As she looked around the Great Hall, it occurred to Hermione with a kind of bitter disgust that end of term had a strange effect on students. It was a time of merry anticipation, relief that the term was done, that summer holidays were about to begin, that freedom from homework and exams was a hair's breadth away. It had a strange confundus effect on the students at Hogwarts. The Great Hall was an almost perversely normal cacophony of children's voices as they tucked in to their last dinner feast. Earlier that evening they'd bid farewell to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs, and it was as though with them departed the dark reality of late. The students at Hogwarts were letting themselves pretend nothing was wrong. They knew one of their own had died, that a great danger had returned to their lives, that nothing would be the same, but on the last evening they would be at Hogwarts students seem to be able to forget. It was consciously pushing the ugly from their minds as they talked with their friends. Everyone would go home tomorrow morning; there was no time to remember the unpleasant truths. They ignored it, even when it was sitting right in front of them.

It meant they made it a point to ignore Harry. He was a reminder, a signpost of the dangers that awaited them all, so they didn't look. Harry might as well have been under his invisibility cloak.

He was fine with that. He quietly ate his dinner as he sat sandwiched between Hermione and Ron. Ron was talking to Fred, George, and Ginny, who had taken seats near them at the same table to talk about their impending vacation to Romania. Even they were turning their backs on Voldemort. They were even falling into the same habit as everyone else of ignoring Harry. There had been a few awkward, stilted attempts, but they were so fake that Hermione fumed silently. Ginny had tried twice to convince Harry to change his mind about coming along with the Weasleys, and the twins had stated that Ron would be an insufferable prat all summer without Harry there to keep him in line, but after that they kind of just stopped seeing Harry. They were there with him but their gazes were deliberately fixed on each other, on Hermione beyond… somehow their eyes kept skipping over Harry.

Hermione sat close to Harry's left side. Possessively, protectively close. Where everyone else forgot to remember Harry, Hermione couldn't seem to help noticing every minute detail. She felt almost an obligation to fill the void so many ignoble so-called friends had left at his last feast of term.

Laughter and high-spirited voices swirled around their pocket of solemn silence.

Hermione held it against every last one of them for being duped. For being naïve, because this was serious, people were going to die, and they were all faking joviality. She wanted to scream at them, for them, make them understand and stop acting like it was just another year gone by. But it was everyone; only she and Harry seemed cognizant of the universe outside of the Great Hall.

Harry glanced at her occasionally over his plate of barely-touched food. Every time he did the look in his eyes made Hermione want to drag him away. Take him somewhere where the tense lines of his face would ease and his shoulders wouldn't slump.

Each time it made Hermione look up toward the windows forlornly. Until she got word from her parents, she couldn't take him anywhere. They'd have to go to Hogsmeade Station tomorrow to head home; Hermione didn't want to think that she might have to let Harry go to the Dursleys.

As though Hermione's longing and yearning had summoned her, Hedwig suddenly soared through an open window and into the Great Hall.

Hermione sat up abruptly and eagerly, her eyes locked on the snowy owl. Harry followed her gaze and watched Hedwig come to a hurried landing in front of Hermione's plate. He looked a little baffled when Hedwig did not bring the letter to him.

Hermione could have picked up the bird and hugged her. Had Hedwig not looked so thoroughly exhausted, she may have anyway. As it was, Hermione dove to take the muggle envelope from Hedwig's beak. "Thank you, Hedwig! I was starting to worry, I should have known you'd come through. Here," Hermione pushed the entirety of her remaining dinner toward the owl, and Hedwig began to gratefully gulp down slabs of roast beef and clumps of gravy-laden potatoes.

Hermione opened the letter and quickly read the contents.

Joy shot through her as she beamed and jumped to her feet without realizing she'd moved.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked at him and she wanted to whoop. Instead she grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him toward the hall.

"Hey, what's going on? Wait for me!" Ron's voice was a background twitter. Hermione didn't spare him a thought.

When she was out in the hall she dropped Harry's arm and spun to face him with a huge grin. He was watching her uncertainly. Ron staggered up at Harry's side, a mouthful of food still pouched in his right cheek.

