All was quiet on Privet Drive. The sun blazed overhead and a cat rushed under a Ford Mustang that was parked in the drive way of number 2. Harry Potter walked toward the park alone. Again. He didn’t know why all of his summer holidays had to be spent in solitude. He wished someone were there that he could actually talk to about the war.
Not about the war. About how he could get through this. Physically and emotionally. Some days he thought about just running away and leaving the country. For good. But then Voldemort would take over and the world would be doomed. And he’d be in worse shape than now. He jumped over the fence and sat on top of the monkey bars. Dudley had managed to break the last swing the other day, so there was no where else to sit. If only Hermione were here. She always knew what to say to make him calm down and think things through rationally.
Harry lay back on the monkey bars and stared at the trees overhead. He’d just had lunch and was starting to get tired. Without realizing, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Hermione couldn’t wait to see Harry. He had no idea she was coming to visit him at number 4 Privet Drive. Heck, he probably didn’t know it was his birthday. But it was, and Hermione wanted to see him on his birthday to try and make him forget about the war for just one day. They’d have fun and play games and goof around.
But she had to prepare things first. It wasn’t difficult, really. She Apparated into Mrs. Figg’s living room, said hello, and set off for number 4, bag strapped to her back. She had a camouflage Muggle draw-string bag with her name sewn onto it. She hoped she would pass as pure Muggle. She knocked on the door and Mrs. Dursley answered.
“Yes?” she said stiffly.
“Hello,” Hermione said. “My name is Hermione Granger. Does Harry Potter still live here?” Petunia’s face strained to stay pleasant.
“Sadly, yes,” she said.
“Oh, good,” Hermione said, sounding relieved. “I live just around the corner there and I became good friends with Harry during a summer vacation a while back. Is Harry inside?” She peered around Petunia, hopeful to get a look at the house. She knew Harry was at the park. She saw him sitting on the monkey bars as she left Mrs. Figg’s house. She had so badly wanted to run up and hug him. But that would ruin her surprise.
“No, he’s not,” Petunia said. “He usually leaves after lunch and comes back around dinner. I’m Petunia Dursley, Harry’s aunt.”
“Oh, yes, I remember Harry telling me about you. Didn’t his parents die in a car crash?” Petunia nodded, a little more relaxed. Obviously if she was one of them, she’d know Harry’s parents were killed by Voldemort and not a car crash. “So he’s not here?” Petunia shook her head. “Oh,” Hermione said, looking crestfallen. “Well, can I come in? I know today’s his birthday and I wanted to do something special for him. We’re close,” she added when she saw the questioning look Petunia shot her.
“Very well,” Petunia said and stepped aside.
“Thank you,” Hermione said as she walked over the threshold. She looked around. Dudley was sitting on the couch in front of the television watching a boxing station and staring at the screen as two very ugly and very large men punched the living daylights out of each other. Vernon was sitting in the recliner and reading a newspaper. He was half way through turning the page when he noticed Hermione.
“Who are you?” he growled. Hermione was a little taken aback at his gruffness.
“I’m Hermione Granger, sir. I’m here to see Harry for his birthday.” As soon as she spoke the first syllable, Dudley’s eyes were on her, trailing from her shoes to the top of her head. She noticed his eyes seemed to linger on her chest much longer than should have been considered proper. She became suddenly aware that she was wearing clothing that Dudley might find enticing. Camouflage cargo pants and an army green shirt that showed less than an inch of her stomach. She crossed her arms. “But Petunia said he wasn’t here yet, so I’ll just wait.”
Vernon just grunted and returned to his paper. Dudley was still staring at her. She started to get nervous and turned to Petunia.
“Um, I actually had a surprise planned for Harry, but I’ll need some time to get it ready,” she explained. “Could you show me where Harry’s room is?”
“Up the stairs, first door on the right,” Petunia said and walked into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Hermione said and walked up the stairs. She found Harry’s room immediately. It was the only door that had four locks and a cat flap on it. She opened the door, stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She spotted Hedwig in her cage. “Hey, girl. You know me, right?” Hedwig hooted happily and nipped at Hermione’s fingers affectionately.
Hermione smiled. “All right, can you be very quiet for me?” She hooted once and went silent. “Good girl.” Hermione turned to face Harry’s room. Surprisingly tidy, she thought. Everything was in perfect order and the bed was made.
