Chapter Three: End of December
Minerva McGonagall was a very busy witch. As Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress, she wore a lot of hats, and tried her best to do justice to each. Good scheduling and the support of the other professors was key. She was fortunate to have both of those, but every once in a while she felt a bit overwhelmed.
On this, the ides of December, she'd been hit with a heap of tasks that all landed on her desk at roughly the same time. It was the day that the lists of those staying over were finalized, mostly. She was somewhat surprised that Percy Wesley wasn't staying. Then again, he had a lot to arrange. McGonagall jotted down a note to talk to Flitwick about possible prefect changes. She hadn't decided yet if she should replace Mr. Weasley, but Miss Clearwater would at the very least need to be supplemented over in Ravenclaw, as her condition developed.
There was also an official challenge of grading that had arrived. Every year there was some challenge to Snape's grading from one or more of her Gryffindors. It was tradition, and she was required to review them and forward to the Board of Governors. She didn't expect that this one would go any further than the last six. Malfoy and his allies would be sure to stop it. McGonagall was surprised that it was from the First Years, though.
She had the First Year essays of the week, for years scheduled to arrive on this day, because usually the First Year essays were easier to grade than any other year. This year was different though. Over the last month, the quality of work turned in by her Gryffindors had risen by leaps and bounds. McGonagall was pleased with this, and was glad to hear that it was an universal improvement for her First Years' essays, no matter what the class. Severus had even commented on it.
Of course, McGonagall had not been prepared for footnoted essays from first years.
The task that was taking up the most time at the moment, though was her communications with Child Protective Services in Surrey. As Deputy Headmistress, she was well aware of the procedures for when a child away at boarding school was discovered to be abused, and the school in question was out of direct travel. McGonagall was giving up her Christmas holiday for Harry. It was not the first time she'd done so, nor was she the only professor giving up a holiday in order to square things away with Child Protective Services.
Severus was dealing with one of his snakes in her third year who had been not only physically abused but sexually abused. It was the first time Severus had a student who lived in the muggle world that he'd discovered was abused. She'd had to help him with that case, just like Flitwick had the first time she'd discovered one of her lions that way. Professor Spout didn't have a case this year, but last year she'd had three, two magical. McGonagall was of the opinion that muggles handled child abuse a lot better than the magical world did, especially when it involve a noble pureblood.
This would be the first time in over a decade that she was going to ride the Express for Christmas Vacation. Harry would be coming with her. She'd arranged for a couple rooms in a small bed and breakfast in Kingston upon Thames, as it was close to the local Child Protective Services office. Severus had also gotten rooms there for himself and his charge, though his charge actually lived in Hounslow. She was going to sit in on Severus's first meeting with CPS.
There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in, Harry." McGonagall wasn't sure when she started it, but lately she had developed the habit of calling all of her first years by their first names outside of class. She'd never done it before, she generally was quite formal with students as befitted the school disciplinarian role that she often filled, but for some reason she felt a lot closer to this year's batch of lions. Harry Potter entered her office, as she put the paper work to the side. "What can I do for you today?"
"You said we're going to Surrey for Christmas, and I'm," Harry trailed off.
McGonagall smiled, and move around from behind her desk. She guided Harry over to a pair of comfortable chairs, as she responded. "Worried about what is going to happen?" Harry nodded. "Don't be. I will be there with you, and you will not be staying with the Dursleys. In fact I doubt you will see your Aunt and Uncle again."
"Where will I stay?" Harry asked, his gaze down at his feet. McGonagall could tell that he was very nervous. Like any good teacher, she'd quickly picked up the signs, both general and specific to the particular student.
McGonagall was sure that Hermione had sent Harry her way. "Over the Christmas Holidays, you will be staying with me, as well as Professor Snape and one of his students, in a bed and breakfast in Kingston upon Thames. The owner is a friend of Professor Spouts, and she tells me that the place should be prefect for a holiday away from Hogwarts."
"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, suddenly looking up at McGonagall, before dropping his gaze back down to his feet. "He hates me."
McGonagall scooted her chair closer. "Harry, I don't think Professor Snape personally hates you. He doesn't really know you. I'm not privy to his feelings, though I have some idea why he may be harsher on you than other Gryffindors. I will talk to him about it, though."
