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Author: Smith Story: Sometimes It Takes A Dream To Wake You Up Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 1 Words: 35,204
Harry was sitting quietly in his room at his desk, elbow on top, chin in hand, smiling at the blue afternoon sky and white clouds. The deal with the Dursleys was holding up and he rarely ever saw them. He would go to Mrs. Figg's house in the morning and the Dursleys would be completely gone from his life for a couple weeks at least. Harry was a little concerned that while at Mrs. Figg's he would not be able to continue making use of owl post, but if he could manage to outwit Filch for four years of sneaking around Hogwarts, he was confident he could handle the cat lady. He was also concerned that his staying with Mrs. Figg might upset the plans in motion for him and his friends to see each other but if anyone could manage it, it was Professor Dumbledore. So Harry was confident that he would be seeing Ron, Hermione, and Ginny soon enough. He'd received three more letters from Ron. Harry vaguely remembered listening to something about the stages of grief during one of Petunia's chat shows and Ron's letters reminded him remarkably of that process. Harry could recall that, according to the "expert" on the tele, there were five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Unfortunately, instead of moving from one stage to the next Ron seemed to be collecting them all and choking on them. He was still in some denial but seemed to now realize and admit (to Harry anyway) that he did like Hermione as something more than a friend. He was still angry as that was just the way Ron was. He had started asking Harry about things he might do to bargain Hermione away from Krum. He was obviously depressed. The second letter had smudges reminiscent of Hagrid's Buckbeak letters, suspiciously tear-like. The last letter had been a masterpiece of self loathing (which was also sadly just the way Ron was), depression (more stains), and acceptance that Hermione would never care for him like he cared for her. It took quite a bit of self control to not just forward the last letter to Hermione, it would have so easily cleared everything up but Harry's sense of honor prevented that action. Self preservation was also a factor in not forwarding the letter as Ron would kill him, really, really kill him, slowly and painfully. Harry felt for his friend and was as supportive and encouraging in his replies as his confidence with Hermione would allow, but he still thought it was mostly Ron's own fault. He was also very sick of being stuck in the middle of their mess. Hermione had finally replied with a short letter and was willing to be a part of the gathering if it happened but made it clear she would be on a short fuse where Ron was concerned. Harry wasn't surprised that her advice concerning the dragonhide gloves and Hagrid was almost verbatim that of Ron's. He had replied thanking her for her willingness to put up with Ron so that they could all be together. He also put in a request for the dried centipede and decided not to say who it was for. He hoped Ginny was right and things would work out when they laid eyes on each other again. Ginny. Harry's smile widened. They had exchanged more letters too, wonderful letters. He picked up the latest, placed it under his nose, and inhaled deeply. Her scent was just kinda yummy. Each letter had been more playful than the last. It was remarkable how much the Ginny that was coming alive in these letters was like the dream Ginny he knew so…intimately. Harry's happy thoughts were rudely interrupted by someone pounding his bedroom door. Uncle Vernon's voice thundered through the door, "Boy! Are you packed for Mrs. Figg's?" ‘So much for being ignored.' "Yes, sir," Harry answered. He'd been packed for three days. "Right then. Gather it up and be downstairs in five minutes." "But wasn't I to leave tomorrow?" The sound of thudding footsteps going down the stairs was the only answer he received. Harry sighed and rose from the desk slowly. He set Hedwig loose with instructions to meet him in Mrs. Figg's backyard behind the greenhouse after dark. His uncle had forbidden him to use his school trunk and his new backpack would take too much explanation so he was making due with an old, taped-up, pink suitcase that belonged to his aunt. As he attempted to pick up the ancient piece of luggage, the handle snapped off and as it landed back on the floor. One of the latches came open and threatened to spill the suitcase's contents all over the floor. At first Harry thought the latch had broken as well but it snapped back closed with little effort. He bent over and grabbed the suitcase by its sides but then had to put it back down to open his bedroom door before again manhandling the case out the door and down the stairs. He was quite sure the luggage difficulties were just the beginning of an unpleasant turn to his summer. His uncle was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, looking even more annoyed than usual. "About time. Let's go then." "I thought I wasn't going until