Destinies Collide

Thoughts and Rules

August 20th, 1988

"What's that?" Hermione dropped down on the couch by Harry's side, frizzy hair now pulled back in a bun with the scrunchie she'd gone to ask Mr Wright for after forgetting hers. It was probably Marie's since Mr Wright's hair wasn't that long yet. It was getting pretty long though, and Harry's too, he wondered if he'd have to get a haircut.

"Hm?" He looked away from the screen when his arm was poked and saw Hermione looking at him as if waiting for something.

"What's the show?" She pointed at the television, bumping him with her knee as she crossed her legs.

"Puddle Lane!" Harry replied with a smile, but it fell a bit at her frown and he held out the remote control, "um, we can watch something else, if you want?"

"That's a show for babies," she pointed out and took the control from his hand, "don't you have documentaries? Ooh, or mystery movies! Mom said I can watch murder mysteries if I promise to close my eyes if there's blood."

"Why'd you wanna see something with murder on the name?" Harry couldn't help but ask, "and I'm not a baby, my- I just couldn't watch anything with magic before."

"Why don't you? " Hermione replies as if it had been a dumb question, but at least she's nice enough not to tell him that to his face. "Plus magic isn't real, murder is!"

"It could be!" He crosses his arms, sinking into the couch and feeling upset but not sure why.

Did he want to tell Hermione about magic and was upset that he couldn't, or was he upset because she said it didn't exist and if he told her she'd think he was freaky? Emotions were confusing.

"Science says it doesn't," she changed the channel a couple of times but didn't stay long in any of them.

"Yeah, but people tell what science says, maybe people just don't know how to, um, how to science magic?" He shrugs.

"...I guess," Hermione said after a bit and turned off the television, "there's nothing good. When you come to my house we can watch Young Sherlock Holmes, mom bought me all the tapes. Maybe if you ask your dad, we can have a pyjama party and watch them all!"

"He's not my dad," Harry corrects, wide-eyed.

"But he said you're his ward, that's just law speak for being his son," she pointed out, dropping the remote on the centre table, "he takes care of you and buys you stuff, doesn't he?"

"Is that what dads do?" he can't help but ask, curiosity winning over the fear of Mr Wright listening in and not liking being called his dad, "my, um- my parents died, so I don't know..."

He saw Uncle Vernon be a dad to Dudley, but it wasn't the same as having one.

"Oh," Hermione whispered, looking at him like she was thinking hard before turning more on the couch to face him, "dads... ask about your day, they make sure you have all the stuff you need and that you're eating right, they hug you when you're sad, and it's like nothing can hurt you, and if you do get hurt they always help, even if it's your fault. And they love you no matter what."

"What- what about moms?" Harry leans in slightly at the warmth the description brings.

"Moms make the yummiest foods," she starts, smiling a bit, "they sing you to sleep, or read you stories, and they help you dress so you look good! They ask about your feelings if you're happy or sad, and they make sure you're studying and they know all the things so they can help you. Moms always smell really nice, and their hugs are warm, and they also say they love you, all the time."