"Okay," Harry said, his eyes still focused on the floor.
"Now, I'm sure that you have some other thoughts troubling you," McGonagall said with a smile. "Otherwise, Hermione wouldn't have sent you here."
Harry looked back up at McGonagall with an open mouthed expression of surprise. "How did you know?"
"Nine times out of ten, if one of your fellow first years in my house comes to my office, it is because Hermione Granger told them to," McGonagall said. "The other time, it is Hermione. In your case, I do not see you availing yourself of your professors much, unless it is at Hermione's prompting. Now what else is troubling you."
Harry looked down at his feet again. "You know how we're trying to help each other with classes?" McGonagall nodded. "Well, none of us are good at Potions, and I kind of, well, need someone to help."
"I see, and Professor Snape hates you," McGonagall said. She considered her lions. She did not know of any one of them who really like Potions. Percy Weasley had done okay, but he had other things to worry about. His twin brothers were good, but their influence was not something she wanted to really encourage with her First Years. An idea formed. "I believe I can arrange a tutor for you and your fellow First Year Gryffindors. It might allow us to assess the challenge recently submitted. Now, is there any thing else?"
"Well, Hermione is already on baby names, and asked if I had any family names," Harry said, looking up at McGonagall. "And I kind of mumbled that I didn't even know my father's middle name. I don't know anything about Mum and Dad really. So I kind of thought that since you were their head of house, too, you might be able to tell me about them?"
McGonagall summoned a side table, and ordered milk and biscuits. She spent the next hour telling Harry about his parents. It left her further behind than she had been, but it was the best hour she'd had all week.
"Next door down from the Headmaster's gargoyle," Hermione read, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. This time, however, she stopped at the door. "This is it."
"Did Percy say who McGonagall had gotten to tutor us, Ron?" Harry asked, as Hermione paused to let the rest of the First Year Gryffindors catch up.
"No, I don't think he knows," Ron replied. "Neville! Who was it you said it would be?"
"Professor Sprout," Neville said. "She's just short of getting her Potion's Mastery to go along with her Herbology and Charms Masteries."
"No, it's got to be Madame Pomfrey," Seamus asserted.
"No, Percy said that he would meet us, so that leaves those out," Parvati said. "It has to be Professor Quarrel."
"I hope not, I always get headaches in his class," Harry said. "Everyone ready?" Harry looked at each of them, and received an answering nod. "Then, forward." He pushed open the door.
Behind the door was a medium size potions lab. There were seven marble topped tables, five of which had a pair of student's potions stations set up on them. It was obvious that they wouldn't be taking out their own cauldron sets. Their battered sets, especially Ron's, would not look right next to the sparkling clean sets. There were some ingredients set out next to each station, but not the same ones at each station. On the table up front there was a single station, arrayed with everything that the others were, and more. Of to the side was a very long, very comfortable couch, and a single high backed fleece covered chair. It's occupant's pointed wizard cap could be seen over the top.
"Come, sit down, we have a little bit to discuss before we go into the practical portion of tonight's study session." The voice was soft, and obviously male. A bit hoarse, too, so Harry couldn't quite identify it. When he finally got around so he could see the Professor, he nearly tripped. "Careful, Mr. Potter, Harry." Harry recovered and took a seat at the center of the couch. Hermione sat down next to him. "Yes, I think we will go for the less formal address, while I am tutoring you. It seems to be working for Minerva."
"How shall we address you, Headmaster, sir?" Hermione asked. Her arm was around Harry's back. He'd grown used to that. It felt right.
"I think Professor will do," Dumbledore said. "Albus is a tad too familiar given our ages, and to tell the truth, I never really liked most of my middle names. Save Percival. My Potion's Mastery is under Percival Dumbledore. So, if any one were to ask, tell them your tutor is Mr. Percival. It should sow a bit of confusion, which I think is necessary in this case. Now, before we begin, as a good tutor, I have spoken with Professor Snape about your strengths and weaknesses. He is not, however, aware that I have taken up tutoring students. Neville, I understand that you are very good at plant ingredient preparation, however you find some issues with timing, as well as are somewhat easily intimidated by Professor Snape."