She was just about to get her wand out and put a silencing charm on the room when someone knocked on the door. She laid her bag on Harry’s bed and opened the door. It was Dudley.
“Hello?” Hermione asked politely.
Dudley leaned against the door way. “So, how do you know my cousin?” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.
“We met during summer about eight years ago,” she said. “I haven’t really spoken to him except during summers, but we’re really close.” Dudley frowned.
“Who’s asking?” Hermione said and mimicked his position against Harry’s closet, which was right by the door. Dudley did not answer. She didn’t know why; it was a perfectly easy question. “Harry’s told me about you too. Dudley, isn’t it?” Dudley nodded. “Well, can you keep a secret, Dudley?” she whispered. Dudley nodded vigorously. Hermione crooked her finger at him. He leaned closer. She whispered in his ear, “I think Harry underestimates you.” And he basically melted into a puddle of goo. She stood up strait and Dudley did the same with difficulty. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Dudley said.
“When Harry gets home, will you tell him there’s a girl in his room who wants to talk to him? Don’t tell him who I am, I want it to be a surprise. All right?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Good.” And she shut the door in his face and locked it.
Harry woke up. He hadn’t been asleep for long. He decided to run around the block once or twice (he needed to let off some steam), then go home early.
Hermione watched Harry start to run around the block. She knew he had a lot on his mind. She was going to take care of that. She had a whole thing planned out.
On his desk, there were two plates and a tall candle. On the wall above his window, was a banner that said “Happy 17th Birthday, Harry!” in red and blue. Beside the two plates was a small chocolate cake that had 17 candles on it in the shape of a lightning bolt. She thought it was amusing. They weren’t lit yet, so she had a box of matches lying next to the tall candle in between the plates.
She had his present wrapped and was standing next to the window, holding it in her hands. She saw Harry making his second lap—and he had taken off his shirt and tied it around his waist.
She leaned out the window to try and get a closer look. The way his sweat dripped down his forehead and off of his jaw line, down his chest and followed the trail of hair that continued on down into the waistband of his trousers. Her breath caught in her throat and she held her breath (Man alive! she thought. Mm-mm-mm!)—
. . . and she fell out the window. . .
. . . and landed in the dirt from two stories up. On her stomach, no less. And she bet she sounded graceful as she slipped, too. Probably something like, “Wuah!” really high-pitched and a loud “Oof!” as she hit the ground. She checked to make sure Harry hadn’t seen her. He had already turned the corner. She sat up. “Why couldn’t I be like Neville and bounce off the ground?” she murmured to herself.
She looked up and saw a boy across the street. He looked to be about four years old. He had been riding his bike and stopped when she fell. “Oh, bugger off!” she said. The boy started and rode away as fast as his legs would pedal.
“Oh, bugger, bugger, bugger!” she said to herself and stood up. She had mud all over her clothes. She had to change before Harry got there. Her parents had always told her she changed fast. Maybe she could do it before Harry got home. First, she had to get back in. She knocked on the door again.
“Good heavens, what happened to you?” Petunia asked.
Hermione made a sheepish grin and said, “I . . . fell out the window.” Petunia raised her eyebrows. “Look, can I just go upstairs?” Hermione pleaded and went without being told she could.
Harry turned the corner and stopped. He heard a loud noise. He backed up and saw a girl in front of number 4.
“Hermione?” he mused to himself. She went inside. Harry decided to finish his lap then see what was going on.
He was almost all the way back around when he came across a boy on a bicycle.
“Hey, did you see that girl in front of number 4?” he asked. The boy stopped and nodded. “Did she say anything?”
“She told me to bugger off, because I saw her fall out of the window,” said the boy with a grin. “It was quite funny.”
“Thank you,” Harry said and continued. Hermione fell out of a window? That had to have been comical. He came up on the house again and this time, went inside. As he walked past the laundry room, he threw his shirt in the grays’ pile. He turned around to see Dudley right in front of him.
“There’s a girl in your room. She wants to talk to you,” he said.
“A girl?” Harry said. “Does this girl have a name?”
“She told me not to tell you. She just told me to tell you to go up and talk to her or something of the sort.” He paused, thinking. It seemed to be causing him great pain. “How is it that you have friends who are normal and not—you know—your kind. Especially one that looks like that.”
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“Hot!” Dudley said. “I mean, no one in their right mind would want to be friends with you.”
