And Malice Toward None

Chapter Three:

Uncle Lupin and 'Dad'

* * *

The dingy third floor bedroom door squeaked open, casting the dim and dusty light from the room's windows onto the mouldering carpet of the black landing. Ron's ginger head peeked out, and seeing no one in the abbreviated third floor hall or on the stairs he opened the door enough to leave. Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ginny eased past him onto the landing, Harry with his slightly battered Firebolt slung over one shoulder. He had very few possessions left, and had decided sometime in the midst of recounting everything to Ron and Ginny that he should bring what was left along with him. Certainly, he wasn't letting the broom out of his sight. Hedwig really wasn't as accommodating, and so he had to content himself with the knowledge that she would find him again with little effort, once she'd finished her hunting.

With smooth movements, Ron inched the door closed after the others had passed by, making very little noise. He turned to look at everyone and wrinkled his nose. "I can't believe after all that talking last night, our brilliant plan is to sneak back to the Lovegoods' and hope no one notices Harry came back from the dead."

"First," Hermione answered acerbically, "the brilliant plan is for you three to sneak out before anyone wonders why you all came running last night, and second would you please shut up about You-Know-What!"

Ron blinked for a moment before a pleased smile appeared on his face. He turned to Harry and slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. "Check it out, mate! V-Voldemort is 'You-Know-Who,' and now you're 'You-Know-What!' 'S actually pretty wicked if you think about it."

Harry smiled broadly. "At least it's better than 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.'"

Ginny and Hermione managed a synchronized eye-roll and huff. Luna just took Ron's arm and lead him down the stairs with a ridiculously overdone attempt at stealth.

The three left at the top of the stairs took in Ron and Luna's mincing tip-toe descent for a second, before Ginny addressed them in an aside. "I'm sure there's something witty I could say about my brother, but I'm tapped."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Quite."

They headed down side-by-side, leaving Harry to trail along in their wake. Everyone slowed noticeably as they eased past the doors behind which the Order members and Aurors were asleep. Finally they descended to the ground floor, which by the sickly light of day looked queerly abandoned. Bits of parchment, crumpled bandages, and shards of broken phials littered the floors along the walls, and the manky carpeting now had new holes, stains, and burns.

The wan light was broken by sudden shadows, and all five of them pulled back into the shadows of the stairs as people walked back and forth by the open doorway into the sitting room. Harry leaned down, the better to peer into the room through the balustrades. Several healers were moving between the camp beds of wounded crowding the room, and tending to a number of witches and wizards. One of the mediwizards looked up, and appeared to say something to his patient, a long wizard in pale robes, but no words came out. Harry turned to his girlfriend, perplexed.

"Silencing spell," she muttered back. "Probably an Imperturbable Charm as well."

"Right." Harry led the way, slipping past the open doorway when no one was looking. One by one the others slipped past as well. Fortunately, the library was emptied, although the blinking map of England still adhered to the windows. Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder opposite the racing broom, and led the way back though the rear passage toward the working part of the house.

The five teens crunched over some of the detritus as they slipped into the kitchen. Leading the way, Ron banged head first into one of the befouled pots hanging low from the ceiling, and he reached out quickly to silence it as it rattled against its neighbors. He turned a pale face back at the rest of them, all of whom had flinched at the brief bell-like gong that broke the stillness.

Everyone held their breath, and for a long moment listened to the silence. When it became apparent no one was coming, they blew out their breath as one.

Luna patted him on the cheek. "Ronald, you have to remember not to run into things like that. What if there was a Nargle infestation in there?"

Ron scuffed his trainers on the kitchen floor. "I'll remember that, then."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, and lit the fireplace with a muttered Incendio. Another incantation, and the heavy cauldron hanging in the center of the hearth drifted over to settle in a corner. "Well? Are you or are you not getting out of here before anyone starts asking questions?"

Luna pulled away from Ron and drew a pinch of Floo powder from the chipped gravy boat on the mantle. "Father should be working on the morning print run by now. I'll go ahead and let him know I was with Ronald last night."

Ron blanched as she tossed the powder into the flames, called out the name of the Quibbler's office, and disappeared into the green fires. Ron turned to look at Harry. "You don't reckon that'll sound as bad to her old man as that sounded to me, do you?"

"No Ron," Harry answered, eyes wide and his smile firmly repressed. "I think it'll sound worse."

"I've changed me mind." Ron nodded, and looked around the kitchen appraisingly. "I'll take on You-Know-Who, you face Mister Lovegood."

