Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Perfect Summer	By : harrypegger Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 276419 -:- Recommendations : 7 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just like playing in JKR's sandpit. Because of this, I OBVIOUSLY don't make any money from it.

Chapter List
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Harry woke up, and wondered for a moment where he was. Then he remembered, and groaned. Last night, he had somehow blown up his Aunt Marge, run away from home and then ended up at the Leaky Cauldron only to run right into the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. And then, Fudge had NOT had him arrested and expelled from school as he had expected, but had been pretty reasonable and told him that he should stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer. It had all been a bit weird, with Fudge acting in a genial and avuncular manner that seemed rather different from Harry’s usual experiences with the ministry. He looked at the sunlight streaming through the window, and got out of bed, pulling on clothes as he walked over to the window. There was Diagon Alley below, already bustling. He looked at the clock on the wall, which showed it was half past ten. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth while he had a think about what he could do with the day.
Fudge had asked that he not go into muggle London, which was fine with him. If there was anywhere that he had to be confined to, Diagon Alley seemed like a pretty reasonable place to him. As he was pulling on his trainers, there was a knock on the door. One shoe on, the other in hand, he went over and opened it, to reveal Tom, the landlord.
“Sorry to bother you Mr. Potter, but there’s some folks downstairs that want to see you. They say Dumbledore’s sent them.” Harry looked blankly at him. Who would Dumbledore have sent?
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be down in a second.” He pulled his other shoe on, and then followed Tom down the hall, closing the door behind him.
Walking down the stairs, he saw an unfamiliar couple standing at the bar. They were the only people in the place, so Harry assumed they must have been the people asking for him. The woman looked slightly familiar, but he couldn’t work out why. They turned to look at him as he and Tom approached.
“Ah,” said the man with a smile, “You must be Harry.” He held out his hand, and Harry shook it.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Who are you?” he asked. The man opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shriek from behind Harry.
“HARRY!” Harry turned at the sound of footsteps, just in time to brace himself as he was hit with a huge hug from his best friend Hermione Granger. He hugged her back, stunned at her appearance.
“Okay Hermione, let him breathe,” said the man in an amused tone. Hermione released him, and pulled away, a slightly embarrassed look on her face.
“Sorry Harry,” she said, blushing. “This is my parents,” she explained, indicating the man and woman.
“Oh!” exclaimed Harry. “Sorry, I should have recognised you,” he said, holding his hand out again. “Nice to meet you properly, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” They both shook his hand, and then Harry turned to Hermione. “So what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Well, Dumbledore showed up at our house really early this morning, telling us what had happened last night with your aunt and uncle.” She looked at him reproachfully. “Honestly Harry, what were you thinking, running away in the middle of the night like that? Something dreadful could have happened!”
Harry couldn’t resist a small smile at Hermione’s concern, delivered in a slightly bossy way that only she could make seem endearing. “This isn’t funny!” she exclaimed, swatting him on the arm. “You could have been hurt!”
“Okay, okay,” he said to try and pacify her, assuming what he hoped was an appropriately contrite expression. “What did Dumbledore tell you, anyway?”
“Well, he told us that you had run away from your aunt and uncles, and somehow managed to find your way to the Leaky Cauldron, and since the Weasleys are away in Egypt right now, could you spend the summer with us. If you want to, I mean, you don’t have to,” she finished, slightly breathless.
Harry looked at her in stunned disbelief, and then at her parents, who smiled at his gobsmacked expression.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “I’d love to!” Hermione squealed with delight, a huge smile on her face.
“Well Harry, shall we go and get your things?” asked Mr. Granger.
“Oh, yeah,” said Harry. “They’re actually all still packed up in my trunk.” He led the way upstairs, and the two of them soon returned, carrying Harry’s trunk between them, with Tom behind them carrying Harry’s broom, and Hedwig, in her cage.
“Right then, lets get everything loaded into the car, shall we?” said Mr. Granger. “Then we can get going, and maybe stop somewhere for a bite to eat.” They loaded up the car, with Mr. Granger expressing interest in Harry’s Nimbus 2000.
“Hasn’t Hermione ever told you about Quidditch?” he asked. Mr. Granger waved his hand vaguely.
“She’s mentioned it, but not really anything in detail. It didn’t sound that serious, to be honest.” Harry stared at him with his mouth open, then looked at Hermione, an accusing expression on his face.
“Not that serious?” he asked her incredulously. She had a studiously neutral expression on her face, and did her best to pretend she hadn’t heard him.
“You really ride these things around, in all sorts of weather?” asked her father, attracting Harry’s attention again. He was holding the broomstick in his hands, peering interestedly at it.
“Yeah,” said Harry. “It’s a really fun game, when you understand what’s going on. I got made seeker in my first year, but I’d never even heard of it at that point.”
“Seeker?” the older man asked. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was beaten to it by Hermione’s mother.
“Boys?” she said. “Perhaps we can get going, and detailed description of broomstick racing can be left until later?”