"Yes, sir," Neville said. "I get nervous, especially when the potion is really boiling."
"We shall work on that," Dumbledore said. "Lavender, Professor Snape tells me that you have a real knack for powders in potions, but are not always cognizant of your stirring pattern. Ron, your only real problem is that you overheat your potions. Harry, while most of your ingredient preparation is good, your definition of thinly sliced is a tad to thick. Hermione, your main issue is your pregnancy, and a bit too much exactness.
"Potions, is art form. As Professor Snape said on the first day of class, assuming he has not changed his speech, you can indeed learn how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. Unfortunately, we won't be doing that today. I have chosen a particular potion that has several different variants. It has no real practical use, but does have a rather interesting effect on felines. I do advise that you do not use it on Professor McGonagall."
"Why?" Hermione said.
"For some reason, Minerva objected to the particular tartan in her hairball. Now, if you will move to the tables with your names on them, we'll begin with ingredient preparation."
Professor McGonagall had walked Harry and Hermione down early for the ride home for Christmas on the Hogwarts Express. Only Ron and Sally-Anne would not be going home for Christmas. Harry wasn't really going home, though. Not that he considered Number Four much of a home. No, Harry was going to meet with Child Protective Services, and he hoped that it would mean that he would never see a Dursley again.
So he sat in the compartment that Professor McGonagall had left him in, Hermione seated at his side. She was leaning up against him, a book in her lap. For the first time, he let his own arm go around her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled. The smile made Harry feel warm. It wasn't a long look, but it left him feeling like he could do anything.
As Hermione turned back to reading her book, Harry took a look at her. Her feet were currently bare, though a pair of shoes and socks lay on the floor of the compartment, ready to be put back on. Since you didn't have to wear your uniform on the Express, she'd pulled out a scarlet skirt, and a white jumper worn over a pale yellow shirt. Harry was dressed in Dudley hand-me-downs, a flannel shirt that Dudley had worn maybe once, open at the moment to reveal his t-shirt, and a recently resized pair of Dudley's jeans. They were the good brand, in Harry's possession from the start, because his Aunt thought that Dudley couldn't possibly be wearing the hefty cut. He knew that he looked like a bum compared to Hermione, but she didn't care.
Just as he felt the jolt of the carriage beginning to move, the door to their compartment opened. Standing there was Draco Malfoy. "So, Potter, you're going home to face the mudblood's parents. Your parents would be ashamed of you, if they were still alive."
Harry blew out a breath of frustrated anger, as he tried to come up with a response. He was saved from doing so by a most unlikely interruption.
"Whereas your parents, Mr. Malfoy, will be no doubt be ashamed of you given your sudden lack of the ability to read," Professor Snape said from the door. "Or did you think that do not disturb did not apply to you?"
"Severus, perhaps I should take Mr. Malfoy to another carriage, while you get Miss Price situated?" a second very familiar professor's voice came from just out of Harry and Hermione's view. It surprised neither of them when Professor McGonagall stepped into view, placing her hand on Malfoy's shoulder.
"Actually, I think I need to have long overdue talk with Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said. "If you will take care of Victoria?"
Harry found it unusual that Snape would use a student's first name. He already knew how rare it was that McGonagall had started using all her first year's first names, but she'd at least used them before, with the Weasley Twins. It was simply amazing how she could growl out Fred and George. Snape though, he'd never heard Snape using anyone's first name alone. Maybe it was a head of house thing.
Snape clamped down on Draco's other shoulder, to the point that Draco actually winced. He pulled Draco back out into the hallway, and past Professor McGonagall, revealing Victoria. She looked to be in her third year with blond hair, cut to just a little below her chin. From the books that Hermione had made him read, Harry figured that she was probably in her fifth or sixth month of pregnancy.
The girl waddled in, sitting down carefully as Professor McGonagall levitated her trunk up into the rack. "There. Miss Price, these are two of my first years, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Miss Granger is entering her seventh week, I believe. Do you need anything before I go talk to the Prefects?" McGonagall said. The girl shook her head.
"Professor, about the do not disturb sign?" Hermione spoke up as McGonagall started to turn away. "We kind of hoped that some of our friends would stop by."