Harry's smile burst free at this. "I don't think I'm that brave, Ron."

Ron stared back at his friend. "I have complete faith in you, mate."

Ginny tossed her pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace before turning back to her brother and grinning impishly. "Just remember, 'Ronald,' facing Voldemort means you have to stay here, and that means sticking around Hermione. Still wanna trade?"

Ginny was swallowed in a gout of green flame as she Floo'd to the Lovegood home. Ron wrinkled his nose. At this, and darted to the fireplace. "Ugh, hadn't thought of that bit. Gotta go, see you two later!"

In a flare of green fire that ruffled Hermione's hair, Ron disappeared. Hermione looked dour as she circled the battered kitchen table to lean against Harry. "I think Ron's just insulted me."

"So, nothing's really different from usual, then?" Harry smiled down at her, a look that disappeared as she elbowed his sharply. Harry hastened to add, "And he's quite stupid, and insensitive, too."

"Better," Hermione sighed. "I may keep you."

"Really," Harry asked with a playfully hopeful note in his voice.

"Maybe," she answered in kind. "I haven't decided yet. I think I shall need to see how our first date goes, at the very least."

Harry poked her short ribs delicately. "What, all that kissing and you haven't made up your mind?"

"Mm-mmm," was her wordless reply. "I need more research, boyfriends really are a tricky subject. I should think it would take a month more to decide. Unless perhaps more research on kissing would speed things up?"

Harry turned, and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. Every now and again, Hermione managed to utterly surprise him, and this was one of those times. Staid, bookish, and prim Hermione Jane Granger was flirting with him! He had to grin widely at that thought. "So you need more kissing?"

"For research purposes." Except for a cocked eyebrow and pursed lips, she almost managed to look serious.

This did nothing to dampen his smile. "Well, you know I always want to help out with your studies."

Her expression barely changed, except for a faint narrowing of her eyes. "Rubbish, Harry. You just want to sit there while I do the studying. You never get anything done."

Harry leaned in closer, setting the Firebolt on the table behind her with a clatter. "Hermione, I promise I'll do more than just sit around for this research project."

"Promise?" Hermione closed her eyes as she stood on tip-toe to reach him. But their study plans came undone as a man cleared his throat from the corner of the room.

Hermione and Harry tumbled away from each other, both fumbling for wands before recognizing the wizard in the corner as Remus Lupin. The aging werewolf eased out of the shadows with a wan smile, entirely unperturbed to be looking down the shafts of a pair of wands. The young couple, however, was quite flustered. Remus let them stammer some mixture of welcomes and excuses for a few seconds. He may have been the responsible member of the Marauders, but he was still a Marauder; he almost had to let them twist in the wind a bit before stepping in. Eventually he decided to interrupt their fumbling attempts to explain what they were doing. "No need to explain what you were doing down here, alone. I think it fairly obvious, and I'd hope you wouldn't feel the need to keep it secret from me."

Hermione's brows knit, and Harry's rose. They looked at each other for a second, and their former Professor suppressed a smile at the very clear confusion on their faces. They looked back at him, still trying to figure out what to say, and Lupin let them twist a bit more before stepping in again. "I interrupted your... ah, romantic moment because I'm sure it wasn't something you wanted to share with an audience. But I'm well aware you didn't sneak down here for illicit trysting in a mouldering kitchen. You managed to get Ron and Luna out of here before anyone could ask them why they came here last night. And I'd imagine there's quite a story behind young Mister Weasey's premature pronouncement of your death."

Hermione stepped forward, wetting her lips. "Professor Lupin," she said shakily. "Please don't-"

"Just Remus," he interrupted gently. "And don't worry; I don't think anyone needs to hear anything about this from me. You're both quite clearly adults now. Whatever I may guess happened last night, and I stress that I am only guessing what happened, it's your business and yours alone."

"Thank you." Harry looked relieved.

"Don't thank me just yet, you two." Remus slid an old reference book toward them across the kitchen table, the bindings cracked and flaking. Hermione leaned over to flip through it carefully. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore asked me to speak to Doctor Granger on your behalf, but I think I'll leave it to you. Since both of you are adults, I think it only fitting you should be the one to ask your girlfriend's father for his permission."

Hermione shot up from the book, startled. Remus smiled benignly and continued. "Ask his permission to stay there through the end of summer, I should say. Dumbledore is convinced you should remain hidden amongst the Muggles 'til Hogwarts reopens, and who better to hide with than the brightest witch of your generation?"

