I'm doing an internship with the Improper Use of Magic Office," Tonks replied as she rolled her eyes. "Waitin' till a slot opens up with the MLES. Anyway, we got a report that an Underage Witch apparated somewhere in this area, so I was sent to investigate."

Sarah and Dumbledore exchanged quick glances at this, and without a word, turned to look towards the swing where the boy and girl were talking. A puzzled Tonks followed their gazes and squinted to see better -

"Blimey!" she whispered. "Is that Harry-"

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore interrupted her. "But I can assure you, Nymphadora, that it wasn't Harry Potter who did that bit of magic."

A puzzled frown met Dumbledore's sharp eyes, and Tonks looked back at the two children and realization hit her. "You don't mean ..."

"That would be the logical conclusion, I think," the Headmaster (on leave) responded. "Sarah" - and he nodded at his companion - "thought she saw the girl Apparate, but couldn't be sure. It would seem, however, that ..."

He shrugged, the conclusion evident to the three of them.

"Blimey!" Tonks said in a whisper. "She must be some powerful witch if she can Apparate at that age ..."

"Maybe," Dumbledore replied. "Although I understand that Harry did something similar a few years back ..."

Tonks' eyebrows were almost to her hairline at that statement and Sarah waited for the "Blimey!" to escape her lips, and heaved a sigh of relief when Tonks closed her mouth. She stole a glance at the two children they'd been discussing, and felt the corners of her mouth tugging up in a smile as she realized they were still talking and - her smile threatened to crack her face - were still holding hands as they talked.

She gave a small sigh of disappointment when she realized that they'd suddenly dropped their hands to their sides, and mentally thwapped herself for having romantic notions about them - as Tonks said, they were still underage and, apparently, were not even in Hogwarts!

She turned back to her companions, suddenly aware that Dumbledore was trying to persuade Tonks about something: "... no harm done, Nymphadora. Sarah and I have been here for some time and, as you can see, it appears that no one down there is the wiser."

"True, Headmaster. They couldn't be considered in violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery since they both don't know what they did ..."

"And the same holds for the Statute of Secrecy, since the Muggles apparently noticed nothing amiss."

"Still," Tonks argued, "I better watch them, just the same. They're performing uncontrolled magic and if something else happens ..."

"Sarah and I will watch them, Nymphadora." The statement was delivered with only a slight hint of Dumbledore's considerable personality behind it, but it was sufficient for Tonks to take a step back - and even had Sarah nodding in agreement.

"All right, Headmaster," Tonks agreed. "I'll head back to the office and tell Mafalda that things are under control ..."

"Thank you."

"On one condition." Dumbledore frowned at the suddenly commanding tone in his former student's voice. "Will you please stop calling me that? I feel like I'm eleven years old again with the Sorting Hat telling me, 'so where should I put you, Nymphadora?' I almost threw that darned hat into the fire when it started calling me names!"

A warm smile creased Dumbledore's face, and he held out his hand to her. "Of course. You must forgive your old Headmaster, Nym--Tonks."

"All right then," Tonks replied as she shook hands with him. "I'll be setting off now and ..."

"Harry and his friend will be in good hands, Tonks. Rest assured of that," Dumbledore said, correctly interpreting the look she gave around her.

"All right. I'll be off, then - and nice meeting you, Sarah," Tonks said. She hesitated for a moment longer ... and then gave Dumbledore a quick wink before she Disapparated.

Dumbledore looked at the spot where she was a moment before and asked, as if speaking to himself, "I wonder what that was all about."

"I think," Sarah said slowly, "that she's saying that Harry isn't just in good hands."

Albus Dumbledore turned to her with a puzzled look on his face, and she smiled at him. "He," she continued as she nodded towards where the two children were, "is in better hands at the moment."

He glanced at where she was nodding and had to smile at the sight of two children sitting side by side on swings, sharing what seemed to be an enormous sandwich between them.

* * *

Harry shook himself as he felt his mouth watering ... that first, glorious bite of the BLT sandwich somehow seemed to have stayed with him all these years.

It was a taste that he remembered craving at odd moments - and he blinked in surprise and a dawning comprehension as he remembered Ron introducing him to Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans on the Hogwarts Express ...