“Maybe she’s not in her right mind,” Harry said and walked up the stairs to his room. He touched the door handle. He could literally feel the magic. A spell or charm was on his room. It was definitely Hermione. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. He decided to play a little game with her. Maybe sneak in and see what she was doing.
“Alohomora,” he whispered and opened the door.
(Same time as Harry and Dudley’s conversation)
Hermione rushed into Harry’s room. She locked the door by magic and put a silencing charm on the room. She conjured up a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. She had her pants off and was working on her shirt when she heard the lock click open. Only a witch or wizard could unlock that door. That must mean Harry was home. And walking in on her in her underwear. Oh, sweet Merlin, help, she thought.
She hid in the corner behind his closet. Harry walked in quietly and froze, listening for any sign of movement. Oh, god, she thought, panicking. She sunk to the floor. Harry heard her back sliding down the wall. He looked around the closet.
Harry crept into his room. He heard a shuffling noise behind the closet and peeked around. He saw Hermione scrunched in a ball by his closet. And she looked naked from where he was standing. Then she peeked up at him.
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry said.
“Ahh!” she screamed. Harry shook his head. Girls are so fidgety. Which wasn’t very good for Harry, since he thought she was naked (her underwear wasn’t showing in the position she was in). For some reason it had a . . . very interesting effect on him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, still slightly confused as to why he was being aroused by the sight of his best friend without any clothes on. It wasn’t as if he could see anything, or wanted to see anything. . . . Did he?
“Turn around,” she said, a bit annoyed he hadn’t seen the large banner. He did so and read the banner.
“Is it really my birthday?” he asked.
“Of course, silly,” she said and stood up. He was still facing the window and desk where she had the plates set up. And he still thought she was naked. Which was why he felt feverish and avoided looking in her direction. “What’s wrong?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He chanced a quick look and realized she still had on her underwear. But it was still very revealing. He didn’t know why this was affecting him so much. It was just Hermione.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you in just your underwear?” he asked. Hermione blushed and swiftly pulled on her shorts and tank top.
“Sorry,” she said. “My other clothes got dirty and I had to change on the spot. Only, I got about half way before you came in—“
“Why didn’t you just scourgify them?” Harry asked. Hermione, paused, thinking.
“Your aunt and uncle would have been suspicious!” she exclaimed, though, truthfully, she’d forgotten. “They think I’m a Muggle! It would have ruined my cover.”
“Really?” Harry asked, sarcastically. He shook his head, amused. “Well, too late now, I suppose. No harm done. And thanks for this.” He gestured to the cake and banner. “I honestly had forgotten today was my birthday.”
“I thought you might’ve,” she said and struck a match to light the tall candle as Harry pulled a shirt out of his closet and put it on. “And I wanted to surprise you.”
“Mm,” Harry grunted. “And, tell me something: would this surprise have anything to do with you falling out a window and telling a little boy to bugger off?” Hermione blushed.
“He talked to you, didn’t he?”
“Yup.” Harry laughed. “I have to admit, I was laughing as I finished my lap. And, by the way, Dudley thinks you’re—quote, unquote—hot, and was curious as to why you’d be my friend.”
Hermione smiled. “I can’t believe your cousin is so perverted. He basically threw himself on me when I came in.” Harry frowned.
“He didn’t touch you, did he? In any way?” he said and held her shoulders as if to make sure she wouldn’t fall apart.
“I’m fine, Harry,” Hermione said smiling. “You honestly think I’d let that pig touch me to shake my hand?”
“I guess not,” Harry said. “I’m just very protective of my Hermione.” He pulled her into a hug. “Even though she can take perfectly good care of herself,” he added.
“You know it,” she said. “Now, come on. Let’s eat that cake.” She walked over to the desk and lit all the candles. “Make a wish and blow out the candles.” Harry shook his head.
“Uh-uh. You gotta sing ‘Happy Birthday’ first,” he said.
“I’m not going to sing you ‘Happy Birthday’,” she said. “Not by myself.”
“We could always ask Dudley to join us,” Harry said. Hermione’s eyes grew wide.
“Okay, solo for me,” she said. Harry laughed. “Shut up.”
“Ready to sing?” he said. She made a face and sighed.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Harry. Happy birthday to you. There. I sang. Happy?”