tomorrow." Harry readjusted his grip on the bulky luggage. "We will have too much to do in the morning to worry about with you. We're dropping you off now, one less thing to deal with." Harry shrugged, luggage and all. Uncle Vernon was obviously disappointed to be denied any argument but started towards the door with a grunt. Harry always got a ride over to Mrs. Figg's house so that either his aunt or uncle could give the old woman a long list of instructions as to how Harry should be handled. Harry didn't mind so much this time as the suitcase weighed a good 30 pounds, Mrs. Figg's house was two streets away, and he was still rather skinny despite the odd jobs this summer. They arrived at Mrs. Figg's house just before tea. Mrs. Figg answered the door after the third ring and asked them to come in. The cat odor was gone, but only because the cabbage odor was now so overpowering. Harry's eyes began to water the stench was so bad. "Well then, I won't tarry, lots to do before morning. Taxi arrives at six you know. Please use the same rules we have discussed in the past." Uncle Vernon then turned to Harry. "You behave yourself, boy!" Harry's uncle's eyes were watering too, but he was smiling malevolently at the fate to which he was consigning Harry. Harry said nothing, but dropped the suitcase with a loud thump as the huge man spun quickly on his heel and left. Harry was pretty sure he heard his uncle cackling loudly as he strode away up the walk. He attempted to smile at his hostess but it came out as mostly grimace. He supposed he would get use to the stench eventually. After all, Mrs. Figg didn't seem to mind it. "Go on then, you know where to put your things. Hurry up or we'll be late for tea." Harry wondered how they could be late for tea when they two would be the only ones participating in the 4 o'clock ritual, but then he supposed it was a grown up thing. He trudged up the narrow stairs and left his fashion challenged luggage in the room he normally used when staying in the house. The smell was not quite as horrible there but it still threatened to gag him with every breath. He made his way to the kitchen quickly so as to stay on Mrs. Figg's good side. She poured the tea and served up a plate of cucumber sandwiches but all Harry could taste was the cabbage in the air. "So Harry, having a nice summer?" The question surprised Harry. In all the time he had stayed with her she'd never shown any interest in the goings on of his life. "Yes, ma'am." He resolved to keep his answers short and not volunteer anything. Not wanting to let anything slip that might make this unpleasant situation any worse. "On holiday from St. Brutus is it? Like it there?" "It's alright I suppose." ‘Uh, oh,' Harry flashed back to the Aunt Marge incident. A discussion about this very subject had led to a discussion of his parents which in turn had led to him blowing up his uncle's sister. "Headmaster Campbell is a good friend of mine." Harry blinked, ‘There really is a St. Brutus? Thought Uncle Vernon made the whole thing up.' "I have asked after you a few times. He's never heard of you." Mrs. Figg took a sip of tea as she gave Harry a look of challenge. "Oh, I do my best to avoid the attention of the faculty." This wasn't a lie at least where it concerned his real school, and he did try he just wasn't too successful. "Really? Your uncle paints a very different picture of you." Harry almost laughed but still managed to keep his face impassive and voice disinterested so that perhaps the subject would change. "I'm making an effort to do better in school." Also not a complete lie. "Admirable. Admirable. Perhaps later tonight we can look at some of my photo albums. I have some new pictures of my youngest Siamese." "Yes, ma'am." Harry didn't care to look at cat pictures yet again but at least the subject had changed. He did notice that he hadn't seen an actual live cat at this point which was unusual. There were typically at least two in sight wherever one happened to be in this house. "I bought some rather good tuna steaks today, very fresh. Does that sound alright for dinner?" "Yes, ma'am." Harry doubted whether fish would have enough flavor to cut through the cabbage. The conversation stopped at that point. Harry gave up on the sandwiches and continued to sip his tea quietly. Mrs. Figg looked up from pouring another cup as if to start the conversation again but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. She seemed very startled by the sound and took a moment before moving to answer it. "Hello?" She listened for several seconds and then began to smile. "Ah, well it's been some time but it's like riding a br- … a bike." [pause] "I see, two hours you say? Well, I understand of course but I had hoped to ease into the matter a bit slower and have a little more fun with him. I suppose his reaction to a more abrupt presentation should be fairly entertaining." [pause] Mrs. Figg chuckled. "Evil? Perhaps, one must take amusement where one can you know." [longer pause] "Yes, understandable, good thinking too. We'll clear the path. And the other two will still be on the original schedule?" [pause] "Good