They'd gone through a whole lot of those beans, he remembered; but now, as he looked back at that first experience, he realized that it wasn't the novelty of the wizarding candy that had enthralled him ... it wasn't his amazement as his mouth registered the taste of toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine - even a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

He'd been looking for a bean that would have the combined tastes of bacon, lettuce and tomato ... slathered with mayonnaise between slices of white bread ... the taste of the sandwiches that Hermione had shared with him --

And felt a sudden wave of melancholy wash over him, gripping him in its dark power, infusing his soul with a feeling of embarrassment, humiliation ... shame for his miserable existence with the Dursleys ...

He could feel Hermione squeezing his hand in sympathy, but he didn't respond to her assurance and support. He forced his eyes to look up at Sarah - and met her twinkling eyes as he whispered hoarsely, "Thank you, Sarah ..."

* * *

He had never tasted anything so wonderful in his life - and he had to force himself to savor that first bite, rather than wolf it down as his growling stomach and watering mouth demanded. He carefully chewed that first, wonderful bite of the sandwich and turned grateful eyes on his companion - and felt himself frowning as he saw that she hadn't taken a bite yet, but was busy groping inside the paper bag she'd brought with her - her eyes scanning the ground around them, behind them and towards the bench where she'd been sitting at before she showed up behind him.

He was about to swallow the food when he heard her whispering - and it suddenly felt as if he had ashes in his mouth: "Oh no! Mum forgot to include the soda! And I don't have any money with me ..."

Neither did he.

He'd thought that being with the Dursleys meant that he'd be having lunch with them at the mall; as such, he hadn't thought to bring anything from his carefully hoarded (though pitiful) stack of coins painstakingly collected from his meager allowance over the years. And the abrupt booting he'd received when they arrived at the park had left him so surprised that he hadn't even thought of asking for some money from Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia when they left him.

And now he had nothing to give to the wonderful girl who'd saved him from starvation. He tried to swallow the food down his suddenly dry throat, his brain running feverishly over various scenarios to get him out of this situation: look for a water fountain ... approach one of the nannies or mothers nearby and ask for a drink of water ... perhaps go down on his knees and beg for something ...

And nearly jumped out of his skin - and felt the food pushed down his throat as he swallowed reflexively in surprise - when an American-accented voice spoke up behind them: "Excuse me? Would either of you children want some soda?"

He swung around to look up into the face of a smiling young woman of sixteen, her pretty face with smiling eyes behind her glasses, her long, black hair waving gently in the breeze and, in her hands -- two sweating cans of Coke. He smiled back at her, relieved at having an answer to his dilemma, and was about to reach out and grab the Cokes when he felt Hermione's hand on his arm -

"Mummy told me never to accept anything from strangers," she said in a firm and bossy tone of voice. He could feel his throat working up a protest at Hermione's statement, suddenly afraid that his salvation would disappear, but stopped as he saw the young woman's smile widen even more.

"Sound advice, my dear," the young lady said. She carefully shifted a can to her left hand and held her right hand out to them. "I'm Sarah Chon. I'm twenty years old - turning twenty-one in December. I'm American, currently a student at Oxford University ... and I'm here with my grandfather over there (and she waved a hand at Dumbledore, who was approaching them, picnic basket in hand). He's a teacher at Oxford, also ..."

"Harry Potter," Harry spoke up before Hermione could get another word in. "And this is Hermione Granger, my ... uhm, my friend, who I just met here today."

"Pleasure," Sarah said as she shook his hand, and Hermione's. "Now that we're no longer strangers, would you like a can of Coke?"

Harry smiled back gratefully, and was about to reach out for the cans when Hermione butted in with a puzzled tone, "How did you get here? I could have sworn that I didn't see you coming up here ..."

For a second, Harry thought that Sarah's smile faltered and he was struck with a momentary panic, but breathed easily at Sarah's amused response, "Oh? Probably because you were so engrossed in looking for something ..."

Harry had to laugh at that, drawing an irritated look from Hermione, who seemed determined to avoid receiving anything from this near-stranger, and who turned back to Sarah with another question: "Is that sugar-free? Mum and Dad always told me that too much Coke is bad for the teeth - they're dentists, and--"

"Hermione!" Harry whispered fiercely, "Can't you just smile and say 'thank you' to the nice lady?"