“Very.” He smiled. “Now I get to make a wish.” He rubbed his hands together. What to wish for? He tapped his finger on his chin in a very obvious manner. He figured he should wish that he would defeat Voldemort. Or, better yet, wish that he survived the final battle. He looked in Hermione’s eyes.
She was getting impatient. Tapping her foot and smiling sweetly at him. What he wouldn’t give to have her with him for always. Things would be so much easier. She made him laugh, but she always knew when to be serious. She helped him figure things out and she helped him stay focused. He knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Even if it wasn’t his fault, he would feel guilty for having left her vulnerable or alone. He wanted to keep her safe, even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself. That’s it! He’d wish he would always be able to keep her safe. That was probably the best thing he could think up and he grinned to himself as he blew out all the candles in one breath.
“Now, let’s eat,” she said. She picked the first candle off the cake and sucked all the icing off the end. She took the next one and handed it to him. He took it and sucked on the end. Chocolate. He smiled. So did she.
She pulled two more candles out of the cake and started to hand him one. But when he was about to take it from her, she pulled it out of his reach and sucked the icing off of both candles.
“You’re mean,” he said.
“How’s that?” she asked and licked off another candle.
“You know I love chocolate,” he whined. She licked another one. “Tease.” He shoved her lightly and took a candle for himself. She laughed.
“What did you wish for?” she asked and took another candle.
“I thought that if you told anyone it wouldn’t come true,” Harry countered and took another candle.
“Come on,” she said. “You don’t believe that stuff, do you? A simple statement can’t change your life, you know.” She reached for another candle. “Now, come on. Tell me what you wished for.” He sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “I wished that I’d always be able to keep you safe.” Her hand froze in midair and she dropped the candle on the floor. She looked him in the eye.
“Me?” Harry nodded.
“Not Ron or any of the others?” she inquired. Harry thought for a moment. Of course he wanted Ron and everyone at Hogwarts to be safe. But he just couldn’t bear it if something happened to Hermione. He would probably wind up going mad and being put in St. Mungo’s to keep Gilderoy Lockhart company. It was absolutely certain; he couldn’t live without her.
“I can’t help every individual, Hermione,” he said. “And if anything happened to you . . . I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with Gilderoy Lockhart!”
“Lockhart?” she asked astounded. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
“Never mind,” he said. “It’s just, I couldn’t stand it if you died or got hurt. I would be empty and I’d go insane and that’s where Lockhart comes in. I’d be spending my evenings helping him sign pictures of himself that aren’t going to anyone because no one cares about him anymore! I can’t live like that, Hermione.” She looked at the floor and tried to stop herself from crying.
She couldn’t believe Harry was saying these things to her.
“I can’t,” he continued. “Why are you crying? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just—“ she waved her hand in front of her face to try and cool it off some. She couldn’t think of what to say.
“Sit down,” Harry said and moved her over to the bed. She obeyed and he sat beside her, placing a hand on her arm. “What?” She looked him in the eye.
“You’re so sweet, Harry,” she said. “All those things you said just now. It really meant a lot to me.”
“Really?” he said. “I thought I mentioned my insanity with Lockhart a little too much,” he added on a side note. She chuckled.
“Yeah, you did go off on that a bit,” she said. “But, the part about needing me; it’s just—sweet.”
“Well, It’s true,” he said and pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him. He was hot (temperature-wise) and smelled like sweat, but she didn’t mind. “Truth be told, I’m not really very brave,” he said and let her go.
“Of course you are,” she said. “You went on to get the Sorcerer’s Stone. You continued into the Chamber and killed a Basilisk. You saved yourself and Sirius from Dementors, and you won the Triwizard Tournament. You’ve battled a large group of Death Eaters and you’ve stolen a Horcrux. You are brave, Harry. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”
“But, I’m so scared that you’ll get hurt,” he said, not really meaning to.
“Harry, nothing will happen to me as long as you’re with me,” she said. Harry shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Because I spend time with you, you’re a target. The closer you get, the bigger the arrow is that will be thrown at you.”
“Harry,” she said looking him in the eye. “I’m choosing to stay close to you. I could just walk away from you any time I want, but I’m staying. You need me, you’ve already confessed that. If you need me, I’m staying.” He sighed.
“I guess you’re right,” he said.
