The Safehouse

So, it seems as though this is going to end up being updated once a month or so the way things are going, but I promise not to give up on it. Thanks to everyone who reviews as I love your support and to everyone who reads as I love your curiosity into the Hermione/Dudley world, lol. And thanks to Lupie for help in me with wording in a few spots.


Chapter 4 The Safehouse Shifting Viewpoints

Hermione came to laying on the couch, Dudley’s worried face taking up her entire vision. “Dudley?” she mouthed.

“Hermione,” he responded, moving to the side, relief evident in his voice.

As she tried to figure out how she had gotten to the couch, the nights’ events flooded back to her. She sat up and found herself dizzy from the movement. She reached out her hand and before she could use magic, Dudley had placed her notepad in her hand, the pen connected to it by the cap. She gave him a warm smile before turning her head down to write. “Will you please help me up to my room?”

“Of course,” he responded, placing the notepad and pen in the deep back pocket of his pants. He then took a hold of one of her hands, a jolt going through him as she grasped onto his shoulder to steady herself through her next bout of dizziness. Once it had passed, she loosened her grip on him and he slipped his arm around her back, resting his hand on the curve of her waist as her arm draped around his shoulder.

“You ready?” he asked. At her nod they started their way through the house, both of them trying to be quiet as his parents were asleep, stopping every now and again for her to catch her balance. When he offered to carry her the rest of the way, she resolutely shook her head at him, a cute determined look crossing her tear-stained face.

When he reached her doorway he glanced into her room. “Do you need help getting to your bed?” She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. She held out her hand and he gave her her notepad. “Okay. If you need me for anything; a shoulder to cry on, to just be in the room, to have a long in-depth conversation that includes me using a dictionary, anything at all, really, just let me know,” he told her earnestly before letting go of her.

She just stood there looking at him for a moment before turning to her notepad. “Thank you very much for the offer, but I’ve already been leaning on you too much for support and I’ve just met you. I really just need to be by myself right now.” After he read it, she placed the notepad on the top of the bureau that was next to the door. Before he could turn and leave she pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek before pulling away and going into her room, closing the door behind her. Alone in the hallway, Dudley put his hand to his cheek and went to his own room, dazed and aroused from the feel of her body pressed against his own.

~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~

The next day Hermione refused to come out of her room for any reason other than to shower or use the toilet. Dudley brought her her meals, and she thanked him, but there was an overwhelming sadness to her. She didn’t let him in the room, but he could see photos spread over her duvet.

It was when she didn’t come downstairs for dinner that Vernon felt the need to comment, starting by mumbling under his breath so no one could hear him and working his way up to his normal tone that was set aside for complaining. “…rude girl. Petunia’s gone to all the effort to cook enough so she can eat and the freak can’t even be bothered to come down and eat like a civilized person-”

He was stopped by the sudden loudness of Dudley’s fist hitting the wooden table, causing the plates and silverware to rattle and a little bit of water to slosh over the side of the vase that held flowers in the center. He stood up, glaring down at his father. When he spoke, his voice was a calm icy tone that neither parent had ever heard come from their Dudders.

“Do not refer to her as a freak. In fact, I would appreciate it if you would stop referring to anyone, whomever they may be, as a freak. She is not being rude staying shut up in her room. She is grieving. According to her magical radio,” he stressed the word ‘magical’, watching his father’s face become more purple and his mother’s more white, “last night Harry killed You-Know-Who, but a lot of her friends were killed as well, including Mister Lupin, who was here yesterday, and his wife.”

He couldn’t have gotten two more different reactions from them even if he had tried. His mother’s reaction surprised him, while his father was exactly what he had expected.

“That poor blue-haired baby!” Petunia gasped, clutching her hand to her heart. “And Hermione, what she must be going through. I’m going to bring her some tea.” As soon as she said it, the woman was up and at the stove setting the kettle, wishing for the electric one she had at home.