The little girl glared back at him and he almost stepped back at that look, but was stopped by Sarah's voice, "Isn't it? I could have sworn that Granddad packed diet soda ... yup, it is."

Harry looked at her and blinked - he could have sworn on a stack of Bibles that Sarah had been holding a pair of regular Cokes in her hand, but what she was holding up now were undoubtedly diet Cokes. He shook his head, thinking, 'I must be imagining things,' as she continued, "Well?"

"Thank you, we accept," he quickly responded, trying to ignore Hermione's agitated "Harry!" beside him.

"Cool," Sarah said, "C'mon - I'll introduce you to my grandfather."

She started walking towards the approaching Dumbledore, seemingly unaware that behind her, the two children were in a slightly heated argument.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered, sternly. "How can you do this ... we don't even know them ..."

"Hermione," he answered as he stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. "Look ... we don't have any money between us, there's no water fountain that I can see close by ... Sarah and her grandfather look like nice people ..."

He suddenly gave her a wide, goofy grin that had her mouth hanging open in surprise, "And besides, I promise you - nothing's going to happen to us."

"Oh, all right," she huffed as she gave in. "But I promise you, Harry Potter - if something happens to us ..."

* * *

"...I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and use it on you."

Hermione shook her head, the memory of Ron's words as they crept around the castle for that aborted midnight duel with Malfoy ringing in her ears - and she smiled. That, she thought to herself as she relieved the memory of how she'd met Sarah and Professor Dumbledore, was probably the first time that she had given in to Harry's schemes and plans ... and she wondered again why, for the I-don't-know-how-many-times-I've-done-this time, she allowed herself to give in to Harry.

'What is it about him,' she thought to herself as she peeked at him from behind the fringes of her lashes, 'that made me try to stop him from that stupid midnight duel? Why did I have to stay up all night just to catch them as they were going out - and follow after them out the portrait hole?'

She felt Harry squeezing her hand and she looked up to see his smiling eyes on her, and she felt her questions dissolving away in the warmth of his smile ... that same caring, devil-may-care smile that he'd given her at Honeydukes in third year and - she remembered now -- on that day in the park so long ago ... and she felt her insides melting again at the memory.

Before she could say anything, Harry gave her a quick kiss on her cheek and she blushed as he whispered, "Thank you for going along with me, Hermione."

There was no response that she could give, and she squeezed his hand back - and nearly jumped as a sudden "Pop!" sounded on the quiet veranda. She realized, with some surprise, that James had opened a can of diet soda ... that Cindy had trays of the stuff brought out from the house ... and she began to wonder.

If there was no magic on the island, she thought, why did it seem that they always found what the needed, when they needed it? She remembered McGonagall's earlier visit - and her surprise at finding a tea service, complete with tea and biscuits in the kitchen, to serve to her and Mr. Roarke ... she hadn't asked Harry how he'd found the ingredients to make the lasagna that Crookshanks had devoured ... and how had Harry and her father-in-law - James! she admonished herself - been able to make that delicious lunch which included (she glanced at the table with a smile) a stack of BLT sandwiches earlier ...

She looked up in sudden surprise as music boomed out from within the bungalow, and felt a smile breaking out on her face as the well-remembered song broke out:

I know that it's late and I really must leave you alone

But you're good to hold and I feel such a long way from home ...

She nearly broke out in laughter at the look of shock on James Potter's face, but stopped herself as she watched Lily holding on to her husband, who looked as if he was going to strangle the surprised Ca with her own long black hair.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered how Carolyn knew enough to have picked out the Tom Jones song that James had danced and sang to earlier - but quickly stopped thinking about that as the young girl cowered behind Harry and herself, saying, "Don't look at me ... Sarah did it!"

She turned in surprise to the smirking Sarah - and it was that beaming face that triggered another memory from that day six years in the past ... and Hermione could feel laughter suddenly boiling up at the sight of Harry's horrified face as Sarah handed the wireless microphone to him, and she knew, she knew that the same memory had been triggered in his mind ...

* * *

"Why should anyone allow himself to look like a total prat, for what? Ten pounds?" She sniffed in disdain as she watched a young boy who looked no older than herself or Harry doing a passable impersonation of Tom Jones to the music blasting from the karaoke machine that some company had set up at a corner of the park.