“I’m always right,” she said and bent over to pick up the candle she dropped, which gave Harry a rather nice view of her backside. He shook his head to shove those thoughts out of his head. He’d just calmed down from earlier, and didn’t want to get worked up again. “Now, let’s forget about the bloody war for the rest of the day. It’s your birthday and we’re going to have fun.” She pulled the remaining seven candles out of the cake and handed him four. Oh, sod it all. His eyes automatically watched her tongue as it licked the chocolate off of the candle. Oh, bugger, he thought. He licked his own candles clean. Hermione picked up the knife and held it up to him. “Birthday boy cuts the cake.”
He smiled and took the knife. He cut out two equally sized slices and put one on each plate. They sat and ate for a while, Harry’s eyes focused on her the whole time. She had seen him, but didn’t let on. He watched as her tongue would lick the icing off her fork before cutting off another piece. One time she got some on her lip and he watched her lick it off—but she didn’t get it all. It was out of the reach of her tongue. Oh, god, how he wanted to lick it off of her mouth. Then he realized she was talking to him.
She looked at him sternly.
“Did you hear a word I just said?” she asked.
“Actually, no, I was distracted,” he said.
“By what?” she said. “You were looking at me the whole time.”
“You see, it’s just that you have the slightest bit of icing on your mouth,” he said. Her eyes went wide and she wiped at her face.
“Did I get it?” she asked. Harry shook his head.
“Here,” he said and motioned for her to come closer. She stood and walked over to him. He stood also. She held her breath as he reached a hand toward her. She seemed to get more nervous the closer his hand got to her face, and when he touched her skin, she gasped. His hands were rough, but gentle at the same time.
She closed her eyes as he wiped the icing away with his finger. When she opened them again, she saw his finger in his mouth as he sucked off the icing. He was staring right at her as he did so. She felt a tingling sensation run down her spine. She read slight confusion, contentment, and – was that lust?—in his eyes. She swallowed.
“Thank you,” she whispered. He didn’t reply. He was still staring at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say. There was only one phrase that kept repeating over and over in his head.
“I love you.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide. Had he said that out loud? Woops! He might as well run in front of a rampaging hippogriff.
“You—you what?” she said. Harry sighed. He couldn’t take back what he’d said. He knew she knew what had come out of his mouth.
“I—I love you,” he repeated. “More than you’ll ever know. Whether you’re researching ways to breathe under water, or reprimanding me for not doing homework, or falling out of windows, I will always love you.” She closed her eyes and tears started falling down her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he said and moved her to sit on the bed. She made a sort of choking noise, between a sob and a laugh.
“Harry,” she said and looked into his eyes. “These aren’t tears of sadness or pain. They’re tears of relief and joy.” She laughed again. “I love you, Harry Potter, and today you’ve answered my every wish that I’ve had since fourth year. You’ve told me you love me and no one asked you to or told you to, you just . . . said it for no apparent reason and I’m happier than any woman anywhere in the world at this moment.”
“You love me too?” he said, unable to believe his luck. She nodded.
“Very much so,” she said and wiped at her tears.
When her hand was at her eyes, Harry placed his hand over hers and caressed her cheek.
“Hermione,” he whispered. She felt his hot breath on her lips as they leaned in towards each other.
“Harry?” She’d barely gotten it out when his lips touched hers in a soft, sweet kiss. They closed their eyes and her hands wound their way around his neck and his hand that wasn’t holding her face went to her hip.
She pushed her tongue through his lips and felt a shiver go down her back when their tongues met. In one swift moment their kiss went from slow and tender to passionate and full of wonting. She slid her hand up under his shirt and felt his muscles tense under her skin.
Harry pushed her away for a moment for lack of oxygen. They were both panting and their lips were red and slightly swollen. Hermione smiled and he did the same. He started to chuckle.
“We’re moving a little too fast, don’t you think?” he said. Hermione licked her lips before answering.
“What makes you say that?”
“Hermione, we’ve just figured out that we love each other like two seconds ago and already we’re snogging the living daylights out of each other and it looks like we might be headed to something a little more involved,” he reasoned. “Maybe we shouldn’t go any further than snogging for a while.”
“Oh, well, when you put it like that,” she said, trailing off in thought. “That makes perfect sense. We’ll slow waaayyy down.”
“Ok,” he said and gave her a quick peck before standing up. A thought suddenly occurred to her.
“Oh, bloody—“ she cut herself off.
“What?” Harry asked. She looked up at him.
“I forgot to give you your present.”