"Excellent," said Harry, smiling widely again.

Hermione blinked as she tried to draw her focus back to the conversation at hand. "Pardon?"

Remus tucked his hands away in the coin pockets on his cardigan and edged around the table and towards the door. "It's the only sensible choice if you think about it, Hermione. No one will think to look for him in Oxford, and if they did, there'd be no wizarding community nearby to operate from. And can either of you imagine pure-blood supremacist wizards trying to puzzle out how to find someone in a Muggle city?"

Harry smiled, then frowned. "I can't see them figuring out 'Fellytone' directories, but won't they just use magic to find me again? I mean, isn't that how they found me last night?"

"And that, as I'm sure Hermione's already figured out, is the reason for the reference book." Remus didn't seem to notice when Hermione jerked to attention at the sound of her name. "It has every rune and charm you'll need to ward the Granger house. No tracking charms, no one in or out without you feeling it. In a day or so we should be able to get it under the Fidelius as well."

Harry nodded slowly. It wasn't perfect, but it was probably the best that could be managed. And while a part of him thought that being near Hermione might put her in danger, a louder voice in his head suggested that if something happened, he wanted to be there for her. "Okay then," was all he said.

"Good, Harry." Remus drew his wand, and saluted jauntily. "Then I'll be off. They'll need every wand they can get at St. Mungo's, trying to repair the damage."

And with a near silent pop, Remus Disapparated from the small kitchen. Harry paused for a beat before turning his most dazzling of smiles on Hermione.

"We should get going," Harry said earnestly, all thoughts fixed upon an uninterrupted month with Hermione Jane Granger.

"We can't!" She had a wide-eyed look Harry was only used to seeing on Ron.

"Sure we can, Hermione," he answered reasonably. "I can Apparate, and so can you. And there's nothing left to pack, so let's go!"

"It's not that," she said, worrying her lip.

Harry's smile faltered. "What is it then? Do you not want me staying there?"

For her part, Hermione looked downright queasy. "Harry, I've never brought a boyfriend home. Not even a friend who was a boy when I was a girl!"

"You still are a girl."

Hermione lost the queasy look, replacing it with a glare. "You know what I meant! When I was a little girl, Harry. Oh, this will be a problem."

Harry nodded in a manner which suggested strongly that he didn't get the point she was driving at. Hermione tried again. "Harry, my mum's gone... I'm daddy's little girl. Don't you see, he's going to be freakishly protective of me."

"I'm freakishly protective of you. We'll get along famously," he said with a smile. Hermione shot him a sour look, so he tried again. "Hermione, how bad could it possibly be?"

She cocked her head at him, and took on an all-too-familiar lecturing tone. "How bad could it be? Thirty-one days of 'what have you been doing with my daughter' looks, and you ask how bad it could be?"

Harry blinked, his face diplomatically blank. "Okay, that could be bad."

"Yes." Hermione managed to draw the word out flatly before steadying herself for her Apparation. "Plus, there's having you fifteen feet from me for a month, and not being able to kiss you the whole time. I should probably warn Dad before you get there. Eram Sumero!"

"What do you-," was all Harry managed before Hermione Disapparated with a sudden pop, leaving him talking to empty space. "Oh blast it!"

Harry pulled his broom off the table and clutched it to his chest. Concentrating for a moment he found himself winking into existence in the back garden of a warm house he recognized from his girlfriend's photo album. Hermione herself was just ahead of him, and already heading up the cobbled steps leading toward the back door. He recognized the determined set of her shoulders and the longish stride as something she did when heading into a fight, or to talk to Professor McGonagall. Harry knew that walk, and knew that this called for drastic action.

Harry bolted past her with all due haste and barred her way, hands outstretched. This was clearly important, whatever it was, and he decided to toss his Firebolt to grass at his side, so he's be free to deal with hugging or whatever else was needed. "Hermione! What do you mean, 'no kissing?' And why are you panicking?"

"I'm not panicking," she said, small red spots high on her cheeks, her hands aflutter. "I'm just calmly trying to figure out how to tell my dad that I'm dating a boy, that's all! There's obviously no reason to panic."

Harry stepped sideways to outmaneuver her bid to duck past him. "And the 'no kissing' bit?"

"Harry, be reasonable," Hermione snapped. "Do you really think my father- any father- would accept you kissing their daughter."