"Do not worry, Hermione, it specifically says that your friends are allowed, by name," McGonagall said, turning back towards Hermione. "They are sharing the next compartment down. You can also expect a visit from two of the prefects, Weasley and Clearwater." As McGonagall exited the room, Harry could just barely hear her note, "not that she'll be Clearwater long."
For a bit after the door slid shut, the compartment was silent. Not an oppressive silence, just one waiting for someone to break it. "Does anyone actually think that Percy Weasley isn't going to marry Penelope Clearwater?" Victoria said, breaking the silence.
"After Ron walked in on them in Percy's Fifth Year Boys dorm room, no," Harry replied. "At least they were still dressed that time."
"Only Professor McGonagall seems to end up walking in on them undressed," Hermione said. "Of course, they've been a lot more subdued during the last couple weeks."
"That might be because Clearwater is late," Victoria said. "I'd warn your dorm mates about Ron, as rumor has it that Weasley's can't be stopped by any method of protection."
"Harry will protect me," Hermione said, pulling Harry closer, as the door slid open.
"Harry will protect you from what?" It was Dean Thomas, who had disposed of the button down jumper that he'd been wearing, revealing that he'd picked up a Puddlemore United shirt.
"Apparently we need to make sure Ron doesn't breathe on any of the girls," Harry replied. He smiled as he continued. "It seems that Weasleys can get through any protection. I might have to warn our chasers about our beaters too."
Dean was followed into the compartment by Parvati. "Warn the chasers, if I remember the ritual right, Harry's the only one you'll have luck with."
Suddenly Hermione had a big grin. Harry knew that Hermione had studied every bit she could about the ritual, as well as the charms on her collar. "I know that look, Hermione. Spill."
"Well, there is this other charm that is sometimes cast on concubines," Hermione began. Her grin seemed to grow in between words. "If you cast it, any male who tries to take me without your permission will find himself, temporarily ... well female. The time increases based on contact time. The first time, it's the time the male was in physical contact with the female, but there after it's the sum of the two previous times. It was developed by Leonardo of Pisa in 1201..."
"I don't want to think about that, Hermoine," Dean said, his hand down, covering his crotch. "Sometime you're bloody scary."
"You and Ron keep saying that," Hermione began.
"Cause it's true, and you know it," Dean shot back. "Anyway, you know what happened to Malfoy? We saw Professor Snape go by, practically pulling him by his ear."
"Professor Snape caught him stopping by to insult Hermione," Harry replied. He smiled as the image of Draco being directed by Snape's hand on his ear came to mind. "Too bad we won't get to be a fly on the wall on that talk."
"Yes, it would be grand to see Professor Snape put that little boy in place," Victoria mused. "Mum told me that I should be nice to Malfoy, but he's an arrogant little boy, who thinks that as a first year he has a right to rule Slytherin."
"And you've got to share a house with him," Parvati said. Harry noticed that she appeared to be looking rather closely at Victoria's clothes. "My condolences. You know, silver is not for you. I'd suggest going for more of a deep green if you're going for house colors."
"Oh no, Harry, shall I send for reinforcements?" Dean said. "She's on the fashion kick again."
"Lavender isn't here, it won't be that bad," Harry said. Harry had spent a good half hour suffering through Parvati and Lavender's suggestions on improving his wardrobe one evening that had spread to the rest of his dorm.
"Did someone say my name?" Lavender was at the door.
"Neville, get Neville," Harry ordered. "He's the best dressed of us ..."
"Got it," Dean said, turning to exit the compartment. Harry hoped they stuck to Victoria. The last time, he'd ended up having his underwear completely re-dyed red.
Harry smiled though, as Lavender joined Parvati next to Victoria. With Hermione still curled up next to him, he could survive it a bit.
Hermoine Granger stood before her dresser, making sure that she had put on her make up right. She had never really been allowed to wear make up before, but tonight she was going to join her parents at the local Dental Association Christmas Party for the first time. It was a good thing she'd paid attention, without letting Lavender know she was paying attention, to Lavender's make up tips that the girl spouted as she got ready for class every morning.