Hermione looked down at the letter again, as though to make sure she hadn't imagined it in her ardent hope.

"Oo's 'at fum?" Ron asked around his mouthful.

"My Mum and Dad," Hermione replied then looked directly at Harry. He was growing wary in defense against the unknown.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "when you decided to go back to the Dursleys this summer I borrowed Hedwig and sent a letter to my parents. I asked if you could come home with me for the summer, and they said yes!"

Harry's expression went from confused to startled.

Ron swallowed, thumped Harry on the back, and barked, "Oiy! That's great! Right, Harry?"

Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "You sure?" he asked Hermione, his voice low and halting.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "I already cleared it with Dumbledore." When Harry continued to look uncertain, Hermione's smile fell. "You will come, won't you?" It hadn't occurred to her before then that he might decline.

Harry took in a slow breath and held it.

"Course he will," Ron said. "I mean, sure, won't be as much fun as the Burrow, I'm sure it'll be lots of books and you'll probably be made to do homework, but still, that's an improvement over the Dursleys, isn't it?"

Hermione was surprised when Ron's comment hurt. No, there wouldn't be wizard's chess or Quidditch or degnoming gardens at her house, but she'd never thought of it the way Ron did. Like it was a shoddy second to the Weasley home.

She looked hesitantly at Harry. What if he thought that, too? He was watching her closely, guardedly. Hermione felt her spirits take a nose-dive. She'd been so certain that once she convinced the headmaster and her parents that the battle would end there. She didn't think she might have to win Harry to the idea, too. The thought that she might have to tasted a lot like despair.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Harry's expression softened. His mouth hinted at a smile, his eyes grew warm, his posture eased. Hermione held her breath.

"I'd really like that," Harry answered softly.

Hermione squealed. Without thought, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Harry, surprised, chuckled and hugged her back. Hermione was finding herself one of the despicable pretenders, because Voldemort wasn't on her mind right then.

It seemed a protracted minute before Hermione let Harry go and stepped back. He was smiling at her. He looked leagues better than just ten minutes ago when he'd been doomed to the Dursleys. A strange light glimmered in his eyes, and it was obviously relief and appreciation but also something else, a mysterious addition Hermione honestly couldn't place.

Ron was looking queerly between Harry and Hermione.

Hermione clutched the letter like someone would snatch it, and its promise, from her hands. Now she couldn't wait for morning.

❾¾ ❾¾❾¾

Children with trolleys and waving parents packed the platform at King's Cross Train Station. So well timed and carefully observed were the emergences of kids with suitcases from the stone wall between platforms nine and ten that often it seemed children just appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly there would be four or five more kids pushing their belongings around than had been there moments before, but no one thought a great deal of it. It was easy to not notice where children came from, nor to where they disappeared. They were to be tolerated, chided when they got in the way, but otherwise left to their parents. Most had no time or business to bother with the young.

Miranda Granger was scanning the faces that seemed to simply appear around platforms nine and ten. Her husband at her side kept watch, too, for their returning daughter.

"Oh, Jake, there she is," Miranda said with a touch on her husband's arm. Jake turned and immediately found his daughter in the crowd. It was hard to miss that mess of hair. This time, however, another blinding beacon was the huge grin on her face as the girl made her way through the throng of passengers toward her parents. She seemed to detach from a gathering of redheads as she waded through the crowd. Jake couldn't help but smile at the sight of his daughter. He hadn't seen her look that happy in a long time.

As she neared, her trolley weighed down with her trunk and the cat-carrier, Jake let his attention move to the boy following after Hermione.

So that would be Harry. Jake knew only a little of him; Hermione really spoke with her mother more about the friends she had at school than to him. Jake knew that Harry was one of Hermione's best friends, and that he was some manner of celebrity in the world of magic, but more than that he really knew nothing.