"I'd hope so," Harry said with a pragmatic shrug. "I mean, sooner or later, it's going to come up."

"I'd prefer later, Harry!" Hermione's leg jerked in what appeared to be an abortive stomping of her foot.

"You'd prefer?" Harry tipped his head sideways. "Hang on a minute. This is about what you're not comfortable with, isn't it? Not what your dad would allow."

Hermione spun around aimlessly. "Well, it's a little bit of both, isn't it? I can't imagine what he'd think of me if he saw me kissing a boy. For that matter, what do you do when your father walks in on you kissing someone? Do you come up for air, wish him a fine day at work, and then go right back to the kissing? Do you jump apart and pretend nothing was happening in the first place?"

"Wait a moment! No, actually 'stop a moment' would be better." Harry took her by the shoulders, and pulled her about to look at him square in the face. "We haven't even gotten to the part where you introduce me and I try not to look foolish shaking your father's hand, and already you're worrying about what to do if he catches us snogging in the closet."

This earned him a brief, friendly glare. "It's a house Harry, not a castle. Here the snogging is done on the living room divan."

Harry shot her a lopsided grin. "And I thought you said you'd never brought a boy home before."

"Charming," she answered dryly.

Harry pulled her in close for a chaste kiss before settling in to reassure his girlfriend that everything was alright. "Hermione, relax. This'll be fine. We'll just handle everything in a 'first come, first served' sort of manner. See, the first thing to come up is that you've got a boyfriend. This should be okay, after all you're seventeen. I have it on good authority that half your dorm started dating in third year."

"I hardly use Lavender and Parvati as examples of how to conduct my affairs, thank you very much." Hermione managed to throw in a dismissive sniff that Harry was certain was at least half jest. "And just what, exactly, constitutes 'good authority?'"

"One, I never said Lavender and Parvati." Harry ignored Hermione's snort of mirth. "Two, I room with Seamus and Dean. That's got to count for something."

Hermione's brows crinkled. "I'm still missing the point of this."

"The point is," Harry said slowly, "that somewhere in Britain, people have dated before. Other people, sure, but still. People may be dating right now. I'm guessing your dad is brilliant like you are, so I'm sure he won't be surprised to find out you're dating."

Hermione smiled at this, so Harry pressed on. "So that's the first thing, no problem. The second item is the question of whether or not I can stay here for a whole month. That's a huge imposition, and it's his decision. If I can stay here, that's wonderful. If not, I'll stay with Remus or something."

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against Harry's shoulder. "And the kissing?"

Harry tipped her chin up and kissed her soundly, pulling her full length against him. At last, he set her back on her feet. "Lets try seeing how he takes the news were dating, then if I can stay with you two, and then if he even likes me before we worry about what'll happen if he catches us passionately embracing on the living room divan. Hmm?"

Her eyes widened, and Hermione gasped. Harry's smile turned into a puzzled frown as he watched his girlfriend pale rapidly. He thought hard for a moment before closing his eyes and wincing. "Your dad's right behind me, isn't he?"

He didn't have to open his eyes; Harry could feel her nod. He cleared his throat. "What do I do?"

Hermione squeaked. Under other circumstances, Harry would have found it hysterically funny to find out that his fierce and determined girlfriend squeaked, but he was too busy trying not to do the same. He cleated his throat yet again in the hope that his voice wouldn't break, and turned to face Hermione's father. "Doctor Granger, I, uh..."

"Call me Roger, Harry," came the cheerful response as Hermione's father strode down the garden path to shake his hand. "Especially since you'll be staying with us for a while. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just didn't know how to interrupt you two."

Harry nodded weakly, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to match Roger Granger's authoritative handshake. Roger clapped a firm hand on Harry's shoulder as he kissed Hermione's forehead. He looked back and forth between the two embarrassed teens with a toothy smile. "Well, let's have some breakfast, and you can tell me everything."

"Everything?" Harry felt a primal urge to run, screaming at him from somewhere deep in the most lizard-like portions of his mind.

"Sounds great, dad," Hermione responded hollowly.

"Hermione," Roger said to his daughter as he led the two teens into the kitchen through the garden entrance. "When I heard you two talking out in the yard, I took the liberty of ringing the Provincal bakery for some pastry and omelette take-away. Since you can do that popping thing, could you be a dear and pick it up for us?"