Vernon, meanwhile, stood up and pointed his sausage-like finger at his son. “I will not have my own son speak to me in such a manner, especially not over a f-” at Dudley’s murderous glare, he changed mid-word, “-w-witch. If Potter’s killed this-this-whatever his name is, then where is he and why are we still here and not at home?” he demanded, becoming angrier with every word he spoke as he continued. “And if there are a few less of that lot around, then frankly I’m quite happy. I didn’t rather like that Lupin anyw-”

This time he was not cut off by a look from Dudley rather than the boys’ fist connecting with his face, dropping the whale of a man to the floor.

“Dudders!” Petunia screeched, dropping the box of tea she had just pulled from a cabinet. Dudley just stood there, completely shocked that he had hit his father protecting the honor of a dead wizard.

This is the scene Harry and Professor McGonagall apparated into.

~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~

Vernon scrambled up onto his feet and pushed Dudley out of his way while giving him a look that said clearly that this wasn’t over. “So when do we get to go home,” he boomed out without so much as a ‘hello’.

Harry and McGonagall exchanged a quick look before she took the reins. “We’re not quite sure, Mr. Dursley, but it will still be a bit of time.”

“He did kill the person you were hiding us from, didn’t he?” Vernon asked belligerently, pointing at Harry.

“Yes, Mr. Dursley, Mr. Potter did defeat You-Know-Who, but we have only caught about half of his supporters, and the ones who are loose wouldn’t think twice of killing you to get back at him. It will probably be another month, maybe two, until you can leave here.”

“Where’s Hermione?” interjected Harry.

“In her room. She wants to be alone at the moment, but for you I’m sure she’ll take visitors,” Dudley replied, walking to his join his cousin and leave the kitchen.

“What happened in there?” Harry asked once they were safely out of the room.

“Dad made a rude comment about Hermione not coming down for dinner and when I stood up for her he expressed his happiness at the deaths of some of ‘your lot’,” he finger quoted, “and continued on to say that he never liked Mr. Lupin anyway. So I laid him out.”

Harry’s expression turned from glowering to dumbfounded in the blink of an eye. “You hit your father over the honor of one of my friends? That’s violent but rather decent of you, Big D,” he said.

“Well, Mr. Lupin was a pretty nice person. And his kid was really cute, too. So his wife is dead also? That really sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m Teddy’s godfather. We’re going to make sure he grows up loved and knowing who his parents are.”

“Unlike you.”

“Unlike me,” Harry agreed. By now they had reached Hermione’s door. Dudley knocked loudly on the door, saying, “Hermione, it’s me, I brought you something.”

The door opened on its own and the two boys walked in to see Hermione curled up in her bed, cocooned in the covers. “Hermione?” Harry said tentatively. She popped her head out and looked up. Upon seeing Harry, her face broke out into a grin and she scrambled to reach him, tripping over her comforter. Before she could hit the floor, though, Dudley caught her and held her while she kicked the comforter away. Both boys had gone for her, but Dudley had gotten there first.

As he looked at the two of them, Harry was amazed. They had only known each other for a couple of days, but he could see that they were quickly developing feeling for each other, even if he wasn’t sure they knew it themselves. He had never seen Dudley so attentive to anyone before, and Hermione’s eyes lit up when she looked at him. The last time he had seen that, she had been looking at Ron, and it had been quite some time ago. Thinking of Ron, the redhead wasn’t going to like this at all, but as far as Harry was concerned, so long as his friend was happy, so was he.

Once she was steady she launched herself at her long-time friend, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, fresh tears following the tracks that had stained her face. “How are you? How’s Ron?” she mouthed when she pulled away.

“We’re… alive. I don’t really think its hit me yet that You-Know-Who is gone. Everyone’s happy about that, but for us at least it’s kind of overshadowed by everyone we lost.”

“Can’t you say his name yet or is it still taboo? Who died besides Fred, Remus and Tonks?” she asked, having summoned her notepad. He sighed and rattled off a list of people they had gone to school with or just happened to know after telling her that they weren’t sure whether the name was still taboo or not, so it was better to be safe than sorry with Death Eaters still out and about.

Harry then launched into a detailed account of everything that had transpired over the past couple days, knowing that she wouldn’t expect anything less. When he came to the part where he willingly let Voldemort kill him she stood up, walked over, and smacked him upside the head with more force than he would have imagined. “What was that for?” he asked, affronted.

