HP: Night of the Wolf

July 26, 1994

Surry, England

Hermione woke with a massive headache. The light was too bright, hurting her eyes when she went to open them. She could smell bacon and eggs cooking. The smell of the bacon churned her stomach. After a few minutes, she was able to rock herself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.

She didn't get sick, but she was grateful that the acetaminophen was working by the time she wandered downstairs some point later. As she entered the kitchen, she moved to her father's coffee pot. It was empty so she opened the cupboard, took out a can of grounds and quickly had the device percolating. She leaned over the counter to savor the strong, pleasant aroma that she missed when at Hogwarts. She loved tea, but there was nothing like a cup of coffee when your head still hurt and you didn't want to be up. She was happy her father had allowed her to start drinking it last year. Of course, they were the only ones in the house that did. Her mother hated the stuff.

"More for me," she mused to herself.

She poured herself a cup when it was done, added some sugar and sipped at the black heavenly mixture. Her father drank it black, so she did as well. Something about the Americans he had served with in Lebanon who loved coffee and only drank it black when in the field. She didn't really care at the moment. It was coffee. She needed it. Her headache was going down and... Harry Potter was sitting at her table in the dining area off the kitchen.

She spluttered the coffee to see his wide green eyes and a flush to his face she had never seen before. "Harry! What are you doing here," she asked quickly putting the coffee cup down and rushing over to him. She gave him a quick hug before her mother cleared her throat.

"Morning, Hermione. Did you forget something," she asked in a calm manner. Hermione knew that tone though. Her mother's voice only took on the calm voice with an inflection that would always pull her up short when she was trouble.

She was in trouble and she didn't know why.

Hermione looked at her confused before following her mother's eyes down. Her face went white. Her purchases from Hogsmeade this past year were on full display. It was standard wear for her for days Harry was playing a match. The short sleeve maroon and gold shirt had a roaring lion on the front of it. It was a nice thick long sleeve shirt, that was a little warm for the summer, but she loved to wear it. Below it though, she caught sight of an embroidered snitch moving over her white knickers. That was not what she would typically show to anyone though.

"Oh, Merlin," she cried out, jumping away from him. She ran out of the room as fast as she could. In her stupor, she had forgotten to put on shorts or pajama bottoms, most nights sleeping without them in the summer and now Harry had seen her... "Merlin," she cursed, her face blazing with embarrassment. He was probably at the table the entire time watching her make the coffee. Why didn't he say anything!

How long had she been there? Ten minutes for the coffee to percolate? How was she ever going to show her face to him again?

Wait! Why was he here? Why was she here, for that matter? The last thing she remembered was being in St. Mungo's... much of the last few days came crashing back to her. It was a good thing she was in her room now. She sank to the floor leaning against her bed with a loud groan.

There was no coffee in the pot this morning because her father wasn't here. He was off with Professor Lupin, no, wait. She was supposed to call him Remus or Mr. Lupin now.

Oh, Remus. Her father! Harry. Harry! Did she really say those things? She groaned and lay over, putting her head onto her cool wood floor. Looking at it from this side of things, she could see why her father was so upset. Did she really tell Harry just to ask her out? Not that she didn't want that, but not like that.

A knock came at the door. "Hermione," her mother called through it. She didn't answer and a moment later her door opened. "Are you decent?"

"Can you just ground me to my room for the rest of my life," she asked her mother. "I can't go out there again."

Her mother came over and sat on the floor next to her. "How's your head? Healer Tonks said it may hurt some today."

Hermione made a pitiful sound. "You can say that. How am I going to show my face again?"

Her mother chuckled. "I have done far more embarrassing things than that, princess. Does your head hurt that much?"

"I think a train hit it," she said. "Mum, did I really say we could roll around later?"

"That was one of the more colorful things you said."

Hermione shut her eyes tight. She was always collected and logical about things. How could she say something like that? "Please, just ground me or send me away or something. Harry must think I've gone spar." She couldn't focus to get the right phrase.

"I really would not like to talk like that. I need you here. Your father needs you here. Harry needs you here." She could hear the pain and resilience in her mother's voice.

Her own pain thinking about her father threatened to overwhelm her for a moment, but for once she was going to be the self-loathing teen today. "I can't show my face around him again," she complained. She was a Gryffindor, not afraid to do almost anything, but to face Harry after how she acted yesterday and the show she gave him this morning...

"Well, I expect you to be dressed, fed and watered within the hour, whether you confront Harry or not. Remus gave us money to get Harry some clothes and any basic items he might need. I think he could use a new pair of trainers and some Wellingtons. He says he doesn't have a single pair and it's going to be raining hard the next few days. The rest of his stuff should be here later today." She patted her daughter's shoulder before getting up. "By the way, not sure what is on your knickers, but I like how it moves around. Something you got at school?" Hermione gave out a muffled scream as she buried her face into her arms. Her mum chuckled as she was leaving the room.

Hermione lay on the floor for a few more minutes. "Maybe I can just hide under a rock." She really didn't want to see anyone. Ever.

A good forty minutes later, she walked back into the kitchen. It was a damp day outside that threatened lots of rain and probably thunder. It was a sensible day for jeans, a green blouse and a tie in her unruly hair. When it rained like this, it was too frizzy to do anything else.

Harry had found somewhere else to go than the kitchen. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face him yet or not. Her coffee was where she left it. Cold coffee was not the best, but she downed it before pouring the rest of the pot down the drain. She frowned. It wasn't right for her to be drinking her father's coffee without him. She wondered if she could call him later. She really didn't remember talking to him yesterday and the worry of what was going on was starting to hit.