Hermione turned quickly to look at Harry, as though dreading leaving him alone for even a minute. But she nodded anyway and pulled a couple of pounds from the runabout jar by the door. She and Harry exchanged awkward hand gestures from waist level as they tried to work out how to say goodbye without touching in any way. Eventually they settled on a couple of small waves and sickly smiles before she Disapparated with only a faint pop.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Granger family kitchen. Harry looked around to delay the inevitable, taking in the clean white cabinetry and modern appliances. With family photos on the refrigerator door and flowers on the sills, it wasn't the antiseptic unpleasantness of the Dursely's home, but it wasn't the welcoming clutter of the Burrow, either.

"Um, Doctor Granger-" Harry began, but was cut off by a smile from the older man.

"It's Roger, Harry, please." Hermione's father pulled out a spindle chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, and Harry did the same. Once they were both seated, Roger spoke up again. "I have a confession to make. I didn't order anything from the bakery. If I know my daughter, and I like to think that I do, she'll think they made an error, and she'll spend a good long time ordering breakfast from scratch."

Harry looked worried. "Um, why would you do that, sir?"

"A couple of reasons. Mostly, I just wanted us to have plenty of time for us to talk, son." Roger Granger's smile was friendly, but somehow seemed to Harry to be about as intimidating a facial expression as any he had ever seen. "I have a feeling this might be my only chance to get you alone, and I didn't want to miss it just because Hermione would think of a way out of it."

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say to this. Roger Granger's smile faded, and Harry swallowed nervously.

"First off, I'd like to hear from you what all this is about. You want to stay here for the rest of summer?" Dr. Granger's expression was in no way angry, but it also wasn't the most welcoming look Harry had ever seen.

Harry took a deep, calming breath before he began. This wasn't about him dating Hermione, Harry reminded himself. This was about a safe place to stay for a month. "Death Eaters attacked my Aunt and Uncle's house, sir. We don't know where my relatives are, and I can't stay there anymore. I'd like to stay here, if I can. We've got some spells we can use to try to make your house safer, but I understand if you wouldn't want me around."

Roger Granger looked thoughtful, in the same way Ron did in the latter half of their chess matches. "Now why do you think I should be more worried about Death Eaters if you were here than if it were just Hermione and myself? You'd think that two of you would be a better defense than only one magical person, wouldn't you? Or am I missing something?"

"You're not missing anything, sir." Dr. Granger's last question gave Harry an out, but it was one he knew with a sinking sensation he couldn't take. Here was somebody who had every right to know exactly why Harry was such a target. "There's a prophecy, erm... a magical one."

"Is there another kind?" Roger Granger smiled gently.

"I suppose not." Despite not really wanting to, Harry found himself with a half smile on his face at that. It fell away as he presses onwards, though. "This prophecy... it says I have to be the one to stop Voldemort, or rather one of us will lose to the other one. The Death Eaters are his... followers, I guess."

Roger evaluated him with dark and thoughtful eyes, and Harry knew where his girlfriend had learned that penetrating expression. "Do you think you'd be putting my daughter in danger being here?"

Harry felt his heart racing, as though the idea scared him almost as much as the reality. "I don't think so, sir, but I can't be sure."

Dr. Granger nodded slowly. "After Helen... my wife, Helen passed-"

Roger paused and looked out the window, his eyes bright. Harry took an interest in the little digital clock on the far wall, pretending not to notice as the older man blinked rapidly. A moment of silence fell before Roger continued. "Those murdering bastards, those Death Eaters... They took my wife from me, I don't want to loose my daughter. But they've taken a lot of people you love too, from what Hermione's told me. And I damn well won't leave anyone homeless because of them, either. So you just promise you'll try to look after each other, and you can stay in the guest room as long as you need."

Harry blinked. "I promise, sir, I-"

"Roger, Harry." Dr. Granger leaned in. "My name is Roger. And if there's a prophecy that says you're the one to stop these madmen, you do that. You do that for Helen."

Now it was Harry's turn to look away sharply and blink back a rush of feelings. "For a lot of people, I think."

The two sat in silence for a time, letting the air in the bright kitchen slowly thin. Eventually, Dr. Granger decided it was time for the other half of their chat, now that the somber mood had passed.

"Now, I know you've been my daughter's best friend for years, and two months ago I hear she's seeing you socially. I understand there are good reasons for it, but nonetheless I walked in on you two discussing your moving in together?" Roger Granger folded his hands upon the table, a shadow of a smile just forming. "Harry, I think I'd like to know what your intentions are concerning my daughter."

