Dateline: August 3rd, 1992 at 2100
They were still locked up in their room without any fresh air besides the conditioning vent in the top right-hand corner. They fell into an uneasy sleep with Hermione's arms around Harry's waist until someone or something was rumbling towards them. They woke up from their five seconds of peaceful sleep to get a glimpse of something floating in the sky with lights on the front. The floating object was rumbling down to Number Four, and now that they have seen it, it was a turquoise car that glides in the air. Someone was driving the car to their house, but who?
"Hiya, Harry and Hermione."
It was Ron's voice with his brothers, Fred and George, next to him.
"Ron, Fred, George!" breathed Harry as he and Hermione crept up to the window. "What are you all doing here?"
"Rescuing you two, of course. Now, come on. Get your trunks!"
They got their trunks from the bed and placed every single one of their books, wands, and clothes inside as Ron latched a hook on the bars of the window.
"You better stand back," said Ron, and Harry moved back into the shadows to get Crookshanks from the closet for Hermione. "Let's go!"
The car revved louder and louder, and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Hermione ran back to the window to see bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Ron pants as he hoisted them into the car. When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred quickly reversed to the window. They put their trunks in, and Fred reversed again, but this time, to the front of the car. Harry grabbed Hedwig and Hermione grabbed Crookshanks as both Fred and George grabbed their pets and clambered inside.
Harry and Hermione couldn't believe it -- they were free. They rolled down the window, the night air whipping their hair, and looked back at the shrinking roofs of Privet Drive.
"See you next summer!" they both yelled.
"By the way, Harry, happy belated birthday!" Ron said, and Harry nodded.
After telling Fred, George, and Ron about the situation of being locked up and about Dobby and Draco, Harry released Hedwig from her cage and began to soar into the air and followed the flying car to its destination.
Dateline: August 4th, 1992
"We're a little way outside the village," said George "Ottery St. Catchpole."
Lower and Lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.
"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard; Harry and Hermione looked for the first time at Ron's house.
It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic. Four to five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, The Burrow. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.
"It's not much, but it's home," said Ron.
"I think it's brilliant," said Hermione, happily as both she and Harry thought of Privet Drive.
"Harry, Hermione, how wonderful to see you, dearies." said a plump, ginger-haired woman; it was Molly Weasley. "Now, what happened?"
"They were starving us, Mrs Weasley." Harry began.
"There were bars on our window." Hermione followed.
Mrs Weasley moved her mouth; not one single word would come out. Never in her life would she see the saviours of the Wizarding World get starved and kept prisoner by their relatives.
Finally, after a long minute of silence, she said, "All right, time for spot at breakfast. Boys, wonderful job!"
At breakfast, Harry and Hermione couldn't dare but look at Mrs Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words, Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide To Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the Wizarding World, the photograph was moving; the wizard, whom Harry and Hermione supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily at them all.
"Oh, he's marvellous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book-"
"Mum fancies him," said Fred in a hushed whisper.
After de-gnoming the garden after breakfast, the evening rolled around quickly at The Burrow, and the front door slammed.
"Mourning, Weasleys." said a voice that could be noticeable by the Weasleys. It was their father, Mr Weasley. "What a night. Nine raids. Nine!"
"Raids?" questioned Harry as Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"Dad works in the Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse Muggle Artifacts Office. Dad love Muggles. Thinks they're fascinating." Ron answered.
Mr Weasley just sat down at the table and noticed some new faces at the table.
"And who are you two?" he said, looking at Harry and Hermione.
"Oh, sorry, sir, I'm Harry sir, Harry Potter."
"I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger."
"Good lord! Are you really?" they nodded. "Well, Fred, George, and Ron's told us all about you two, of course. When did they get here?"
"This mourning." Mrs Weasley answered. "Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back last night."
"Did you really? How'd it go?"
"Being stuck in there had to be living in a nightmare," Hermione answered.
"Come on; I'll show you two to your bedroom," Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione.
They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house.
They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a little piece of paper on it, saying Harry and Hermione's Room.
They both stepped in while Ron turned and went to his room, looking at the posters of his favourite Quidditch Team, The Chudley Cannons.
"This is the best house I've ever been in," said Harry, grinning wildly as Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, clearly agreeing with what he said, and sat on the bed.
It was getting late at night, but they couldn't stay awake if their life depended on it. After a couple of minutes of silence, the radio suddenly turned on, and Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. He pulled her to the centre of the room, and the two began to laugh, and dance as the song faded away, leaving them in an embrace.
They let go of the hug and stared into their eyes. Hermione leaned in, but Harry was quick to Hermione's actions. Their lips met.
For a straight minute, they were locked into the kiss, and they pulled away while smiling at each other. Hermione led him to the bed and got on top of him. Ensuring one couldn't leave the other, they fell asleep in their arms with Hermione's arms around Harry's neck and his arms around her waist.
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