As the two kids drew nearer, Jake gave the boy an appraising look (that is, once his attention could be pried from the caged, eye-catching snow-white owl atop the boy's trunk). He looked normal enough. Maybe a little skinnier than Jake would expect from a child celebrity. Definitely with wilder hair than he thought a public persona would have tolerated. He didn't really radiate that flaunting air of entitlement Jake had honestly expected, either. If this kid was a star, he'd have thought the boy would have quite a big head about it. He'd envisioned a strut at the very least. But the kid was following Hermione quietly, demurely, almost reticently. Shy seemed more the right word than arrogant.

Jake wished he'd paid more attention when Hermione talked about her friends, to have a better idea what strings would follow this boy to their house.

Hermione stopped before her parents, rounded her trolley, and rushed to Miranda and gave her a hug.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Miranda returned Hermione's embrace.

Hermione disentangled to engulf Jake similarly. For the time being, Jake let drop his curiosity about this Harry Potter fellow. He hadn't seen his girl in months.

"Gracious, Hermione!" Jake stepped back and put his hands on his daughter's shoulders, holding her at arm's length. He goggled. "Miranda," he glanced at his wife. "What on earth happened to the girl we sent to school at start of term?"

Hermione's brow crinkled adorably as she silently questioned his words.

Miranda smirked teasingly. "I don't know, dear. Maybe we should speak with the station master and find out who this woman is they brought back to us."

Hermione blushed and playfully slapped her father's hands away. "Oh, really, you two." Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture from her earliest days. She cleared her throat and turned to the boy who'd accompanied her. "Harry, these are my parents, Miranda and Jake Granger. Mum, Dad, Harry Potter."

Jake turned his eyes again to Harry. In the guise of formal introduction, he took a moment to more closely study the boy.

He was thin, but Jake thought a great deal of that might be the effect from his clothes. They were tatty and much too large for the boy's frame. What struck Jake, though, were his eyes. When Harry looked up at Jake they met each other's eyes, and it wasn't the gaze of a child. There was sadness there, sober reserve, steady intensity that didn't have anything to do with glee to be off for summer holidays. For a second, Jake thought he was facing someone far older than fourteen.

"Hello," Harry said.

Miranda was on the ball while Jake was watching. "Hello, Harry. It's wonderful to finally meet you. Hermione talks about you all the time."

"Mum."

"Oh, please, Hermione, you do." Miranda smiled kindly at Harry. "So I understand you'll be staying with us this summer?"

Harry paused for a split second, his gaze shot pointedly to Jake, then the flash point passed and he nodded at Miranda. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, if that's all right."

"Of course it is. Frankly, we were only too happy to have you over. We've never seen our Hermione so excited about having a friend come to the house before; how could we say no?" Miranda ran an errant hand over Hermione's bushy hair, so casual and maternal a gesture, and something in Harry's face twinged. "Now, I expect we'll just need to sort the details out with your aunt and uncle, is it?"

Jake watched a dramatic shift take place. Hermione's expression suddenly became worried and grave. She looked quickly and intently at Harry. The boy looked back at Hermione, his face tense. Jake frowned.

"Why don't you let me speak to them," Jake volunteered. Harry's eyes turned up slowly to Jake and the boy seemed to measure Jake. It was disconcerting. He'd never been measured like that by a child. By other adults, but not a boy.

"Sounds good," Miranda said. "Come along, Hermione, we'll take your and Harry's things to the car while the boys tend to the arrangements with Harry's family."

Hermione balked a moment. She clearly didn't want to part from Harry, didn't want to leave him alone to this task. Jake couldn't understand why, but he was fairly sure he didn't like what it suggested.

The girls left, both pushing the trolleys, and Harry stood looking up at Jake. Again he was taken aback by the distance in his stare. 'And I always thought Hermione was serious,' Jake thought.

"Well then, where are your aunt and uncle?"

Harry sighed and looked around the train station. He stopped, scowled, and gave a half-nod. "That's them."

Jake turned and saw the large, mustachioed man standing beside a thin, severe looking woman. They were perhaps the grumpiest faces amid the several happy reunions. The two were watching Harry with a seething, spiteful glower that gave Jake pause. Things went from tense to tenser.

"Right then, come on."

Harry led Jake toward the couple without making a sound. His shoulders were tight, rigid and uncomfortable to look at, right to the moment he stopped before the scowling pair and said, "Hullo."