Harry slumped a little in his seat, and muttered to himself. "And to think, I was just telling people I was still alive..."

* * *

Some hours later, midmorning found Harry and Hermione circling the Grangers' Oxford flat, surreptitiously casting the series of smaller charms that would be knit together into a protective ward. The breakfast Hermione had brought back was long since eaten, and Dr. Granger had headed into his practice shortly thereafter, leaving the two teens alone. And although he was managing to focus fairly well on the series of new spells they'd found in the book Remus had given them, Harry couldn't help but notice that Hermione seemed to be peering worriedly his way every few seconds. After the first lap of the house, when she still hadn't ceased her quietly worried looks, Harry sighed indulgently.

"You can just ask, you know," he said. "I'll tell you."

Hermione sidled up to him and grabbed him by the wrist. "How was it?"

Harry looked out over the garden for a second before fixing his bright green gaze on his girlfriend. "Oddly, not as bad as I was afraid of."

"What do you mean, 'not as bad as you were afraid of?'" Hermione's cocked eyebrow held a lecture in and of itself. "Harry, you were the one calming me down, what on earth could you have been afraid of?"

Harry shrugged, suddenly keen to avoid the darker aspects of his conversation with Dr. Granger. "Well, he asked me about my intentions toward you-"

"Your intentions?" She managed to cram all three syllables with a great deal of emotion.

Harry pressed on dutifully. "I told him they were strictly honourable, and told him why I needed a place to stay. I told him how I felt about you, he decided he liked me, and he told me if I ever hurt you, I should train up on my long distance Apparition first"

Hermione was red with indignation, her lips working and reworking themselves into a tighter and tighter line. "Your intentions! I can't believe he'd ask you that! We've only just barely started dating, and he's acting like we're racing off to move in together!"

"Well," Harry muttered philosophically, "technically we are moving in together..."

Hermione fumed, not seeming to hear him at all. "And that's what comes out of his mouth the first time I bring a boy home! Oh yes, charming. And I thought the Wizarding world was stuck in another century!"

"Excuse me?" Harry cut into her rant at this. "First?"

Hermione shook her head and focused on her boyfriend momentarily. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

"You said 'first' boy you brought home. Implying a second, third, whatever." Harry's face clouded over in a way Hermione was fairly familiar with. "Suppose I shouldn't be silly. We've only just barely started dating, after all."

Hermione focused her intense dark-eyed stare upon him for long moments of silence while Harry pretended to be deeply interested in a battered Opel lorry pulling away from the curb several blocks away. After quite some time, she spoke up. "I'm torn between hugging you and smacking you, Harry James Potter."

This brought him back to her in surprise. "Huh?"

She ticked the options off on her fingers. "Either you think so little of yourself you don't realize how much I care about you, or you think I'm the sort to run around kissing boys when I don't... care about them very much."

"You said," he started tentatively.

"I know perfectly well what I said. You chose to take it as badly as possible." She poked him in the chest. "I'm mad at my father, not unhappy with you. I'm not in the market for a second or a third whatever. Get that through your thick head."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Then can I get the hug instead of the smack?"

Hermione hugged him quickly before pulling back and turning to face the house. "All right. Let's get back to the warding, then."

Harry pulled his wand again, but hesitated. "Could we get back to the first date thing, too? The other night, you mentioned a theatre in Oxford around here."

She frowned at this. "Harry, we're warding the house so you can be hidden until school starts up again. I don't think we can exactly go prancing around on a date and stay concealed."

"First, I seldom prance," Harry said seriously. "And second, I'm sure we can manage a date or two."

"We can, Harry," she answered primly. "When we get back to Hogwarts."

Harry sighed, and returned to warding the Granger residence. "Okay for now. But this conversation isn't over."

* * *

Days had passed, and Harry still hadn't managed to get back to the topic of their first actual date. The first few days were a flurry of magic, as Harry and Hermione wove ward after ward from Professor Lupin's textbook. Three days in, and nearly exhausted, the two teens were interrupted by Bill Weasley, who pronounced their work both solid and disturbingly comprehensive. Hermione had a grim look of satisfaction on her face, as it had been her insistence that every possible charm and hex be worked to secure the house. She'd stayed up late into the night researching some fairly obscure security wards, and Harry had worked long hours imbuing them. By the time Bill performed the Fidelius Charm, locking their location away from very nearly everyone else, two two teens looked near the brink of collapse. Hermione nearly dropped the sandwiches and chips she was trying to offer their guest, and Harry kept slipping chin first into his lunch plate whenever the conversation lagged.