A knock came at the back door. She started and twirled. Tonks was looking into the window and waved at her. She waved at Tonks. "Go to the front door," she told her pointing towards the front of the house.

Tonks must have thought she motioned for her to come in because she opened the door. "Wotcher, Hermione," the long, purple hair Auror said.

"Don't drag mud and water into the kitchen," she said in her bossy voice. "Mum will make me clean it up."

Tonks waved her hand before taking her wand out. Hermione noticed that it just came into her hand. That looked very useful if she could figure out the Auror had done that. In a few seconds, she was dry, the water and mud were vanished and she smelled the soft scent of citrus. "Mum taught me that when she used to yell at me for the same thing. Though, hers smells like this wonderful flowery meadow."

Hermione looked at her longingly. "I can't wait until I can do magic whenever I want."

Tonks laughed. "With some of the stuff they put on your house, you could probably summon fiendfyre and the Ministry wouldn't notice. Well, maybe when your ward stone collapses."

"Are you telling my daughter to break Ministry Laws," her mother asked in an unimpressed tone as she walked in.

"It only counts if you get caught, Mrs. Granger," the Auror said with a cheeky grin.

Hermione looked at her incredulously. "Tonks. You're an Auror. I can't do that!"

Tonks snapped her fingers. "Oh, right, I'm on the clock. Speaking of which, where's your boyfriend? I know you wanted to get going, Mrs. Granger."

Hermione fought to keep her face passive. She wasn't going to give the woman the satisfaction of getting to her.

Her mum was looking at the woman. "How did they ever let you into the Aurors. My husband would have been disciplined for a joke like that."

Tonks shrugged. "I had my six NEWTs. I wanted to be an Auror. Passed all the tests. Not much else too it. Except two years of Auror Academy. A year as a trainee, which I have another six months to complete, and then two years as an Emergency response team member before I can choose what I want." She spoke as though it was the most natural thing to do.

Her mum shook her head. "Hermione, why don't you go get Harry before she corrupts you more. He's in his bedroom."

"Remember to take your wand. No need not to have it, just don't use it." Tonks took a chair and sat in it.

"Can Tonks go get him," she asked, trying to hide her heating cheeks thinking of Harry. He had just sat there, not saying anything. As she thought of it, her flush was not just embarrassment.

"I told you to get him, young lady," her mother said in her demanding tone.

Hermione stuck her chin up and marched out of the kitchen. Her parents didn't order her around much, but when they did, it always meant business. She stopped in her room to grab her wand and then found herself standing in front of the guest bedroom. She didn't raise her hand or do anything. She just stood there, not wanting to see any rejection in Harry's eyes for her actions. He was too important to drive away.

After several minutes, she knocked on the door. A moment later, Harry answered. He was wearing a nice pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt with 'The Stone Roses' on it and a pair of overlarge socks that she wasn't sure weren't her father's. There was something about the way the clothes fit, showing off his lithe form and the messy hair that made her embarrassed rosy cheeks morph into something different.

"Do you like it," he asked self-consciously at her look. "Tonks gave it to me. Said she went to one of their concerts last year. I haven't listened to the CD she handed me yet. Do you have a CD player or a Walkman I can borrow?"

Hermione blinked a few times. "I like it," she said. She felt so out of sorts today. Why would a rock t-shirt do that to her? Maybe it was the green eyes? "I have a Walkman you can borrow, or maybe we could listen to it together?"

He shied away. "Uhm, yeah. Listen, I wasn't trying to gawk earlier."

And then her embarrassment came rushing back. "Harry, it's nothing. I just have a headache and didn't realize, well, you know." She was trying not to play it up.

ooking up, he looked relieved. "Oh, yeah, good. There's probably some acetaminophen if you need it. Your mum got me some this morning."

"You two love birds coming or staying," Tonks called up the stairs.

They both looked at each other with wide eyes. "You know, yesterday, I wasn't really," Harry said abashed.

"Yeah. Yeah. I know, Harry," she said, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed or which thing they were talking about.

"So, ah, we should get going. No telling what Tonks will say next."

She nodded and allowed Harry to lead her downstairs. Talking between them had never been this awkward before. She only realized Harry had pulled her along, hand-in-hand, when he let go to put on his trainers. She frowned to see that they were held together with Spell-o tape and duct tape. Why hadn't she ever questioned the state of his clothing before? Thinking back on it, she was wondering why she never thought of his clothing. His trainers were always just about falling apart, his clothing was always three or more sizes larger than he was and many times, even his best looking stuff, had holes or worn stitching or something that made it seem like he had never owned anything new. Seeing him in clothing that fit was not normal to her. That thought bothered her.

"Harry, when was the last time you got a new pair of trainers," she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I always went to the secondhand store after school if I didn't want to have Dudley's old trainers."

She saw her mum look up from the bench she was sitting on. She had a Wellington half on. Hermione was putting her own Wellingtons on. It was pouring outside. She licked her lips. "Harry, are those Dudley's old trainers?"

Harry stood up, turning his shoes. She knew he didn't like attention and the way he was slouching spoke of that. "Um. These were some of the discarded ones at the secondhand store. Dudley's old ones were too big and had a sole torn out." He sounded very self-conscious and unsure.

"Well, let's find some nice trainers and get you some Wellingtons or something. Harry, you can borrow one of Dan's jackets today. Do you have any at the Dursley's?"

Harry looked towards the floor. He spoke loud enough that she was sure only she heard it. "I have a jacket," he told them.