then. We'll be ready." Harry had heard every word but kept quiet. Something was happening in a couple hours so he figured she'd be giving him some instructions to make himself unseen as the Dursley's would. He turned to look at Mrs. Figg as she returned the handset to the cradle. She looked at him with a mischievous smile and a glint of mirth in her eye. "Hermione will be arriving by Floo in two hours. We need to clear the area around the fireplace." Harry blinked, twice. "Excuse me? Who will do what when?" "Your friend Hermione will be arriving in two hours. The Floo connection has been accelerated to make it more difficult to track. We need to clear the area and cushion it because she's liable to be thrown clear with some force." "Who are you?" Harry's hand itched for his wand. She shrugged. "Arabella Figg, your babysitter." "And you're a witch." Wait. Had Dumbledore mentioned her once? "And I'm a witch." "Bloody Hell," muttered Harry and then took another sip of tea. Mrs. Figg smiled. "Good and proper British understatement. I must say I am impressed. I was hoping for more of a reaction though. It's been some time since I had the opportunity to twist the tail of a Gryffindor." "All these years, why didn't you say anything?" Anger was creeping into Harry's voice. If she wanted a reaction, who was he to disappoint? "It wasn't my place. My charge was to keep watch over you when you left the protective wards of the Dursley's home. I had to keep the confidence of your aunt and uncle and I couldn't risk telling you anything as young as you were. Children under eleven are notoriously bad at keeping secrets. To be fair, you haven't been to stay with me since you were off to Hogwarts and those odd jobs didn't allow any time to chat." She started to leave the kitchen. "Please help me with the furniture in the sitting room?" She motioned for him to help with a table and rocking chair near the fireplace and continued, "I couldn't make it too pleasant for you either. Knowing the Dursley's, I was fearful if they thought you enjoyed staying here they would have found another sitter." "Yes, that's very likely. So you're not just a crazy cat lady?" "My family would say I'm certifiable and in fact they tried to do so at one time. As to cats, I really don't care for them at all, such haughty creatures." She made a face. "You made me and yourself spend hours looking at photo albums of animals you don't care for? Why? And where are all the cats that used to live here?" "There were never any cats that lived here. I own nine registered kneazles and have glamoured them to look like ordinary cats. Now kneazles are admirable creatures. I have always used them in my work, simply wonderful for sniffing out unsavory sorts. They are all out now on patrol and will find me quickly if they detect anything suspicious. The photo albums just helped the illusion with any visitors I might have, such as you." Harry looked at her confused. "Did you know my parents or something? Why would you live here as a Muggle just to watch me for fifteen years?" "Fourteen years dear. It wasn't much of a sacrifice. After my Reggie was killed, the magical community lost most of its appeal. I wanted peace and quiet. So when Albus asked for volunteers to protect you. I volunteered." "I suppose I should thank you then?" Harry wasn't sure he was up to thanking her just yet. "Not at all, I felt I owed you after you defeated Voldemort. He was the one who killed my husband." "I didn't do anything but let him try and kill me. My mother was the one who really defeated him." "Then I was paying a debt to her, regardless, I feel we are on even ground. Would you mind fetching the cushions and pillows from that sofa there and your bed? I'm afraid your Hermione is in for a rough landing." Harry objected, "She isn't "my" Hermione. She's just Hermione." "Little touchy on the subject aren't you?" Mrs. Figg chuckled making Harry blush and further convicting him, however wrongly. Harry decided to change the subject and remembering the phone conversation he overheard, "So then Ron and Ginny are coming tomorrow?" "Yes, around tea time. Rather a nuisance that, nothing should interfere with tea." "And we'll be staying here?" "Oh, Goodness no! I don't know if I'll be able to bear the stench for just tonight, never mind a fortnight." "You notice the smell?" Harry was incredulous. The old woman snorted a laugh, "I have a nose, Harry, though at the moment I wish I did not." "But what is it then? Can't you charm the odor away or something?" "I've got five cauldrons bubbling away in the cellar. In the past I only bothered with one or two but as you know things have become more complicated. Each of them is a part of the protection for this house and they all smell like boiling cabbage. There is a Clouding Mist which interferes with location spells. There is an Immobulus Mist which prevents those not keyed to it from moving around inside. There is a Nebulous Mist which interferes with the proper functioning of wands and any other items meant to focus magic, damned inconvenient but there you are. A Shield Mist which should protect the