Hermione's first day home for Christmas had been a whirlwind. As soon as she'd met her parents coming off the Hogwarts Express, they'd immediately dragged her off to get new clothes. Her inch increase in waist was easily explained away as "good Hogwarts food," not that it needed to be. As for her breasts, her need for a real bra instead of a training bra was the subject of much discussion, mostly on the topic of how she needed to remember to wear it every day. Hermione much preferred the charm Sally-Anne had discovered to the bra which was a bit uncomfortable on her tender breasts.
Her mother had braided Hermione's hair, coiling the braids around her head. Some of her hair had escaped from the braids though, but that was okay. She'd never had her hair up that way before, and thought it was a bit more grown up than she was used to. The elegant sapphire and ivory dress she wore made her feel like a princess. She was glad that Harry had charmed her collar to invisibility for the break, because the simple cloth would have ruined the look. Not that Hermione was vain. This was her first real adult party that she was being allowed to attend though.
There were just two days before Christmas, and there were two more parties scheduled. Her parents hadn't said that she would be attending those too, but she now had three good dresses that she hadn't had before. She also had six new bras, two new pairs of jeans, new trainers, heels to match her dresses, and a bronze cashmere jumper that she'd never thought that her mother would ever buy for her.
With one last look, she turned away from the mirror and picked her handbag off her bed. She was going to have to get rid of her princess quilt. With one last look at her room, she stepped out of it, turning the light off as she did so.
Hermione paused at the top of the stairs. Even knowing that she was going to be a mother by July, she'd never really felt even a bit grown up, but tonight at the top of the stairs, about to descend to where her parents were waiting, she felt the small thrill of being considered for once not the object of child minding, but actually going out to the party.
As her heeled shoe hit the hard wood floor of the entryway hall, her father spoke for the first time. "About time, Hermione. Now we just have to get ..." His voice trained off, as he looked at Hermione in her dress for the first time. He seemed to be very surprised to Hermione. "When did my little girl grow up?" The reply was soft, almost breathless, not intended for Hermione's ears, or anyone's really, but it made Hermione blush. She'd known that she was not a little girl any more, but somehow her own father saying so made it more real. Going to school at a magical boarding school made that important somehow. "Hurry up, Wendy, Hermione and I are waiting."
"Keep your trousers on, Monty!" Hermione's mother replied from upstairs. It wasn't long before she glided down the stairs, her gold and ivory dress just touching the stair behind her. "You look beautiful, Hermione. I'm afraid that you'll have all the boys after you."
Hermione thought her blush had to be permanent now. "I'm not that pretty. I'm just a bushy-haired bookworm."
"Now, now Hermione, none of that," her mother said, as her father opened the door for them. "You look radiant, almost glowing, really."
Hermione had heard that line before, usually from Madame Pomfrey after her check up. She hoped her mother didn't connect it with pregnancy. As they approached the car, she was glad she'd asked Madame Pomfrey for some potions to keep her morning sickness under control over the holidays. Her father helped first her, then her mother into the back seat of the Bentley Mulsanne that was only a bit younger than she was. Her father had bought it used when she was seven. The green reminded her of Harry's eyes.
Hermione buckled herself in, and looked over at her mum. She'd never really explained why she always sat in the back seat. No one in the family ever sat in the front passenger seat. As her father backed out of the driveway and out into the street. Hermione actually missed riding in the old Vauxhall Cavalier that had been her mum's. When you rode in the back, you could feel the bump when it bounced as they turned left onto High Street. The old Cavalier was her mum's, and had been paid off as a wedding present. It currently was behind the garage, waiting for the day that Hermione was ready to learn how to drive. Her mum had replaced it for daily use with the sixth of the 1988 Vauxhall Cavaliers off the line. Mum was loyal to Vauxhall, her father having worked at their Luton plant before he retired.
Hermione wondered if her mother would get her a Vauxhall t-shirt. As a Gryffindor it would be appropriate for her to wear at Hogwarts, though she doubted many of her classmates would realize what it was. The Bentley came to a stop in front of the estate house that was playing host to the night's party. Her father came around and helped her out. Hermione wasn't quite used to the heels that her mother had gotten her, and her father knew that. With Hermione on his left, and mum on his right, he guided them both into the front entrance.