She shared a look with her mother and Tonks, who was frowning, her eyes turning a grey color and looking dangerous. She was having a sudden realization of why Harry always wore his school uniform, instead of normal clothes on the weekends or in their down times. She had an anger growing in her at the people he called his relatives. Her head rocked a little. Wait! Harry always referred to them as his relatives, not his family. Harry never referred to anyone as family. Just friends and relatives. That was a hard realization for her. Harry didn't have a Family. At least no one he considered family.

She pursed her lips, anger on all her features. How did she never realize that or question that before? Was that one of the suppression charms? Suppress any real curiosity towards her best friend's life outside of Hogwarts. When she found out who had done that to her she was going to make them pay. "Hermione," Harry said tentatively.

She looked at him and he turned away from her. He was wearing one of her father's jackets that were way too large for him, but it was better than nothing. It was also in infinitely better condition than anything he was every 'given' at his relatives. "I didn't mean to upset you. We can do this another day. I don't need anything else."

She closed her eyes and counted to twelve before opening them. "No. Harry, you need these clothes. I'm not upset with you. Come on."

She wrapped her arms around his left arm and pulled him along. Harry would feel like he had a family, one way or another.

-oOo-

July 29, 1994

Sweden

Albus was waiting impatiently for the Representative from Paraguay to finish his ramblings on stricter controls and licensed hunting of lethifolds. It was the last bill on the docket for the session. A session that had dragged for almost two weeks where he should have been in England, trying to get Harry to a safe location. He knew now the Durley's home would never take a blood ward. He also doubted he would be able to cast an illegal blood ward again.

His contact at the Ministry had assured him that no one had linked Harry's isolation at the Dursley's to him. That was a good thing because it sounded as though the boy had been treated worse than he thought. Not that he was that bothered by it. It had made for a rather pliable boy desperate for affection. Albus had been able to fill it with a well-placed friend from a family that treated the boy well, some potions and compulsion to guide the boy and the unexpected add-on after that troll first year. He just hoped the Weasley's didn't cotton on to him before it was time. The matriarch of the family had a very protective streak to her and she had taken to Harry more than he had planned.

All that didn't matter if he couldn't find Harry. He had two days after this to get Harry to a new house in the Order's control before he was due in Poland for final preparation talks around the Tri-wizard tournament.

Harry was his top concern. He knew that Harry was in the care of friends, but he didn't know what that meant. To the best of his knowledge, Harry had two friends. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. The Weasley's had not heard anything about him besides what the Daily Prophet was reporting. Several owls had gone unanswered and Albus was no longer receiving mail to or from Harry.

He pursed his lips. His other tracking charms were not working either.

Harry had been taken to St Mungo's but that was where his trail of informers dried up. He would need to hunt down the boy tomorrow and place him where he belongs. Albus didn't want him to have much exposure to his friends or others over the summer. Harry's spirits were getting too high after he had saved his godfather and Albus couldn't have that.

Thinking of where else he could go, Albus discounted the Grangers almost right away. They had no wards or other means of protecting themselves or Harry. Her father was now going to be a werewolf and no one would place Harry in the same house as those creatures. Though, if the man survived, Albus could foster a better relationship with the girl and her family. Having another creature on his side for the coming war would be a plus. Remus was woefully ineffective, but he was the only werewolf Albus had on his side.

The only logical conclusion he could make was Sirius Black. Last he knew, Sirius had left the country and refused to take any of his owls. Albus would really like the man back in country. He might be a way to control Harry again, and if Albus could get access to the fabled Black library or artifacts, he might be able to find more information on his hunt for the Dark Artifacts Tom was using. He needed them all before Harry could fulfill his destiny.

He needed Harry.

"Head Mugwump," a wizard with a shrill voice and heavy accent cut into his ruminations.

"Yes, Tomasso," he asked the wizened old Italian wizard.

"They are asking for a vote and then there is a motion to end the conference until Christmas."

Albus let out an internal sigh. England used the Solstices and Equinoxes to call its sessions. The ICW used the third week in July, which often stretched into two or three full weeks, and the week between Christmas and the New Year.

"I call a vote on the Lethifold Eradication Bill of 1994. Blue sparks for yeah, red for nay. Court scribes, please record the counts and present them to the Head Council." He said with much pleasure.

-oOo-

July 31, 1994

Surry, England

Harry was already awake. He was glad to have his trunk from the Dursley's. His few possessions that he treasured, his Firebolt and his small library of schoolbooks and others were almost as valuable to him as his friends. He wasn't as happy at the questions from Hermione and her mother, even Tonks, about where the rest of his stuff was. After looking through his trunk, he confirmed everything he owned, except the now half-filled dresser and the half dozen hangers in the closet, were accounted for in his school trunk. He had slammed the door closed on Hermione yesterday when she had pestered him about where the rest of his stuff was.

Today was his fourteenth birthday. He didn't find anything special about it. Now that he could use his schoolbooks whenever he wanted, he had found the old desk in the sitting room to be his favorite place. The fact Hermione often took the oversize high back chair next to him to do her own reading or studying had been a plus. He had helped her some as she was researching more on werewolves and the laws around them. Tonks had already gotten her a stack of books four feet high from Diagon Alley. He enjoyed any time he got with Hermione, even if she was half a world away as she tried to find anyway she could to help her father. Today, though, he just wanted to be alone. Birthdays were not a particularly happy day for him.

In the last few days, he had been able to just about complete all his summer homework. He would have liked to have done it weeks ago, but he was only able to sneak his books out when his relatives went to bed and they had been working him hard this summer, and feeding him even less with Dudley's diet. Some nights he had fallen asleep because he could only focus on his stomach pains. It was not fair that at school he could eat what he wanted and then he would be lucky to eat one out of every three days when at Privet Drive.