“Yes dear,” said her husband, placing the broomstick carefully in the boot of the car. Harry carefully avoided making any comment on ‘broomstick racing’, and judging from the cringing expression on Hermione’s face, she was expecting him to go on a long and detailed explanation right there and then about why Quidditch was definitely not broomstick racing. He took a deep breath, and swallowed the annoyance of having his favourite sport reduced to triviality. Mr. Granger closed up the boot of the car, and Harry hopped into the back seat next to Hermione.
As they set off, Harry couldn’t quite believe his luck. In the space of a few days, he’d gone from dreading the rest of the summer, to expecting to be expelled, to assuming he’d be spending the summer alone, albeit in a great place, and now he was going to be spending the summer in the company of one of his best friends.
“You look miles away,” commented Hermione. He turned and smiled at her.
“Not really,” he said. “Just thinking how amazing this summer is going to be.”
She smiled back at him. “Yes...just think, I might even let you borrow my copy of Hogwarts: A History, or even A History of Magic.” she said with a smirk. Harry groaned. Yes, there was certain to be lots of reading involved this summer.
“I miss Ron already.” he said in a deadpan voice, which earned him a thump on the arm.
The journey wasn’t too bad, the Grangers apparently lived about an hour and a half outside of London, but before they got back to the house, they decided to get something to eat.
“Where would you like to eat, Harry dear?” asked Hermione’s mum.
“Oh, anywhere is fine Mrs. Granger,” replied Harry.
“You don’t have a favourite place at all?” she asked, surprised.
“Come on Harry,” said her husband. “You’re the guest of honour, you get to pick the place.”
“Well, actually, I’ve never eaten at a restaurant,” he said, a little embarrassed. “The Dursleys have never taken me with them when they went out.”
“Oh!” said both of the adults, sharing a significant look. Mr. Granger continued. “Sorry Harry, Hermione mentioned that you didn’t like it there very much, but we never realised...well, anyway, how about Italian? There’s a nice place not far from here.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.” Aside from the odd slice of pizza that he’d been able to get from the fridge at the Dursleys, he’d never had Italian, so he hoped it would be nice.
They reached the restaurant, and sat around a table, while they all looked at the menu’s. Harry had to ask Hermione for help on something to choose, because everything looked complicated to him. Finally they ordered, and while waiting for the food to arrive, chatted about possibilities for the summer.
“Well dear, do you have any plans for things for you and Harry to do?” asked Hermione’s mother.
“I’m not sure yet,” replied Hermione. “We could probably go to the swimming pool, and ride the bikes down to the lake, or...” here she looked at Harry a little dubiously. “There’s always the library...” Harry snorted with suppressed laughter.
“Yes, the Hermione Granger day of fun. The library,” he said. Hermione made a face at him, and continued.
“Well, swimming then?”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe.” he answered, noncommittally. “I’m sure it’ll be pretty great just not being at the Dursleys, to be honest.”
Just then, the food arrived and they tucked in, conversation mainly drying up as they ate.
“Right then,” said Mr. Granger. “Everyone ready for home?” A chorus of “yes’s” was his answer, so they paid the bill and headed back out to the car. Harry was quite contentedly full, and watched with interest as they drove through the neighbourhoods, finally arriving at a nice detached house with a small garden at the front, and a driveway that Mr. Granger parked the car on.
“Right then Harry, lets get your stuff upstairs, shall we?” He turned to his wife and daughter. “Perhaps you ladies would get the lighter stuff, and we’ll carry his trunk?”
So it was that the two men carried the heavy wooden trunk up the stairs, and Hermione and her mum followed, with the broomstick and Hedwig. Harry’s mouth dropped open as they walked into the bedroom that had apparently been given to him for the summer. It was twice the size of his room at Privet Drive, had a double bed, wardrobe, and a comfortable chair in the corner. He banged his knee on the trunk as he looked around.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, turning his attention back to the task at hand. Mr. Granger led him over to the window, where they deposited the trunk onto the thick carpet. “This is all for me?” he asked, as Hermione and her mum came into the room. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“No, dummy, you have to share it with the other runaway we’re taking in for the summer,” she answered. Harry threw one of the cushions from the chair at her, which she easily caught and tossed back to him. Her parents laughed, and headed out of the door.
“We’ll leave you two to catch up, we’ll give you a shout when we’re cooking dinner.” said Mrs. Granger. They pulled the door closed behind them, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
Hermione looked at him, a smile on her face. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” she said. Harry smiled back.
“I know, it’s all a bit bizarre. Last night I was all prepared to somehow live life on the run, and now I’m here.”
“Come on,” said Hermione. “I’ll show you round.” She turned, and Harry followed her out the door. “This is the bathroom,” she told him as she pushed open a door, revealing a large bathroom with tub, shower and everything else you would expect. “That’s my mum and dad’s room,” she said, pointing out a closed door opposite the bathroom, before leading him down the hallway. “This one here is kind of a junk room...stuff just seems to end up in here, almost like magic,” she said, with an almost-giggle, looking into a room that was indeed filled with odds and ends of furniture, toys, and other stuff. “And this one,” she said with a deep breath, “This one is my room.”