"Ten pounds may seem like a lot of money to some people, Miss Granger," the calm voice of Professor Dumbledore responded. "Although I must admit that this Mug--I mean, this contraption fascinates me."

"You've always been fascinated with anything to do with music, Grandfather," Sarah said from beside him, a small snicker apparent in her voice. "As it does to Harry, here."

Harry looked up at her with a start, and smiled sheepishly at Sarah and Hermione, embarrassed that he'd been caught with his mouth open at the spectacle of the young boy as he emoted to the lyrics ("I've waited so long for the girl of my dreams to appear ..."), but his thoughts quickly returned to what the company representative had said as they set up the machine ...

'Ten pounds,' he thought to himself. 'Ten pounds ... enough to pay Sarah back for the soda ... more than enough to buy Hermione an ice cream and a balloon from the vendors around - and that includes buying something for me, and Sarah and Professor Dumbledore, who'd been so nice to me, a total stranger, on my birthday ...'

"Still," Hermione was saying in her high and mighty tone, disapproval evident in her voice, "I don't see why anyone would willingly act like a git in front of a crowd for a measly ten pounds!"

"It isn't always about money, Miss Granger," Dumbledore responded - and Harry looked up, surprised at the wistful tone in the old man's voice - and felt a shock pass through him as he realized that Professor Dumbledore was looking at him. He was totally unaware that the old Headmaster was not seeing the young Harry Potter in front of him ... but was remembering a once-insufferable, full-of-himself, young James Potter who'd swallowed his pride, his embarrassment and his fear in order to make a clear-cut statement to the person who'd captured his heart. Dumbledore continued, in a soft, ruminative tone, "For some people, doing that -- standing up in front of a crowd to sing, that is -- is a way of proving the depth of their feelings for someone who means more than the world to them ..."

He smiled as the young boy finished the number with a flourish, and surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye - remembering the fanfare with which James had ended that very same song in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and his painful roar of rage at Remus Lupin for the outrageous costume that he'd worn, a costume that Lily Evans said was not the one worn by Tom Jones (whoever he was) but by someone else ...

"I wonder who Elvis is," he murmured softly to himself as he watched the barker taunting the gathered crowd about who would be the next contestant - and vaguely heard the bossy, know-it-all voice of the young girl beside him as she said, "Well, I certainly wouldn't be caught dead doing something like that! It's just so ... too public, don't you think so, Harry?"

A beat - and then her panicked voice broke Dumbledore's thoughts about Elvis Presley and James Potter: "Harry? Where ... he was just beside me ... Ha--"

The welling panic in their minds was stilled as the an upbeat, somewhat rowdy guitar and piano started from the machine, and a voice, cheery, exultant, cheeky and totally impressive, burst into their ears:

Lord almighty,

I feel my temperature rising

Higher, higher

It's burning through to my soul

Girl, girl, girl

You gonna set me on fire

My brain is flaming

I don't know which way to go

Hermione could feel her eyes popping as she felt her jaw dropping to the grass, as Harry Potter, glasses, baggy clothes and all, sang with all the body language that the real Elvis 'the Pelvis' Presley had brought to the song:

Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love

Her shocked eyes locked with the smiling, burning green eyes of the person that she'd felt so sorry for earlier that day - and she felt something within her melting as she saw him smiling at her ... and she could feel a broad, broad grin break out on her face as she watched Harry swing and sway to the beat, his eyes pleading with her for understanding ... approval ... acceptance ...

Ooh, ooh, ooh,

I feel my temperature rising

Help me, I'm flaming

I must be a hundred and nine

Burning, burning, burning

And nothing can cool me

I just might turn into smoke

But I feel fine

She couldn't stop herself ... she found herself swaying to the beat along with Harry (and Sarah and Dumbledore as well as everyone else in the crowd) ... felt herself clapping along with the rhythmic beat of the strumming guitar and Harry's excited, exultant voice ...

Cause your kisses lift me higher

Like a sweet song of a choir

And you light my morning sky

With burning love

As the machine swung into an instrumental bridge, she had to stop herself from running up to Harry like a crazed fan-girl and start dancing with him in front of the gathered, cheering crowd ... but she couldn't stop herself from blowing him a kiss as she laughed and clapped with the crowd - and her smile grew past her ears as she saw Harry grabbing in the air for that flying kiss ...