Mrs. Granger had done what she could to feed him, but he found he just wasn't that hungry half the time, even if she did try to press seconds on him every night. Though, he found the pizza last night was really good and the three of them had managed to finish almost two large pizzas. He had no clue Hermione was such a pizza fanatic. It was never available at Hogwarts or the Burrow.

Harry had been up since before the sun and rubbed his eyes. The sun was finally coming over the horizon and a ray broke into the sitting room and caught him in the eye from a brass knob on a draw on the top of the desk. He sat up and yawned. He had been doing too much sitting the last few days and the urge to do something finally caught up with him. Having a week of full meals in him, he was finding himself restless.

Wood had encouraged them to keep up their physical routines over the summer so they would be ready in the fall when Angelina would most likely take the team over. Until now, Harry neither had the time, drive or energy to do so. He decided now was as good a time as any to start again. Last fall he had been winded the first few weeks before he got back into Wood's routine. This year, he would be ready. Harry closed his book with his mostly completed essay and returned it to his bag. He made his way up the stairs to the first floor. Hermione usually didn't rise 'til close to eight and Mrs. Granger was typically up by six-thirty. Meaning she would be up within the next half hour or so.

Harry opened his draws. It was still odd to think he had a wardrobe of clothes that were his size, new and his. He took out some shorts and a t-shirt. It was promising to be warm today, in the low twenty degree Celsius range. The thermometer in the back of the house was reading 18 when he went outside.

"Morning, Greenlee," Harry said to the Auror that was sitting on a chair in his cloak on the back deck. The Auror had a book open. "Anything good?

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter. Just some stuff on wards. My cousin is a Ward Weaver and she sends me some interesting stuff at times. Are you planning to leave the yard?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Just going to do some quidditch exercises." The book sounded interesting. He figured it might be heavy on runes though. He would have to ask Hermione to start working with him. He didn't care if Professor McGonagall didn't write back to him. He was going to take up the subject.

The man nodded. On the whole, the Aurors left them alone. Tonks was the only one to be friendly with them. The others were far more professional. Harry set to work, making short circuits of the small backyard. After ten minutes, he started his stretches before moving into his other exercises. By the time he made it into the house, he was sweaty and dirty. Harry was disappointed that after only a month or so, he could only do forty-eight pushups before he needed a break. He could easily do seventy before. Harry resolved to do this every morning until they went back to Hogwarts. Reaching for the door handle, he could smell himself. He would need to do some laundry. And take a shower.

All week, he had been doing chores or cooking to show his gratitude, often having Mrs. Granger shooing him away. Tomorrow, she was going back to work though, leaving just Harry and Hermione alone in the house. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. The Aurors would still be outside, but he was still unsure. Since he had been purged, he found he wanted to seek her out and he wanted to hold her hand. He even found he enjoyed her hugs. He found himself hugging her too. Many times, it was just to comfort her when she would get in a funk about her father. He couldn't deny, though, that he liked to touch her. He still stiffened the times Mrs. Granger tried to hug him.

The smell of coffee greeted him as the door opened.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said with a mug to her face. "Happy birthday. Want some?"

He scrunched his nose at her offer, not acknowledging it was his birthday. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 7:30. "You're up early today. Tea for me please."

Harry liked that she was acting more normal and was wearing all the clothes she should be. Though, he had to admit to himself, thoughts of her that morning were a little more prevalent than the nightmares he had been having. He hoped she didn't notice his eyes lingering on her.

She nodded. "It's your birthday. We are going to celebrate today. Go take a shower and I'll have a pot ready."

Harry didn't really want to do anything today, but he couldn't tell her that. He narrowed his eyes as she looked at him with a smirk. "Wait, what do you mean you want to celebrate with me? Hermione, what did you do?"

She gave him a look that said she was up to something. He knew that look. It was the one she wore that time they had met at the Shrieking Shack and she knew he was under the cloak. As though she knew something someone else didn't and found it funny. She hid her smile in her cup. "You are going out on your birthday, and you are going to like it," she told him.

Harry gave her a look before leaving the kitchen. On his way up to his room, Mrs. Granger called out from her room. "Harry, wear something comfortable today. You'll be heading out and may be out all day."

"Yes, Mrs. Granger."

An hour later, a little confused why he had to go out today, he found himself finishing a large breakfast that Hermione had made herself. He ate it, not having the heart to tell her she wasn't that good. How someone could burn eggs and still have them runny in the center was something he didn't understand. Soon after, she had brought three packages to him. "You can't open them yet," she told him in no uncertain terms.

"Then why give them to me," he asked.

"Because I thought they would be here by now." She was looking out the back door.

"Who? You've been saying that for a while now."

Mrs. Granger came into the kitchen. "Hermione, you did tell then 10:00?"

"Of course I did. I thought if we got there an hour or so early Harry could have a look around."

"Again, where are we going? I kind of wanted to finish my transfiguration essay."

Mrs. Granger raised an eyebrow. "I can see why Hermione likes hanging out with you."

"Mum," Hermione said sharply. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to get his work done. You can do it tomorrow, Harry. Today is your birthday and you're going to enjoy it. They're here," she said impatiently as he heard a few cracks of apparition. "You. Stay," she ordered as he went to get up to see who was there. She was being a little on the bossy side today. The door opened and closed.

"It's my birthday and she said I should enjoy it," he grumbled.

Mrs. Granger smiled at him. He didn't miss the pinch around her eyes or that she didn't really look all that happy. "Hermione was able to pull this off at the last minute and she is nervous you may not like it. Just have fun today."