The man narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Well, boy, what have you done with your things? I don't want to be all day waiting on you."

Jake stepped in automatically. "Hello, I'm Jake Granger. You must be Harry's aunt and uncle."

The fat man sniffed, eyed Jake's extended hand suspiciously, then shook it. "Vernon Dursley." He ticked his head toward his wife. "Petunia."

Jake smiled. "Pleasure."

Vernon stared blankly at Jake. "Was there something you wanted, mister?"

Jake had to exert effort to keep smiling. "Oh, well, seems our children here conspired against us." To keep the mood light, Jake laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry stiffened. Jake, a little thrown, immediately removed his hand. "You see, my daughter is a friend of Harry's from school."

Vernon and Petunia drew back.

"And a few days ago we got a letter from Hermione, that's our daughter, asking if Harry here could stay the summer with us. Naturally, we'd be delighted to have him over. If that's all right with you, of course."

Vernon did not answer for a long while. He looked between Jake and Harry with a loathsome sneer.

It was Petunia who finally broke the silence. "Oh, let him go, Vernon. Will spare us having to put up with him."

Vernon grunted. "Fine, take him." He snorted then looked snidely at Jake. "Guess if your daughter's one of them too you won't mind this freak underfoot."

Jake's smile dropped completely.

Harry was so tense it was a wonder he wasn't shaking.

"Oh!" Petunia gasped.

All eyes followed hers to the baggy legs of Harry's pants. A Chihuahua was pawing demandingly at Harry's leg. When all attention was on it, the dog stopped and stared up at Harry.

"Good bye, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," and with that Harry turned and stalked off. The dog bounded after him, keeping close to his side.

"Good day," Jake said without a trace of a smile. He turned and moved after Harry.

Jake caught up with Harry outside the train station. He was standing to the side of the entrance, leaning against the façade with his hands in his pockets and the Chihuahua lying at his feet.

Jake approached the boy. "Harry?"

Harry looked sideways at him. He frowned, scuffed the pavement with the toe of his worn and ratty trainer, then said, "I'm sorry about them."

"Your aunt and uncle?"

Harry nodded.

Jake couldn't pretend he didn't know why Harry was apologizing.

"Well, we can't choose our relatives, can we?" Jake tried to brush off the encounter lightly.

"No." After a moment Harry pushed off the wall and turned to squarely face Jake. Again, that flare of something far beyond a boy in his bespectacled blue eyes.

"Mister Granger…" he stopped, considered, then continued. "Did Hermione tell you I'm dangerous?"

Jake blinked.

Harry was unfazed. He watched Jake intently.

Jake lowered his voice. "What do you mean by 'dangerous'?"

Harry's stony stance faltered as a grief, a pain very childlike, rocked his frame. He briefly looked away then back. "I mean there are very dangerous people who want me dead. I can't come back to your home with you until you understand that. If you don't want me there, I understand."

Jake couldn't believe what he was hearing. The kid was serious, unwavering, and Jake was shocked by that. Why on earth would anyone want to kill a child, this boy?

"Well…" Jake hesitated. "I appreciate your candor, Harry." Jake turned his eyes from Harry, looked out over the parking lot, and caught sight of Hermione and Miranda wrestling the trunks and pet-carriers into the back of the car. He watched his daughter and remembered her letter, her impassioned words. He'd never felt that kind of fire in his daughter outside of schoolwork. It was a kind of zest and zeal for the world outside of academia he'd always longed to see Hermione experience. It was impossible to snuff.

Jake looked back at Harry. The boy was waiting, not even nervously, almost in resignation. As though he was certain he'd be sent away, like it was the only reasonable thing to be done. And Jake wondered, if he expected to be turned away, where did he expect to go? He'd already bid his aunt and uncle good bye. He didn't look like he was the type to go crawling back for a place to stay after the way he'd stormed off. And he didn't look concerned about it, either.

And even though this was a boy, merely fourteen and couldn't possibly have enemies like he said he did, Jake found he believed him enough about this 'danger' to take him seriously.