It's coming closer

The flames are now lickin' my body

Won't you help me

I feel like I'm slipping away

It's hard to breath

And my chest is a-heaving

Lord have mercy,

I'm burning a hole where I lay

She could feel her throat burning and realized that she was shouting, screaming her approval of Harry's performance ... cheering along with Sarah and Professor Dumbledore as Harry went into an impassioned, swaying finale:

Cause your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir

You light my morning sky

With burning love

With burning love

I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

* * *

His ears were burning and he wondered whether his hair was as red as the Weasleys from all the blushing he was doing as he lowered the microphone and glanced around him - and felt the blood dropping to his feet at the shocked and awed looks he saw: his father, trying to pick up his shattered jaw from the floor, Lily Potter wiping her eyes as she blew him a kiss, Cindy and Ca, their hands red from clapping and whistling, and Hermione - sweet, lovely Hermione, finally giving in to the urge she had six years before, laughing and hugging him and he felt his hands automatically going around her waist to draw her to him ...

"More! More!" the shouts and cheers were coming from Cindy and Ca ... and Sarah and Professor Dumbledore, both with fingers in their mouths, producing almost ear-deafening whistles ... and he heard the music from inside the house, and Harry stepped back from Hermione, the microphone going up again to his lips in the same way it had six years before ...

Tell me when will you be mine
Tell me quando, quando, quando
We can share a love divine
Please don't make me wait again

* * *

Hermione watched her friend in awe as he started a song that was achingly familiar to her, and she felt tears springing to her eyes ... and nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the puzzled brown eyes of her mother, and quickly hugged her as she heard her father asking, "What's going on, princess?"

When will you say yes to me?
Tell me quando, quando, quando
You mean happiness to me
Oh, my love, please tell me when

"It's my friend Harry Potter, Dad! Isn't he great?"

The elder Granger looked at the boy emoting in front of the crowd and couldn't help but smile at his daughter's enthusiastic voice - and he caught his wife's smiling eyes and gave her a soft, secretive smile of his own ...

Every moment's a day
Every day seems a lifetime
Let me show you the way
To a joy beyond compare

Harry felt his eyes widen as he saw an older couple who could only be Hermione's parents smiling at each other over their daughter's head, and almost faltered in his song ... but he broke out into a smile as he watched Mr. Granger swing Hermione into a dance

I can't wait a moment more
Tell me quando, quando, quando
Say its me that you adore
And then, darlin', tell me when

Mr. Granger let go of a laughing Hermione as the music went into its instrumental bridge ... and grabbed his wife by the hand, quickly swinging her into a dance as the crowd cheered. Harry smiled at Hermione, who was smiling back at him and he could feel his chest expanding with pride and joy at making her smile ...

Every moment's a day
Every day seems a lifetime
Let me show you the way
To a joy beyond compare

I can't wait a moment more
Tell me quando, quando, quando
Say its me that you adore
And then, darlin, tell me when

Oh, my darlin, tell me when
Mmm, my darlin, tell me when ...

As the music stopped and the crowd applauded the smiling couple, Harry's eyes locked with Hermione for a brief instant before he gave the final lyric of the song in a soft, caressing whisper:

When?

* * *

Lily dropped her hands from James' shoulders as Harry ended the song, and turned to her son with laughter brimming in her eyes - and smiled as she saw a teary-eyed Hermione in a tight hug with her son while the others gave them a resounding cheer ... and she could almost imagine the people at the park cheering the two young children as their parents bowed to the crowd.

"Wow, Harry!" she heard James saying beside her, "at least you got paid for what you did!"

Lily's laughing agreement stopped, however, as Harry's pained whisper responded, "I didn't get it, Dad."

"What?" The shocked voice of James was drowned out by the surprised voices of Lily, Carolyn and Cindy ... and Hermione hugged Harry tightly as he lowered his face to her shoulder, seemingly in an attempt to hide his embarrassed, angry, or crying face from them.

"Harry," she whispered as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "what happened?"

Harry turned a tear-streaked face to her, his throat working hard to frame a response ... but it was Sarah's pained, apologetic voice which gave the answer: "The Dursleys happened."