He looked at her. Why would Hermione be nervous about this? Hermione walked back in with a smile on her face that made him feel better. "Right. Open your gifts and then we are going outside," she told him.

Harry gave her a look before complying. When he opened the largest box, inside the wrapping paper he found an envelope and a heavy honey color quidditch jersey for the Wimbourne Wasps. The jersey had a beaters bat hitting a wasp nest. Hermione was rocking on her heels. Harry took out the jersey, a look of wonder on his face. Over the last few years, as Harry had found out more about Quidditch, the Wasps had become one of his favorite teams, having finished in the top five the last three years. They had one of the best seekers, but weak on the chasers. "Open the envelope," she said nervously.

Harry opened it to find six tickets. A chaser in golden ink was flying around on a black background. He took in a deep breath when he realized he was holding tickets to a Wasp match that started at noon today. He looked up at Hermione. She still looked nervous. "Are these really for today?"

"Mr. Weasley agreed to take Ron after Remus contacted them the other day. Remus, Ron and Mr. Weasley are waiting out back. This is from Remus and the Weasley's also. I had to get six ticket because of the Aurors..." she didn't say anything else as Harry got up, wrapped his arms around her and spun her around the kitchen. After a second of stunned silence she laughed. "Harry, put me down."

"Oi, can we come in yet," Ron called out from the door. "And stop spinning Hermione. We both know she doesn't like heights."

Harry put her down, a wide smile on his face and moved to his best mate who shook his hand. "Ron, great to see you."

"Happy birthday, Harry," Mr. Weasley said behind him.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

Ron smiled before stepping back. Harry noticed he was wearing a Chudley Cannon's shirt. "We were really worried until Remus showed up Friday night. Then he said you were alright and offered for us to go see the Cannons..."

"We are going to see the Wasps," Hermione interrupted him.

"They are playing the Cannons. We know who is going to win," Ron said matter of fact.

"We do not. Besides, Harry likes the Wasps and Harpies more," she said with some ire.

Harry could see a row coming on, like often happened with them. "If Ron wants to support the Cannons, then he can. I am a Wasp today." He took out his shirt and put it over the t-shirt he was wearing. It was cloudy out and looked to threaten rain again.

Ron looked at him incredulously. "You didn't say you were getting him a Wasp jersey too. I thought you liked Harry," Ron said.

"I do like him, thank you very much. That is why I got him a quidditch shirt he would like."

"All right, you two," Mr. Weasley said, being used to the bickering between them. "I know Remus said he wanted to get there early to give you lot a chance to look around before the match."

"Right. Am I expecting them back for dinner?" Jane was leaning against the counter.

"Good morning, Jane. Most likely, unless the match goes over. Molly would like us not to be too late. Hogwarts letter should be arriving today or tomorrow and she wants to strike out early tomorrow for Diagon Alley. I meant to mention, Harry is invited over for the rest of the summer," the man said amiably.

Typically, Harry would have jumped at the opportunity, but this year, he didn't really feel the need to go to the Burrow. "You would need to take that up with Remus and Harry, though I think Harry has been enjoying it here," Mrs. Granger spoke up.

"I do," he said quickly. "I don't want to leave."

Everyone turned to look at him and he retreated back a step. Hermione stepped closer and took his hand. "No one is going to make you leave, Harry."

"He needs to come to the Burrow," Ron said. "We can go flying in the orchard everyday, go swimming and play chess."

"How about we have this conversation later," the calm voice of Remus said as he walked into the kitchen. "Happy Birthday, Harry. Are we ready to go? It's already past 10:30 now."

"Oh, we're already late. The gates opened at ten. I wanted to be there just after they opened," Hermione said flustered.

Remus chuckled. "Hermione. There is still plenty of time. Shall we go?"

"Yes," she said grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him out into the backyard.

"Right, Ron with your father. Harry with me. Hermione with Fawlsey. We are going to side-along apparate there."

"Hermione should go with you, Remus," Harry told him. He trusted Remus the most out of the adults here.

Remus gave him a look. "All right, Hermione," the man said stretching out his arm.

"Does it matter," Ron said. "I just want to get there. I've haven't been to a match before."

Harry frowned at his friend. Yes it mattered. Harry didn't know why, but it mattered a great deal to him. "Ron, it's Harry's birthday. Let him be. Come on. Let's go then," Mr. Weasley said with some excitement. Harry had a feeling this was as much a treat for the Weasley's as it was for him. They apparated with a crack.

"He didn't even wish Harry a Happy birthday," she muttered. "Oh, you didn't open your other presents," she said to him.

"Later, Hermione. Ready," Remus asked.

A somewhat short Auror stepped up to them. He looked to be only a few years older than Tonks with short sandy hair and an earring in his right ear. Harry had only met him yesterday, but already he liked the man. He had a feel as though he was the one that everyone in school would look to, but there was a badass vibe there also that Harry was drawn too. If he was to be an Auror, Fawlsey was what he wanted to be like. Tonks was fun, and she must be skilled to be put in with a senior squad while only a trainee, but she didn't project a sense of danger like Fawlsey.

"I really wanted him to open the other one," she told Remus.

"Later. Hold on tight. On the count of three. One. Two."

Harry didn't hear him say three as they turned. Like that night Tonks had taken him, Harry felt like he was being drawn through a straw. It was a very uncomfortable feeling and he thought it was going to squeeze him until his eyes bulged. Then, it was suddenly over. They stood in the center of a small copse of trees between two roads and behind an old row building. Ron was already waiting for them and Harry looked around for Hermione who appeared a second later. He let out a breath.