“C’mon, Harry. Even I know the answer to that one,” Dudley said, rolling his eyes.

When Harry finished his story there were tears in his eyes as well as Hermione’s. Dudley was just amazed at everything his cousin had gone through and still lived to tell the tale. “So when do I get to come back?” she wrote.

“About that,” Harry started, pausing at the hooded glare she was giving him. “You see, Hermione, the Order thinks it would be best for you to stay here for a while with Dudley and his parents. They have to stay because we’re afraid of retribution to me through them while so many Death Eaters are still loose. You, on the other hand, can’t go out in public until the muggleborn laws and everything are repealed. They figured it would be best for you to stay here where we know you’re safe.”

“You are not making me happy here, Harry, but I understand. I can still go to the funerals and take my N.E.W.T.’s, though; right?”

“I don’t know about the funerals, but let’s go downstairs and ask Professor McGonagall.”

“Professor McGonagall has been here this whole time and you haven’t said anything? Dolt!” she scribbled, leaving the notepad on Harry’s lap and racing out of the room.

She skidded into the kitchen where the old woman was seated at the table drinking tea with Petunia, telling her exactly what had happened. Petunia had come to the decision that if the events of the wizarding world had such bearing on the lives of her family, she should be informed as to what was going on. Vernon was in the living room, loudly watching telly and pretending he had never heard the word ‘magic.’

Professor McGonagall stood up in order to pull Hermione into a firm hug which was returned with just as much enthusiasm before the younger woman went to a drawer and pulled one of the spare notepads that she and Dudley had strategically placed throughout the house. “Harry told me everything about the fight and having to stay here. I was just hoping that I could go to the funerals and take my N.E.W.T.’s”

“I was expecting this question from you,” the older woman sighed, glancing to the two teenage boys that had just entered the room. “You are allowed to attend the funerals under glamours to look like you’re related to the Weasley’s and you will stay with them at all times. As for your N.E.W.T.’s, you’ll have to wait a while to take them because you’re currently still not allowed to go to school and if you are found your wand will be confiscated and snapped. You can take them once the muggleborns are officially citizens again, but it’s not worth risking your safety before that time.”

At this, Hermione looked crestfallen. She was happy that she would be allowed to attend the funerals of her friends, but she had really wanted to take her exams as soon as possible.

“Alright,” she wrote as she gave an inaudible sigh. “I guess that gives me more time to study if you can bring me outlines of some sort that tell me what I need to focus on. When are Harry and Ron taking theirs since neither of them are muggleborns? And when are the funerals? Do we know yet?”

“Yes, I will bring you some study guides. Unlike you, neither Mister Potter nor Mister Weasley spent any time this year on their studies, and so if either of them want a career in the wizarding world they need to complete their schooling. I am highly recommending they both go back to school next year, assuming that we can restore enough of the castle in a timely manner to hold everyone. It certainly took a beating last night.”

Hermione looked over to Harry and he could see her question in her eyes. Opting to answer her before she could write it down, he said, “Yes, we are going back. Mrs. Weasley isn’t really giving Ron a choice, and this way not only do I get to finish my education but I get to see Ginny everyday.” He was blushing by the time he finished his sentence and she smiled knowingly at him.

Professor McGonagall glanced over to the clock on the wall. “Oh, my, is that the time? I’m sorry, Hermione, but we really must be off. Someone will be here in the next couple of days with your study guides and the details on the funeral arrangements.” With that Hermione gave each of them a hug and they disappeared with two loud pops.

Petunia walked over to Hermione, who looked temporarily lost without her friend, and wrapped her arms around the girl in an awkward hug. “I’m sorry about your friends. Would you like some tea?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Ummm… no thank you, Mrs. Dursley, but thank you for offering,” Hermione wrote as she shook her head, stunned. This was most certainly not the Aunt Petunia that Harry had always described. “I think I’ll just go to the den and read.”

“Hermione, would you care to play a game of checkers or something? There’s a closet full of board games,” Dudley asked, not having read her note. She thought about it for a moment before nodding her head. They ended up playing Mastermind, and she was amazed at how good he was at the game of logic and strategy, though she assumed that it was another side-effect of boxing.