“Well, where is it?”
She looked to the window.
“Oh, no, it’s not,” Harry said tryingly. Hermione made a face and nodded. They went over to the window and looked down where Hermione had fallen.
“It’s still down there. Maybe we can go get it,” she said hopefully. Then a dog came walking over and sniffed at it for a moment before picking it up and taking it away. Hermione groaned and slumped against the window frame. “That sucks butt.” Harry looked at her.
“Never heard that one before,” he commented. She slapped him lightly on the arm.
“Everyone’s entitled to their own phrases,” she said. “Like Ron and his ‘bloody hell’s.”
“And Moody and his ‘constant vigilance’ speech,” Harry said humorously. Hermione laughed.
“That too,” she said. “And my phrase is ‘that sucks butt’. Now, what do you say we finish this cake?”
He pulled her to him and held her close. “I’d rather do this.” And he kissed her. She laughed against his lips and let her fingers get lost in his hair. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around. She let out a yelp of surprise and laughter. “You know what? Screw going slow.”
Vernon looked at the ceiling.
“What in the blazes are they doing up there?” he growled. Petunia said nothing, but went up the stairs.
She opened Harry’s door to see Hermione up against the wall and Harry lifting her leg up to rest on his hip as they snogged each other senseless. She rolled her eyes and closed the door. When she reappeared at the foot of the stairs, Vernon looked up.
“They’re fine,” she said and shrugged. She’d remembered what that old man had said last year. In Harry’s world, he was an adult and therefore responsible for his own actions. “They’re having a birthday party.” And she entered the kitchen and set to work making dinner. Vernon thought a moment and returned to his paper.
Dudley seemed to be thinking as well. Birthday parties usually had cake. He wondered if they had any and if he’d be able to steal some. He pretended to be inconspicuous as he stood, stretched and yawned loudly. No one noticed. He headed up the stairs.
And saw more than his mother had. Now they were over on the bed and Hermione was yanking Harry’s shirt over his head. Dudley froze.
“Hey!” he shouted. Harry jumped about five feet in the air and landed next to Hermione on the bed shouting “Bloody hell, Dudley!” Dudley was frowning at Harry. Hermione had propped herself up on her elbows.
“What?” Hermione asked, a little irritated. Dudley looked at her.
“I th-thought. . .“ he trailed off.
“Did it hurt?” Harry asked. Hermione slapped his stomach. “Ow!”
“Be nice,” she said. “Dudley, is this anything life-threatening? Because I want to be alone with my boyfriend.” Harry looked at her. He’d never thought about the whole calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend thing. It hit him like a sack of potatoes in the stomach. Hermione was his girlfriend. He smiled.
Dudley spotted the cake on the desk.
“Can I have the rest of the cake?” he asked.
Hermione let out a loud “Urgh!” and flopped back onto the bed.
“Leave, Dudley, please,” she said. Dudley looked to Harry.
“Does your girlfriend know your little secret?” he asked, referring to the fact that Harry was a wizard.
“I have no secrets here,” Harry said. “But someone might.” He stared at Hermione in the eyes. She grinned and sat up.
“Dudley?” she said and Apparated to right in front of him. “Boo.” He jumped and yelled.
“You’re a—a—a—“ he stammered.
“A witch?” she suggested. “Now you know. Toodles!” And she shoved him out of the room and closed the door, locking it with a spell so none of the Dursleys could come in.
“No interruptions?” she said.
“Not one,” Harry responded and she almost literally collapsed on top of him and acted as though there had been exactly that. Not a single interruption.
Dudley stood outside the door dumbfounded. He was brought back to reality when he heard Hermione laugh from the other side of the door, followed by a loud crash and a squeal. He ran down the stairs and sat on the couch.
“What do you want with your steak tonight, Diddykins?” Petunia called from the kitchen. Dudley scrunched up his nose.
“Cake,” he muttered.
A/N: Well, I enjoyed that immensely! J I don’t know about you all, but I thought Dudley made it quite comical. And the whole Hermione-falling-out-of-the-window thing? That was so she could have the dirty clothes and be half naked when Harry came in. I saw it in a fanart on Portkey somewhere of a really good manip someone did. It’s the scene right when Harry opens the door to his room. . . . I just couldn’t think of a different way for her to get dirty than to land in the dirt. :P That just goes to show you my magnificent brilliance. Lol.
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