"Montague, Wendy, and who is this delectable young lady at your side?" the host said. "Welcome to the Estate." He took Hermione's free hand, and kissed it. Hermione giggled.
"My twelve year old daughter, Hermione," Hermione's father said. "Hermione, this reprobate is Thomas Eagleton, we went to dental school together."
Hermione withdrew her hand. "I'm not sure I should trust your hand, then."
"You've been telling tales," Eagleton replied. "I suppose you told her my old nickname too." Hermione grinned. She had heard tales about Sparky. "I should withdraw from covering you next week, but I wouldn't want to disappoint the young lady. Wendy, Barbara is in the conservatory. Come, Montague, Capulet awaits us in the salon."
As he sat at the breakfast table at the bed and breakfast, Harry thought that Ron would never believe that he was actually listening to Snape, Professor Snape as Hermione would insist. Of course, Harry had not been looking forward to staying with Professor Snape when he'd been informed that the Potions Professor was going to be staying at the same place. Harry took another bite of a blueberry scone and smiled.
"Of course, Lily was at the top of her class," Snape said. "Though Minerva won't admit it, Lily Evans was actually better at Potions than Transfiguration. Not that she wasn't good at it."
"She was certainly top of her class in both, Charms too," Minerva interjected.
"She had this way of concentrating," Snape continued. Harry listened, fascinated. "You knew when she was thinking, her head would tilt slightly to the right, and a strand of her hair always found it's way into her mouth." Harry had never seen that expression on Snape. Snape had always been a stern sarcastic man, but this morning there was actually a smile on his face that wasn't an evil one.
Taking another bite, then a sip of orange juice, Harry sat back and listened. Before this morning he had no idea that Snape had been one of his mother's best friends, and even grown up in the same town. Just a simple statement that he had wished he'd known his mother, and now he was finding it all out.
Hermione put the gift that Hedwig had just delivered under the tree. She knew it was a book, but by her parent's tradition and rules, she would not find out until Christmas Morning, which book. She would get to open one gift from each parent, but not any others, on Christmas Eve before they headed to Midnight Mass.
"Hermione?" the soft call of her mother broke into her contemplation of what book Harry might have gotten her. "Can we talk?" Hermione looked up and found her mother standing by the door with two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. One of them had two large marshmallows in it, and the other a bunch of small ones.
"For hot chocolate, I'll talk about anything," Hermione said, standing up straight. "You know you can't get it at Hogwarts, or at least I've never been able to get it." She took her hot chocolate, the one with the two large marshmallows, from her mother. "Most of the time we have pumpkin juice. It's really sweet, though." They sat down on opposite ends of the sofa.
After a sip of the hot drink, Hermione's mother began. "You know, Professor McGonagall told us about your bond with Mr. Potter."
"Harry," Hermione corrected, automatically. Her mind was already running a mile a minute. She was going to have to tell her mother now. She wasn't ready!
"Harry," her mother accepted. "Your professor says it is an affinity for each other, likely for life, and aside from some traditional acknowledgments, you are unlikely to be impeded by it. I'm not so sure I agree. Especially since it includes a collar, though I note that I haven't seen one on you."
"I asked Harry to make it invisible for the holidays," Hermione said, her right hand going up to feel where it went around her neck. She'd grown used to it, and had actually missed seeing it when she had gotten dressed in the morning.
"What does it look like?" her mother asked.
"White, with Harry James Potter written on it," Hermione said, feeling the invisible cloth. "Parvati says the name always is fully visible to the observer, but I haven't verified that."
"Your professor says that despite the bond, you are not active, nor will the bond require you to do so," Hermoine's mother said, before taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "Is this true?"
Hermione blushed. "Mum! I can barely get Harry to hug me. If I don't do it right, he flinches and pulls away. Anyway, I'm not going to do that with him." Of course, now that her mother had brought the idea up, she was thinking about it. She pushed the image down. "Harry won't do anything." Silently she added to herself, yet.
"That's good to hear. Now, I think we need to talk about Harry. Professor McGonagall has approached us about possibly fostering him over the summer. There is apparently some issue with his Aunt and Uncle."