After a baker's dozen tremendous yawns from his daughter and her boyfriend, Roger Granger bundled the two off to their respective rooms for a mid afternoon nap. It was a mark of just how tired they both were that neither put up more than token resistance. Dr. Granger and Bill Weasley then slipped quietly from the house, and headed into town. Neither had missed the fact that despite the frequent washings Harry had tried to sneak past everyone, his clothes were getting both pungent and threadbare. The recent Death Eater attack had left him without possessions or clothes other than the ones he had on his back, and Hermione refused to let Harry leave the grounds to replace them, citing quite reasonable concerns for his safety. With Bill helping to steer Roger's questionable fashion choices away from striped polos or vintage shirts, the two managed to very kindly deposit a smallish wardrobe outside Harry's door before he awoke.

Some days later, Harry and Hermione were sprawled on opposite ends of the divan, catching up on their homework over summer hols with their stocking feet twined together in the middle of the the plush Chesterfield when Dr. Granger returned home. Harry very nearly jumped away from his girlfriend at the first sight of her father, and from the twitch of her feet against his, he figured Hermione had stifled the very same reflex. Harry managed a welcoming smile, and tried not to think too hard about how very glad he was that they weren't kissing when her father had come home. Dr. Granger walked over to kiss his daughter on the cheek before wandering away to take off his coat and put down his briefcase. As he left, she caught Harry's eye, and the two teens fidgeted awkwardly as they tried to decide if they ought to move. In the end they decided not to, and instead settled uncomfortably back into place.

Dr. Granger returned to the living room, and settled into a wing chair with the oddly salmon-coloured financial sheets in one hand and a glass of water in the other. As he ruffled the pages and folded them over to find the bits he wanted to read, Harry looked up and noticed he bunched his eyebrows together just like his daughter did when she was reading. Harry shook his head, and bent back to his homework.

The Transfiguration homework was dreadfully dull, so much so that Harry found himself staring off into space for the fourth time in an hour. An idea struck him, and he wiggled his feet against Hermione's calves, just as he'd been doing all morning. Usually she wriggled her feet back in return, sometime looking up from her text, other times merely smiling softly while continuing to scratch away. This time however, she looked up with wide eyes and jerked her head repressively at her father. Apparently, 'Dad In Room' trumped 'Playing With Harry's Feet.'

Mischievously, Harry waited long enough for her to return to her book before again playing with her stocking feet. Hermione didn't look up, or change expression in the slightest. She simply used her biggest toe to poke him solidly in the sole of the foot.

Harry jerked his leg away reflexively, and a loose parchment sheaf spilled across the floor. Hermione stifled a giggle as Harry fumbled to keep his books from following. Harry looked up guiltily to see Dr. Granger regarding him over the rim of his water glass with piercing brown eyes.

Dr. Granger shifted in his chair. "You two have been awfully studious, these last few days."

"I've been Hermione's friend for years," Harry said with a disarming smile. "I'd bet she's been 'awfully studious' for a lot longer than a couple of days."

Hermione kicked his foot again, playfully. Harry returned the favor, and a brief bout of foot wrestling ensued. After a minute, they subsided. Harry smiled, noticing that Hermione seemed to have gotten over her nervousness in front of her father in the midst of their sudden playfulness.

Dr. Granger spoke up again, seeming to pick his words carefully. "I was simply wondering why the two of you didn't want to spend some time nosing about the village. I thought Hermione had some outings to a theatre planned."

"Ah," Harry said in comprehension. "I can't, really."

"What he means to say," Hermione interjected with an eye roll at her boyfriend, "is that the spell that keeps us safe here only works if we don't leave the property."

Dr. Granger wrinkled his nose, and for a moment Harry could see the familial resemblance with his daughter quite strongly. "Is this the same spell that keeps the mail from being delivered and repels all the curry delivery boys?"

"The same." Hermione said with an edge to her voice. "And you shouldn't be eating so much delivery in the first place. It's dreadfully bad for you."

"Well, not much point cooking for just one." In the ensuing silence, the rustle of Dr. Granger's paper as he shook it out sounded like thunder. For as long as Harry had stayed with the Granger's the topic of Mrs. Granger's murder last year had been beyond taboo. The comment about being alone was as close to a direct reference to his loss as Hermione's father had made the whole time, and Harry had no idea how to respond. From her fidgeting silence, neither did Hermione. Dr. Granger cleared his throat and tried to restart the flagging conversation. "Of course , with you two here, that's hardly a problem., is it?"