"Right, the pitch is right over here. If we get done early, we can go to the shoppes. There are a few interesting ones here," Mr. Weasley said taking off in the direction of the pitch.

They walked out onto a muggle road, a few more cracks coming behind them. It was a short hundred meters to a back alley, where he saw a few other people in wizarding robes or team Jerseys in yellow, yellow and black strip or orange, walking from the other direction. Hermione had fallen in besides him, taking his hand. Harry was glad for the touch. It was becoming almost natural for them to do this.

Ron was bouncing. "Do you think Gufrey will be keeper today? He had to sit the last two matches," Ron asked. Harry shrugged as the redhead looked back. There was a sudden look of shock on his face to see them holding hands.

"I don't know. Igor has done pretty well the last two matches," his father said.

"I must admit, I have not really been following the league this year." Remus spoke from behind them.

Ron had a look of concentration on his face. Harry tried to return an even look. It was his birthday, and he was enjoying how she intertwined their fingers. He was supposed to enjoy his birthday. Right?

"Ron, you may want to turn around," Hermione told him.

Ron turned in time to avoid walking into the side of the building. Harry felt his cheeks flush some. Had Harry just made a statement about him maybe liking Hermione? Well, not maybe, but he didn't want to lose her as a friend. Or Ron. Harry saw a few of the wizards step into a set of double doors. A Wasps banner was flying over it, but besides that, it looked much like any other door around.

"Well, the Wasps are in fourth right now. If they beat the Cannons by more than two hundred, they could secure a second spot."

"Dad, the Cannons are not going to lose," Ron said with indignity.

"Of course not, Ron," his father placated. "Right, in here."

Mr. Weasley opened the door and they walked into an atrium with dark wood stairs, a teller and woman selling concessions on the other side. "Get your tickets here, or you can go up the stairs if you have them," a nice wizard in his middle years said from the booth.

"Are those roasted chestnuts," Ron said looking at the concessions.

His father laughed. "There are more inside. You lot can get lunch before we go into the stands."

"Hermione, the tickets," Remus said.

"Oh, right," she said. Harry suddenly patted his pockets. In his excitement, he had forgotten them. Hermione pulled out the envelope from her back pocket.

After making sure they all had a ticket, they made their way up the stairs and turned to where the back of the building should be. Harry's eyes opened wide to see they were in the supports of a large quidditch pitch. There were carts and stalls around. A hundred or more wizards, witches or children could be seen and more were coming up behind them. "Woah," Harry said looking around. The supports around the pitch were easily three times that of Hogwarts and he could see three levels of seats. He knew his eyes must have been the size of saucers. He wanted to go find his seat and have the match start.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Hermione said taking his hand again before coming in close and rising up to give him a kiss on the cheek. His smile was ear to ear.

"You never give me a kiss on the cheek," Ron said.

"Well, it's not your birthday and you haven't done anything to deserve a kiss on the cheek, Ronald Weasley."

Ron looked taken back for a moment. Harry really wanted them to stop. Since last year when Hermione had taken his broom, it had been non-stop. His ire was getting up at his best mate. "Why don't we go find something to eat and then go to our seats."

"Yeah, sure," Ron said, looking confused and even more thoughtful. Harry wasn't sure what the issue was.

They found a stall selling pasties and pies. After getting one each, with a butter beer, they ate before going up to their seats. By this point, there were two or three thousand people there. It was the most witches or wizards he had ever seen in one place. More surprising was that the stadium was in the center of town. He couldn't imagine how muggles didn't see this. "It's enchanted with muggle repelling, notice-me-not, disillusionment charms and a half dozen other charms so that the muggles don't notice," Hermione told him as though reading his thoughts.

"Who cares? I just want to see the match," Ron said. "Dad, did you get a roster for today?"

"I was wondering," Harry told him. Hermione looked put out next to him. "How do they make the spells powerful enough to make it last and cover this size area?"

"Ward stones and runes," Remus said. "Looks like everyone is filing in. Should start soon."

Ron had gotten a pamphlet from his father. "Look, Dawson is going to be seeker. Bugger, Igor again. You don't think they will cut Gufrey?"

"Is Bennet playing seeker for the Wasps," Harry asked.

Ron flipped the sheet over. "Yep. They replace Verona with Westly on Chaser. Prophet said Verona took a good bludger hit or two last match."

"How do you remember all this but you can't remember the difference between a Cornish pixie and a Swedish fairy wing pixie," she asked him.

"It's quidditch," Ron said with fervor. "When will I ever need to know that other stuff? Oh, no. Everwand is the official."

Harry frowned at Ron. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Ron, ease up," Harry said in a low voice.

Ron looked at him, confused. "What? I didn't say anything bad," Ron said.

"You've been blowing it back at Hermione since we came into the pitch."

"What? We aren't in school. I don't want to hear a single thing about Hogwarts and classes for another month," he blew it off as though it was nothing.

"Oh, Hogwarts. That reminds me Harry. I have a letter from the Headmaster for you. He stopped by yesterday and said I was to give it to you if I saw you."

Remus reached over to take an envelope that Mr. Weasley had taken from a pocket in his cloak. "I don't think Harry needs to worry about any of that right now. I see the Official has come out onto the field. It's going to start soon."

Harry felt confused by how fast Remus reached for the letter. Hermione scrunched her brow, which raised his suspicions. Opposite them, the excitement in Ron reached a fevered pitch. He bounced his leg and alternated between sitting and standing. The tickets Hermione had gotten landed them in the center of the pitch, on the second tier and allowed them to see the entire pitch. "Welcome everyone to the Hornet's twelfth match of the season. Going into this week, the hometown favorites are standing fourth, and with three more matches before the finals, they are looking to keep that standing, maybe even secure a third or second this week."