Hermione took a deep breath before she started to respond. This was not going to be easy. She wanted to create a good impression of Harry. He was, after all, going to be the father of her mother's first grandchild, not that she was going to start with that. That was the problem, where to start.
"Start at the beginning, Hermione."
Sometimes Hermione thought her mum could read her mind, which was really worrying sometimes. She did not want to tell her mother everything.
"I met him on the Express. He was dressed in this ratty flannel over a grayed T-shirt. I don't think he has a really nice outfit. He was sitting with Ron Weasley, and had no idea how he was seen in the Wizarding World."
"How is he seen?"
"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, the only person to have ever survived the Killing Curse. As a toddler he was credited as killing a Dark Lord who everyone is afraid to name when his parents were killed. No one is quite sure how it happened, and Harry doesn't remember it, really. So he had no idea why he was seen as, to quote Professor Snape, 'our new celebrity.'
"I don't think Harry likes it. I think he objects to praise that he doesn't earn. I know he has no problem with compliments about playing Seeker in Quidditch, and once I got him to study, being told that he was the number two First Year had him smiling. Apparently his mother had been top in her year all through Hogwarts."
"I take it that you're still number one?" her mum asked.
"Of course ... though Harry is making me work for it, especially since we started the house first year study group. He's really good at the practicums."
"What do you know about his home situation?"
"It's bad, really bad. I don't think I know it all, yet. Professor McGonagall has him meeting Child Protective Services over the holidays. He grew up with his aunt and uncle. His uncle apparently beat him, and he was forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs until he got his Hogwarts letter. He hasn't said much about his aunt, I get the impression that she's not nice to him, but in comparison to the rest, she's an oasis. His cousin Dudley likes to do something called Harry Hunting, and is a real bully that needs to be put in his place."
Hermione couldn't think what to say next. She wanted to say something, anything. She was afraid that her mother would ask the one question she wasn't really to answer.
"Professor McGonagall tells me that," her mother began, and Hermione finished in her mind during her mother's slight pause to take a sip, 'you are pregnant.' "Hogwarts rules required you to live in an attached accommodation to Harry's dorm room. What is that like?"
Hermione let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Well, from the outside it looks a bit like that big wardrobe of Grandmother Granger, you know the one with the lion on the front?" Her mother nodded. "The first time Harry and I opened, we swung the normal clothes hanging part back in the inside, and it revealed my bed, which has these book shelves all around it, I don't even have to get up to get something to read. Harry won't let me stay in the wardrobe though. He only lets me close the doors when I or one of the other boys in the dorm are changing."
"Other boys? I hadn't quite realized that you were rooming with a score of them."
"Only five, and my wardrobe is really a separate room," Hermione defended. "I do have to share the bathing facilities, but only Harry is allowed to come in when I'm using them. That's just really because someone has to be able to check to see if I'm in there, I think."
"Wendy! Where is my tie?" Hermione's father's voice interrupted, before another question could be asked.
"It's right behind your bathroom door, Monty," Hermione's mother called back, looking at her watch. "Look at the time. Are you sure that you'll be all right while your father and I have lunch with Mr. Capulet?"
"I'm sure Mum," Hermione replied. "Especially if you'll let me make another mug of hot chocolate."
"Your father will probably lecture us about your teeth for doing so, but he just doesn't understand chocolate. Go right ahead. If you run into any trouble, you can call or go see Mrs. Richardson."
"Yes Mother," Hermione replied with great relief as her mother left the room. After a few more sips, her hot chocolate was done, but she decided to wait to make her next mug. Mum had given permission, but it would be best to not let Dad see her making it. He seemed to think she was going to get burned every time.
As for calling Mrs. Richardson, or horror of horrors, visiting her ... Mrs. Richardson's perfume would probably trigger her morning sickness, despite the potion she'd taken this morning, at the very least. She certainly didn't plan on listening to the widow's diatribe on proper behavior of children, like when she was growing up.
No, she was going to make another mug of hot chocolate, and wait for Harry to call like he promised.
It had taken way too long for Harry to find time to call Hermione. He missed her, but the interviews with Child Protective Services had taken most of the first week of his holiday. They were not just his interviews. Victoria had her share of them, and Harry had found himself sitting with her during the later ones, and she doing the same for him. It made it easier having someone who had also been abused there.