Hermione pushed open the door to allow Harry his first glimpse into the private life of his friend. It wasn’t quite what he had expected. While it wasn’t the disaster that his bedroom sometimes was, it certainly wasn’t obsessively neat. There were spell books ranged along shelves, a desk that had a couple of open books on it, along with pieces of parchment and quills. A few clothes were strewn around the floor, although nothing that could cause her embarrassment. Not that Harry expected to see any skimpy lingerie. Even the revelation that she wasn’t quite the neat freak that he might have expected couldn’t prompt him to suddenly picture her in lacy underwear.
“It’s nice,” he said, clamping down heavily on the thought of Hermione parading around in skimpy underwear. He looked around. It wasn’t overly girly either, although it quite obviously wasn’t a boys room. It was the very antithesis of what the Dursleys would allow him to do. “I wish I was allowed to just leave my books out like this. The Dursleys would have a fit if they found me reading something titled...” he peered at the title of the nearest book. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover...?” he finished, a confused expression spreading over his face. Hermione blushed a deep red.
“Well, you can’t read about magic all the time,” she answered. “My spell books are all over there,” she said, changing the subject quickly. She indicated a wall with some shelves on it that were all but groaning under the weight of heavy, leather bound books. Not all of them were on the Hogwarts required book lists, clearly Hermione had managed to persuade her parents that some extra reading would do her marks some good. He took down a book about defensive magic, and flicked through it.
“Have a seat if you like,” she told him, indicating a bean bag on the floor. He settled into it, and quickly flicked through the pages, stopping at some of the more interesting spells. Hermione let him read for a while, and then spoke up again. “Has it been awful then, this summer?” Harry closed the book and looked up at her, sitting on her bed.
“Pretty bad,” he admitted. He told her about his Aunt Marge, and the whole visit, and how he hadn’t even managed to get his permission slip signed to go into Hogsmeade with everyone. Soon they were talking about anything and everything, from the sight of his Aunt Marge floating away into the night, all the way to some of the funny stories that Hermione had read in the Daily Prophet lately.
“Hermione!” came a voice from downstairs.
“Yes mum?” Hermione called back.
“Dinner’s ready!” Both of them shot a look at the clock in amazement.
“When did six’o’clock happen?” Harry asked, getting up from his comfortable seat, though with a twinge of stiffness, he now noted.
“We must have been talking for hours, I’m starving!” Hermione exclaimed. Harry followed her downstairs, and took at seat at the dinner table, which was already filled with loaded plates.
When they were finishing up, Mr. Granger spoke up. “So Harry, I hate to ask, but do you have any slightly dressier clothes?” Harry looked down at his oversized hand me downs from Dudley. He shook his head.
“Not really. Only wizarding stuff that I buy myself, the Dursleys refuse to spend any money on stuff for me, so I just get Dudley’s old stuff.” He looked down again, slightly ruefully. “You can probably tell he’s a bit bigger than me.” Mr. Granger looked at him thoughtfully.
“I’ll say,” he replied. “Well, the reason I asked is that we’re having some family over for a barbecue on wednesday night, so I suppose we’re going to have to take you shopping.”
“Umm, I don’t have any money...I mean, I do, but it’s all in Gringotts, but...” he trailed off, uncertain.
“Nonsense,” the older man told him. “A few decent clothes isn’t going to break the bank for us. Honestly Harry, Hermione told us that they didn’t treat you very well, but I don’t think we imagined...well, they should be ashamed, that’s all I can say,” he finished darkly.
“Umm, thanks,” Harry answered, a little awkwardly. “I mean, I can pay you back when we go to Diagon Alley for our books and everything...” Mrs. Granger interrupted him.
“We wouldn’t hear of it dear,” she told him firmly. “Clothes that fit should not be a luxury item for a teenage boy.”
Harry awkwardly mumbled some more thanks, not used to being treated like an actual person by muggles.
Hermione’s parents insisted that they go back upstairs while they cleaned up, and Hermione reassured Harry that her parents wouldn’t mind buying him a few clothes.
“Honestly Harry,” she told him, “I’ve never known anyone who was so selfless with his own money or time, be so embarrassed about getting a little back now and again.” Harry blushed again at her description of him. “Besides,” she said airily, twirling a finger through her hair, “I’m quite looking forward to it myself. It’ll be like having a life size doll to play with,” she teased. Harry just groaned. Why did receiving charity have to be so hard?
The two friends talked in Hermione’s bedroom, until her mum knocked on the door at around half past ten. “Time for bed I think, kids.”
“Okay mum,” replied Hermione.
“Your dad and I will be back at work tomorrow, so do you two think you can manage to not burn the house down while we’re gone?” She raised her eyebrow in a quizzical expression that made both Harry and Hermione grin in response.
“Yes mum,” replied Hermione in a dutiful voice.
“Good. There’s food for you in the fridge that you can heat up, I’d rather you not try to cook anything on the stove. Goodnight!” she said as she left the doorway.
Harry stood up, and Hermione got up and gave him a hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she said. Harry hugged her back.
“Thanks Hermione. Goodnight.”
Harry lay in bed that night, pondering again his strange turn of luck. Well, so long as he could avoid Hermione dragging him to the local library, this could well turn out to be one of the best summers yet.
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The Perfect Summer