"What about the Cannons," Ron yelled out. There were far more yellow and striped shirts than the orange Cannon shirts.

Harry watched in rapt attention as the match started. Ten minutes in, Harry understood why Ron didn't like Everwand. The man was a menace, getting in the middle of the play at times and calling fouls that were perfectly legal, if unquestionable. Or, at least Harry thought them legal. There were over 700 fouls and the Ministry and the International Quidditch Association had only published a little over 200 of them, not wanting to give players 'any ideas'.

As it went on, he watched the Seekers. Twice, he watched Bennet, a petite woman in her early thirties, run the Cannons' chaser into the ground in a feint he had never seen before. As he watched it, he wished he had a video camera to film this. He would study it for weeks to learn her moves. Dawson was a fair player, but Harry realized he had a lot to learn if he wanted to be a top-notch seeker close to Bennet's abilities. Bennet was ranked third in the English-Irish league right now, had been seeker and back up Seeker for England twice each and he doubted he could catch her.

"You haven't taken your eyes off the Seekers for the last hour," Hermione leaned over to him.

"Oi!" Both Weasley's cried out. "That wasn't a foul," Mr. Weasley exclaimed. It had become obvious early in the match where Ron got his love of the Cannons and Quidditch.

"They're brilliant. I didn't even know some of these were moves. Look. Bennet is leading Dawson towards the far end of the pitch. I think she's seen the snitch by the Cannons' goalpost and wants him out of position. If they went now, Dawson would most likely get it, even with Bennet being the better player. There, see? She's feinting to get him to commit towards the far end of the pitch," Harry explained watching the match. Everwand hadn't blown his whistle yet to bring action to the match again, so the feint was subtle and pulled Dawson way out of position. Harry wasn't sure that the guy still wasn't confused after the second time he had planted into the pitch.

Ron and Mr. Weasley were still yelling at the Official, as was a good amount of the stadium, whether Cannon or Hornet fan. This match had the highest amount of fouls he had ever seen. "Harry, you sound like you know exactly where the snitch is," she said leaning more into him.

"I do," he said with a smirk. He wouldn't ruin the surprise. He also liked that she leaned into him trying to follow where he was looking.

"Can you believe this. That is the eighth foul on Tillinghast," Ron complained sitting down heavily next to him. "Did you see that Harry? He called blagging. Tillinghast only pushed Zahn's broom. That isn't illegal. The prat Zahn will score again. Igor can't block anything today. Dawson better get that snitch soon. It's 280 to 190."

Harry nodded. "Sure, Ron. Hermione, watch," Harry told her, a smile on his face in anticipation. He saw it coming before the whistle was blown.

"What are you looking at," Ron said. It was another ten seconds for the whistle to blow. Just before it did, Ron saw the setup. "Dawson! You're out of position!"

The whistle blew. Bennet took her queue and took off like a rocket on her Firebolt. She dove towards her goal posts and waited for Dawson to commit, even though he clearly hadn't seen the snitch. Somehow she managed to roll and took off towards the snitch, which had drifted a little more towards mid field. It was hovering and must have been touching the grass. As though sensing it had been seen, the tiny golden ball took off. Harry caught Dawson turn, but was not as grace or talented as Bennet. She shot up, trying to cut it off as Dawson trailed a good 20 meters or more behind. It was a short chase leaving Bennet holding the snitch high.

Harry and Hermione stood and cheered with the rest of the Hornet's fans while Ron slumped onto the seat and Mr. Weasley stood there for a moment before clamping his hands together. Remus rose an eyebrow when Hermione hugged him and kissed him on the cheek again. Harry felt his cheek when she pulled away. As they walked out, Ron was complaining about the fouls and how they had cost the Cannons. It didn't matter that the Hornets had gotten more fouls. Harry didn't think the fouls had anything to do with it.

As they walked out, Harry got into a heated debate with his best mate about Igor and Woollrich, the Hornet's Keeper. That was until Hermione dragged him off to a stall that had more books on quidditch than Harry had ever seen. His eyes glazed over with titles like The Seekers guide to Seeking or Great Matches of the early Twentieth Century. Harry was tempted to buy them all, but settled on a thick book that focused on modern plays and play styles and the Seekers Guide to Seeking. Ron looked envious and he grabbed another copy of Most Modern and Intricate Techniques for Ron. It cost twelve galleons, and Harry promised Ron it would be his Christmas and Birthday gift for the next few years.

Hermione looked smug that Ron would want to read such a thick book, especially when she found there were three chapters on the theory and arithmancy of broom flight and design and how it influenced the match.

Harry was still talking about the match and the Seekers when Ron thanked Harry for taking him and finally wished Harry a Happy Birthday. Hermione beamed at him as he tried to describe what he had seen to Mrs. Granger as she put a cake in front of him.

Getting ready for bed, Harry thought he had just had the best day of his life. He felt a little guilty to know Hermione had done all this for him as her family dealt with her father, but Mrs. Granger had said Hermione wanted to do this. Secretly, he was thinking more about how close she was to him all day than the quidditch game. Tomorrow, he would complete his transfiguration essay and then dig into those books with Hermione about werewolves.

He sat on his bed, hoping it wasn't too selfish of him to open his new book on Seekers and tactics. He yawned as he got through the introduction and started on chapter one. It was close to eleven and he needed to get to sleep soon if he was to keep up his new workout routine. A knock on his door caused him to call out, "It's open."

Hermione opened the door and poked her head in. "Harry, I didn't wake you, did I?"