He was glad he'd been born a boy now. Victoria had it a lot worse, in his opinion. Victoria said otherwise, but Harry had only been beaten and yelled at. Victoria had been raped.
It had only been ten minutes since the last interview that Victoria had. They'd made a habit of spending time, mostly in silence, together after each interview. Harry was of the opinion that the interviewers really didn't believe either of them. Usually that time stretched into an hour, at the very least, but Victoria had received an owl. Harry thought the eagle owl that had delivered the message was somehow familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. So, he had time to call, for once.
"Is Hermione in?" Harry asked, when a man's voice answered the phone. "This is her friend, Harry Potter."
"Hermione!" Harry heard the man's voice call distantly. "It's a boy!"
There was some fumbling of the phone, before he heard the familiar voice of the mother-to-be of his child. That thought was a surprisingly comforting one, after a visit from the Child Protective Services interviewers. "Da-a-a-a-d-dy!"
There was some fumbling with the phone, before Harry heard Hermione's voice clearly. "Harry! What took you so long to call."
"Interviews with the idiots from Child Protective Services," Harry replied dryly, trying to keep his tone neutral.
"Why do I think you're holding back on me?" Hermione's voice cajoled him.
Harry found himself responding to her, just like he had every time she hugged him. "Okay, interviews with the bloody idiots who apparently can't do anything until it's bloody too late. They thought it would be a brill idea for Victoria and I to go home to our respective parents in order to reconcile the situation. I thought maybe it was just because I didn't show many signs of it, but with Victoria?
"She's in her sixth month with her step-father's baby, with three younger siblings at home. And they think she's lying. Professor Snape really set them straight though. He was bloody brill when that counselor suggested that Victoria go see her father."
"Language, Harry," the admonishment came as soon as he paused. He could see the expression on Hermione's face. "I swear, I leave you alone a few nights to talk with Ron, and suddenly you're putting bloody after everything."
"Hey, he's the only one in our dorm that has a sister near our age. I need that advice."
"Are you implying, Harry, that you have to seek advice to understand me," Hermione asked. The tone was actually a bit teasing Harry judged.
"Hermione, there is absolutely no way I have any way to totally understand you," Harry replied. He believed that with all his heart. As soon as he thought he understood what Hermione was feeling, it seemed like she changed like lightning. One minute she was smiling, the next crying her eyes out. She blamed her pregnancy. Harry wasn't that sure. He hadn't really understood her before the troll.
"We'll work on that," Hermione said. "Now, are you going to give me any hints about the book you got me?"
"Who says it's a book?" Harry shot back. It was, but Harry wasn't going to tell Hermione that. As Dean had explained, there was a certain something to anticipation of Christmas. He had not got the pleasure of guessing about the gifts under the tree before. This year in the bed and breakfast, for the first time that was changing. He was looking forward to Christmas. For once he wasn't worried about the goose.
"It weights right, it's the right shape, and I think I can feel the ribs of it's binding," Hermione enumerated.
"That assumes that I didn't get Professor McGonagall to put it under a timed transfiguration spell." Harry grinned. "It could be a complete Chuddley Cannons Fan kit." That was what he had got Ron. "Or maybe a lot of Cadbury Dairy Milk bars." He'd gotten that for Sally-Anne.
"You know my parents won't let me have that," Hermione wailed. Harry knew that. He also knew that Hermione was the most likely to steal from Sally-Anne's milk tray boxes.
"Blame it on a pregnancy craving," Harry advised. He was fairly certain the most of Hermione's cravings were not real. There were exceptions, of course. There was no other way to explain her request for cod with cherry sauce.
"I haven't told them yet." The admission was soft, almost inaudible.
"Why?" That had been the primary reason that Hermione had gone home, or at least that's what she had told Harry.
"I haven't found the right time," Hermione said. "They always seem so busy. And they let me go to the parties this year. I got a real dress, and Mum let me wear make up! You should have seen the estate, all dressed up for Christmas. They had boughs of holly, and the trees were all lit up with blinking white lights ...
Harry let Hermione continue to describe her night at the Christmas party. Someday, he hoped he'd be able to go with her, but for now, he'd listen and keep his mind off the other things.