house from any magic directed towards it from outside. And the last is an experimental Mist that should react very painfully with anyone bearing the Dark Mark, your Professor Snape's help was invaluable with that." Harry scowled, "He is most definitely not "my" Professor Snape." She smiled knowingly, "He doesn't seem to like you much either. It was only at Dumbledore's insistence that he helped. He wouldn't even do it for me as a courtesy to a fellow Slytherin." "You're Slytherin?!" Harry laughed. "A Slytherin's been watching over me for fourteen years?" "If it makes you feel any better I married a Gryffindor," Mrs. Figg smiled. Harry laughed even harder at that, though he didn't know exactly why. He left to get the pillows from his bed and the sofa cushions and placed them where he guessed Hermione would land. Mrs. Figg started a fire the Muggle way so that they would be ready for their visitor. Mrs. Figg then sat on the relocated rocker and Harry grabbed a stool from the corner of the room. "So why do these Mists smell like cabbage?" "All potions smell like cabbage no matter what the ingredients are. That is to say about 11 out of 12 do. It's one of those strange truths of the universe that just is. You probably haven't noticed it before because of how drafty the potions classroom is. It's that way for a reason." "So do you really know Headmaster Campbell?" "Who?" "St. Brutus?" "Oh that. Just twisting your tail. Used to be a favorite hobby of mine, Gryffindor tail twisting, until I twisted the wrong one and he got even by marrying me. I don't know a bloody thing about St. Brutus." Harry smiled and decided that this was one Slytherin he could like, even if she did enjoy teasing Gryffindors. It was very strange that here was someone he had known his entire life but was just now really meeting. "So where are we going if we aren't staying here?" "Back to the Dursley's once we're sure they've left and your other friends have arrived. It's the safest place for you, and your friends, for that matter. And it doesn't stink to high Heaven." Harry liked the irony. Five witches and wizards running around 4 Privet Drive with the run of the place. His aunt and uncle would surely have a seizure if they knew. "Was it arranged that they won that cruise?" Mrs. Figg gave Harry an appreciative look, "Very good dear. That was the part of the plan I least cared for. To give those people anything just seems wrong, but we did need them out of the way, and Albus wouldn't let me petrify them for a week or so." "Perhaps they'll all get sea sick," he offered hopefully. She smiled with a faraway look in her eye. "Perhaps. In fact, I think I can guarantee it. Maybe food poisoning as well? Ah, wait, sea sickness with a ship board quarantine thrown in, just the thing to keep them away from us and miserable until after you leave for Hogwarts." She definitely was a Slytherin or a long lost relative of Fred and George. "When your Hermione arrives, she will be immobilized. I'll need to get a hair or two from her and then go pop it into the correct cauldron. Then she'll be able to move about. She's been warned, so she shouldn't be too out of sorts. She'll be aware and able to hear, so you should talk to her while I take care of the cauldron business." "Yes, ma'am," Harry decided not to take the "your Hermione" bait again. He started to ask why he or Uncle Vernon hadn't been immobilized but then he figured she'd had ample opportunity over the years to get hair from each of them. They chatted for another hour and a half about some of the adventures he had had at Hogwarts before the flame in the fireplace suddenly blossomed to four times its original size and turned green. First, a large trunk flew out of the fire and just missed Harry's shin. Then Hermione tumbled out and landed right in the middle of the cushions Harry had placed in the floor. For someone considered to be the smartest witch of her year, she had not chosen her Floo travel clothing very well. Her peach colored dress was now hiked up over her head revealing her white knickers underneath. She had obviously tanned a lot on holiday and the darkened skin of her legs and belly was set off very nicely by the lacy white underwear. Harry's eyes were in real danger of leaving his head. Mrs. Figg moved over to Hermione and pulled her dress down to a more modest arrangement, but only just, and mostly only to snatch a couple hairs from the younger witch's head. Mrs.Figg then left the room for the cellar. Harry knew he was supposed to talk to Hermione, and assure her that everything was fine, but at the moment he was still in shock and frozen as much as she. After several moments, he was able to shake his head clear of the image of lacy white knickers surrounded by bronzed female flesh and took a single step towards her when he was again stunned to inaction. Hermione had not been entirely truthful about her lack of a growth spurt this summer. In fact, she had had two obvious ones and the dress she wore was just low cut enough to present these developments for all to judge. Harry gave them a very favorable judgment. Harry screwed his eyes shut and