He looked up and smiled. "No. I was just about to go to sleep."

She smiled. "Mind if I come in?"

He motioned to his bed. She walked in wearing a blue night shirt and shorts. He watched as she sat on the side of the bed near him. He tried to make sure his eyes didn't follow her legs. He waited for her to say something, seeing she was obviously trying too. After a moment, she let out a big breath. "Harry, did you enjoy today?"

He knew his smile was wide. "It was brilliant, Hermione. I don't know how to repay you," he told her.

She gave a small smile. "Harry, you don't need to repay me anything. It was your birthday. I did it because I wanted you... I mean too."

She cast her eyes down, her cheeks coloring some. Harry had seen her do that a few times in the past week. He found he liked it when she did that. It was so unlike her, but it was her at the same time. It was also extremely cute. Harry reached out and took her hand. "Hermione, it has been the best birthday. This morning, I wanted nothing to do with this day. Now, well," he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. "Well, I have a memory I will never forget."

His hand was squeezed tight. She looked into his eyes "Harry, did you ever celebrate your birthday before today? You looked so sad this morning."

Harry cast his eyes down. He had never talked about what it was like outside of Hogwarts to any of his friends. It had been hard that day the WCS Representative had come to see him a day after they came here. He made sure that neither of the Grangers were there. He didn't tell the kind witch everything, but enough that she left with two parchments of notes. He felt like he was doing something wrong. Hermione had been very good not to bug him about it after their small row over his trunk.

After such a nice day and with how she was always there for him, he felt he owed her something. He just didn't want to ruin this day or have her look at him differently.

"Please, Harry. I want to know."

She had never asked him like that before, and looking up, he saw pleading eyes that made him squirm. He never wanted to disappoint her and felt a need to give her what she wanted. Harry took in a deep breath. "This is the first birthday I have ever had a cake, or friends... or someone to do something like this."

"Oh, Harry. Why didn't you ever say anything? I knew things were bad, but you never even had a cake when you were younger?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe before my parents were killed. Oh, there was that one Hagrid made for my eleventh that Dudley ate." She was looking at him with bright eyes, threatening to overflow with tears. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but he went on. "Most years before I went to Hogwarts I was locked in my cupboard first thing in the morning and could smell the cake my Aunt would make for Dudley. If I was lucky, I would get a cheese or ham sandwich and a double helping of crisps as a birthday present."

She looked horrified. Her hands were up to her mouth. "Harry, that's awful. What do you mean you were locked in your cupboard?"

Harry grimace. He had said more than he meant. "It was nothing. Just forget it, Hermione. Thank you for today."

The horrified look on her face turned to a righteous anger. "Harry James Potter, that is not nothing. Your relatives locked you in a cupboard on your birthday! Did you get any presents? And what do you mean if you were lucky you would get a cheese sandwich and some extra crisps! You make it sound like that is all you ate!"

"Just forget it," Harry told her angrily and turned away.

"Harry, how can I forget it! You really didn't eat anything else, did you? Did you, Harry?" Her voice was more a growl at the last word.

"No," he yelled out, jumping off the bed and starting to pace, his hands moving frantically. "Many days I didn't eat anything. Is that what you want to hear?"

He didn't look at her as the words poured out. "There were nights when the hunger pangs would stop and those were the good nights. Usually I would get a few days of two or three meals after that. When I could sneak out of my cupboard I would usually try to steal what I could, typically whatever was on the top of the trash, otherwise Aunt Petunia would notice and then I would be lucky to eat for a week. Then they found out I was stealing out of the trash and started to make me take out the trash every night. I would steal what I could there until Uncle Vernon found me one time. I couldn't walk for two days after that one. From that point on, Aunt Petunia took out the trash. I think I was five, maybe six when that happened. Is this what you want to hear?"

He looked at her. Her eyes were burning with angry tears while her mouth was open in shock. He wanted to stop. He needed to stop. Tears stung his eyes. Harry didn't stop though. "Hermione, I'm petrified that I will do something wrong here. When your mum stops me from doing chores or kicks me out of a room because I should be doing something else besides cleaning, I get so afraid that she will decide to stop giving me food. What if she decides that I am too much trouble? I won't go back into a cupboard and where else will I go?"

His hands were shaking. "Where will I go?" He let out a ragged breath. "What if your father comes back? I don't know what I will do if he takes a belt to me. I don't do anything wrong, Hermione. I couldn't help it when I shattered the windowpane when I wanted to go outside and play when I was six and had to clean the windows. I didn't mean to let a snake loose at the zoo and trap Dudley in the exhibit on his eleventh birthday, or break his new toys on his eighth when he was teasing me about it."

Hermione jumped off the bed and sank to the floor as he fell to his knees. "I didn't know I was doing magic. I was so hungry so many nights. Why do they hate me," he asked as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tried so hard to keep his tears in. He fought it. When Hermione pulled him close to her and kissed him on the top of his head, he lost it.

He cried for the first time he could remember since he was five, maybe six. Crying in the past only got him more pain. "Harry, mum and dad would never do that," she told him. For a while, she held him, saying all she could, trying to comfort him. He jumped out of her arms when someone else touched him on his back.

"Harry, it's all right," Mrs. Granger said quietly.

He pulled away from her, just about knocking Hermione over to get away. He tried to slide his bottom across the floor, his feet looking for purchase, but Hermione wouldn't let him go. "Harry, you're safe." She told him. Hermione repeated it a dozen times before he stopped and fell back into her arms. She cradled him to her chest. He wanted to stop, but the tears and gasps for breath just wouldn't stop. "Mum, what did they do him?"