"Not really," Harry said with a smile. "I usually have to wait 'til I get back to Hogwarts before I eat this well."

"Getting off of my ongoing take-away habit, and back on track," Dr. Granger continued, "I was mostly worried the two of you would be bored trapped inside for a whole month. There's not really much here to keep you two busy; I haven't even found a reason to pay for a license for the Beeb."

"But we're headed into our NEWT year," cried Hermione, and she was off. One of the three study planners she'd been working on was produced as if by magic, and Hermione was busily pointing out the very few blocks of time not already colour-coded for class or revision. "We've six years of classes to review, and these tests are dreadfully important. We haven't even gotten to Hogwarts, and I'm already behind schedule. If we work at it, I should be caught up by the end of August."

In the midst of Hermione's oddly cute study attack, Harry found himself looking over from his girlfriend to her father. Dr. Granger seemed to be eying him thoughtfully. Harry blinked, suddenly realizing that as his girlfriend's father, he might have a reason or two to be concerned if Harry and Hermione had too much free time on their hands.

"You know, Hermione," Harry began reasonably. "The point of a vacation is so you can relax between stressing out in classes. Maybe you might want to schedule some time for going into town or something."

"And again I'd like to point out all the spells keeping us safe," she answered with some asperity. "And the way they don't seem to work in town or wherever."

Harry shrugged. "It's just me who's under house arrest. You could still-"

"Finish that sentence, and your feet will be cold for the rest of the day." She smiled to take any sting out of her words. "Honestly, I'm not about to go wandering off to the beach or what have you. I'd rather be inside studying with you for a month than be about town without you for a day."

Harry's brows knit. "I'm not sure if you'd be missing me or the studying more though."

Hermione repressed a smile. "I'll have to think about that a bit."

"And you're sure you don't feel stuck here?" Harry still looked a little worried as he asked.

"Positive," was her simple reply.

"Alright then." Harry gathered up the books and parchments and set them untidily on the low table. "But we're a couple of weeks overdue for that date of ours."

"Harry," she began warningly. Dr. Granger looked confusedly between the two teens.

Harry didn't notice her father's expression and didn't let Hermione build up a head of steam. "I just don't want to make you wait another month for our first date, though."

"Harry," she tried again. "It's not exactly an important issue if you stop to think about it."

"It is to me," he answered intensely. "We haven't even had one date together, not once. I know I'm not very good at being a boyfriend, but I can at least take you on a good first date."

"You are too a very good boyfriend, and anyone who says otherwise will be hexed repeatedly in ways not easily reversed," Hermione responded tartly. Then her expression softened. "But I do appreciate the sentiment. And I do want to go on a real date. But we can wait until we get back to Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes, because nothing ever happens there to muck up our schedules."

"Valid point," Hermione muttered softly. She cleared her throat as though abashed to be caught talking to herself, and continued in a more forceful tone. "But I don't exactly see a way around it. Not without taking a dreadful risk."

Harry smiled broadly. "I figured a way out."

Hermione's eyebrow arched of its own volition. "If it involves your invisibility cloak, flying in any manner, or a Time Turner, I'm putting my foot down."

"Oh, a Time Turner! I hadn't thought of that one." Harry stared at the carpet, lost in thought until Hermione cleared her throat at him. "Sorry, just realized a Time Turner would be nice. Anyways, I was thinking about one September."

"September first?" Hermione looked skeptical. "That's when we're headed back to Hogwarts."

"Yes, and the Order and the Aurors, and probably the Unspeakables and anyone else who can will be making sure Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters is completely safe. So we go a little early, and have our date then."

Hermione smiled at this, but Dr. Granger stepped in with a cough. "It's not very... atmospheric though, is it? A train yard first thing in the morning, I mean?"

Harry's face fell, but Hermione squeezed his hand. "Well first of all, we can do magic, so the atmosphere will be perfect. And second of all, it'll be my very first date with Harry, so I don't think we'll need much else."

Dr. Granger shook his head. "One of you is going to have to explain how exactly it is you've come to be dating for months without actually having been on a date before. This seems... peculiar. And what did you mean by an invisibility cloak?"

Harry sighed. This had all the makings of a long conversation.