counted to three. When he opened them he moved and kneeled to Hermione's side and started talking to her, though he kept his eyes locked on the fire which had returned to its orange-red hue and normal size. "It's alright, Hermione. Mrs. Figg should have you unfrozen in just a tick. Sorry about the hairs, I imagine that hurt a bit. I hope the Floo wasn't too rough. I heard they sped it up to make it more difficult to track and that's why you and your luggage came out so fast." Hermione was suddenly unfrozen and jumped to a standing position. She quickly adjusted her dress while blushing furiously. This adjustment consisted of pulling the dress down so that it now reached below her knees. Unfortunately for Harry the motion seemed to emphasize her upper body attributes all the more. "Hi Harry. It's good to see you again." She hugged him close and he felt her softness press into him. He only hoped his parts that were not so soft at the moment were not returning the favor. "You too." When they separated from the hug, Hermione's blush seemed to have moved to Harry. Mrs. Figg came back into the room, "Ah, Ms. Granger. Able to move about then I see. I'm Arabella Figg, your hostess. Harry? Are you alright? You look a bit peaked." "I'm alright. I think perhaps the Mists' fumes are getting to me." Mrs. Figg bit into her lower lip, not quite able to suppress a smile. "Yes, of course. Well it's getting near time for dinner. You two catch up while I sort things out in the kitchen. We'll have a bite and maybe chat a bit." Harry gathered up the cushions and the pillows from the floor and took them back to the sofa. Hermione followed him and they both sat down. Harry plastered a pleasant smile on his face and sat close enough to her so that if he kept looking at her face he couldn't see below her neck. He also grabbed up one of the pillows taken from the upstairs bed and casually but strategically hugged it to himself. He hoped it looked like he was just doing it for the purpose of comfort. "You look very nice Hermione. I'd say the Continent agrees with you. Did you make it home or come straight from there?" ‘Keep those eyes up, Potter!' "I made it home, but only just the day before yesterday. Professor Lupin stopped by our house to explain all the arrangements, security was too tight for owls. Then the schedule changed because of some mix up with the Floo connections, and Ministry contacts and here I am today instead of tomorrow." ‘He's acting odd. Sitting a bit close too.' "I am glad you're here. Are things any better between you and Ron?" ‘It's just cleavage, you idiot! Stop ogling her!' She sighed heavily. "No, can we save that for tomorrow? I'm really too tired to deal with anything about him." ‘I'm so nervous about seeing him tomorrow. I know I won't sleep tonight.' Harry shrugged. "OK with me but…never mind. How was Professor Lupin? Did he mention anything about Sirius?" ‘If she doesn't want me to ogle then why did she wear that damn dress?' "I asked but he couldn't say. He really didn't stay long other than to tell me what the plan for all this was. So that's Mrs. Figg, your old babysitter? Professor Lupin mentioned her. Isn't it amazing she's been a witch all this time?" ‘Harry's really nervous. He keeps trying to hold my eyes with his. What's that about?' "She seems like a completely different person now that the truth is out. I guess it was all a part of her act to get the Dursleys to trust her. I'm alright with it I suppose." ‘Calm down. Keep looking at her eyes, not her chest. Her eyes, not her chest. You can do this. She's your friend. She's just Hermione.' "It really does stink in here. They told my parents and me about the Mists so that we'd all feel better about all the precautions that were being taken. It sounds really fascinating. I'd like to see the cauldrons and recipes but I'll also be very glad to get out of here." ‘Maybe he took that kiss on the cheek at the train station too seriously? Oh my, does he fancy me now?' "I know what you mean. It'll probably be the first time I'll be happy to be back at the Dursleys." Harry laughed inwardly, if he was having this much trouble with the "new" Hermione, ‘Ron's a bloody goner.' Mrs. Figg's voice sounded from the kitchen. "Alright you two, come on." Harry followed Hermione towards the kitchen. He had to leave his protective pillow on the sofa because it would just look odd carrying it about everywhere. Fortunately, the need for it had subsided. Unfortunately, Harry made the mistake of looking down to another one of Hermione's improved features, her wonderfully shaped bum that swayed just so as she walked. ‘Oh bugger, she's got one of those too.' He sat down to the table and quickly placed the napkin in his lap, for reasons other than etiquette. He clapped his hand to his mouth and blew air through his fingers. He was actually frightened of what delightful perversities his dreams would include tonight. Hermione was also frightened as it seemed to her the wrong boy of their little group now had an interest in her and she wasn't on speaking terms with the right one.
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