The Dare

It was all Ginny’s fault. If she hadn’t dared Hermione, none of this would ever have happened! Not that all of it was bad, but, well, it was her fault anyway. And Seamus too, who organised the whole thing in the first place.

Muggle!AU - with a twist 😉

In response to a Harmony Hollow Fest Prompt:

A Haunted House? by Aeyliana

Harry and Hermione spend a spooky night alone in Number 12 Grimmauld House. It's always been a rickety townhouse full of sinister memorabilia and bad memories. Yet as the night draws out, both of them start to jump at shadows. Were there always those strange whispers? And since when was there a basement?! Perhaps they aren't as alone as they thought.

The Dare 

Hermione honestly didn’t know why they went along with it. Looking back, it had been a stupid idea.

It had been Seamus’ fault. 

The group met at their usual pub, where they gathered monthly to chat and catch up. Seamus, ever the Irishman, ordered a round for all of them and it only got worse from there. Roughly an hour later, everyone - including both herself and Harry, who could hold his liquor quite well - were more than a little drunk. So, when someone suggested a round of truth or dare, they happily went along with it.

Later, when she’d been asked, Hermione couldn’t remember much of what occurred after that - besides the fact that Lavender revealed she was pregnant, of course. (That would truly affect their lives nine months later - especially Ron's.)

What she could recall with absolute clarity, however, was her own turn. Her uninhibited brain had mistakenly chosen ‘dare’ when the person dealing it out to her was Ginny. She’d come to regret it later.

Ginny had a wicked smile on her face and fire in her eyes as she spoke.

“I dare you,” she uttered gleefully, “To break into and explore that abandoned spooky house in Grimmauld.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, “You can’t be serious! That’s trespassing!”

The redhead’s grin widened, “Don’t be silly! No one lives there! Who’s going to catch you? But, if it makes you feel better, I’ll let you take Harry with you. He should scare the big, dumb monsters away for you.”

Harry, sitting with his head in his hand, eyes half-closed beside her, suddenly jerked awake at the sound of his name.

“What am I being roped into?” he asked, alarmed.

Ginny looked up at him, smirking maliciously, “Scaring the Grimmauld monsters away for Hermione. I said I’m sure you'll keep them at bay.”

It was true enough. In their last year at school, Harry had changed from being an average-height, bean-pole of a boy to a tall, muscular, rugged-looking man. He certainly cut quite the intimidating figure.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head aggressively side-to-side.

“No way!” he protested, “You’d be barmy to even walk on the same side of the street as that place, never mind go in there! It just reeks of evil and it gives me the creeps!” He shivered involuntarily.

“What are you? Chicken?” Ginny inquired innocently.

“No!” Harry squawked then, more normally, added, “No, I’m just not stupid.”

Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed, “And you’re suggesting that I am?”

“Of course not!” He exclaimed, “Just - agh! You’re tying me up in knots!”

He ran a hand through his messy hair and signed, “Alright, I’ll do it - but only so Hermione doesn’t die alone in there.”

“Yes!” Ginny cheered.

That was why Harry found himself standing between Hermione and Ginny as the redhead grinned maliciously a few nights later. The creepiest house in Britain loomed over them, casting a dark shadow on the street below.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ginny asked, “Off you go.”

She gave the pair a shove, forcing them to step forward. Hermione glanced up at him, doing her best to mask her fear, but not truly succeeding. Harry smiled at her reassuringly and squeezed her hand.

“Together?” he asked.

Hermione nodded briefly and, together, they made their way to the front door of the house, ignoring Ginny who was glancing at their intertwined hands with a satisfied smile.

As they approached the building, Harry couldn't help but feel they should just turn around and avoid the place, but the thought of Ginny's malicious grin kept him walking forward. A scant few metres away, he felt a sort of pressure building around him. He glanced at Hermione to gauge her reaction, but she seemed unaware of it. A moment later, the pressure disappeared in a manner not dissimilar to the popping of a bubble. Harry frowned at the feeling but shook it off as being a figment of his imagination. 

Once they made their way along the front path and up the steps, they held a brief debate, after which it was decided that Harry would be the one to open the door. He did so reluctantly, pushing it inward cautiously. Hermione was simply shocked that it wasn’t locked.

Carefully, they made their way inside. However, as soon as they’d both passed through the doorway, the ebony door slammed shut behind them. Hermione shrieked and jumped. Harry caught her against his chest. They stood for a moment, catching their breaths and staring into each other's eyes before it began to get awkward and Harry cleared his throat. Hermione blinked, blushing and stepped away from him, but didn’t let go of his hand.

Without a word, they made their way further along the passage, barely making a sound. Something about the place urged them to be as silent as possible.

In the front hallway, there was very little natural light, so they squinted in an effort to see what was around them. Surprisingly, there was very little dust or dampness about, despite the building's apparent abandoned state. The walls, floors, ceilings and various items of furniture were all coloured different shades of black which didn't make seeing anything any easier. Hermione continued to clasp Harry's hand tightly, rather anxious and scared although she would never admit it.

Tired of walking around half-blind, Harry ran his hand over the wall beside him, looking for a light switch. He eventually found one and flicked it on despite Hermione's protest that it was a dangerous thing to do in a house that old.

Nothing exploded, however, as a gas lamp flickered to life beside them. Harry grinned at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say 'I told you so'. Hermione simply shook her head at him.

Once they were able to see properly, they made out a large, ornate staircase leading to the next floor. On the wall of the first landing hung what they assumed was a portrait, but it was covered by a set of dark, net curtains. Something told Harry that they shouldn't disturb it so the pair decided to explore the lower level first before heading upstairs.

They went through a doorway to their left where Harry used the light coming in from the passage to find the light switch on the wall. With that done, they discovered the room to be a kitchen. While it was rather dark and gothic, it did seem to be functional, with several pots, pans and other utensils lying about on various surfaces. 

"I'm beginning to think," Hermione said quietly, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "that Ginny was wrong about no one living here."

"I agree," Harry nodded, "although I do wonder, if that is the case, why the resident hasn't come to investigate the intruders in their house."

"Maybe we should leave?" Hermione asked, beginning to gently tug him back towards the door.

Harry shook his head, "Just give it a minute. If they come inquiring, we'll tell them the truth, apologise and leave."

Hermione swallowed, "Okay."

With that, they left the kitchen behind and headed on into the adjacent room. It appeared to be a sitting room, with a set of glass-doored cabinets along one side and a few antique-looking armchairs scattered about. Separating, Hermione went to explore one side of the room while Harry decided to look at the items in the cabinets - not touching them, of course - but just looking.

As he got closer, he felt a tug towards them and something within him seemed to expand. He felt slightly suffocated as if something was pushing against his lungs from within. In the cabinet, something whispered to him, begging him to come closer. He was about to take a step closer when Hermione placed a hand on his arm, startling him and causing whatever it was he had been experiencing to ebb away.

Hermione was looking at him with a strange expression on her face as he turned to her.

Harry frowned, "What is it?"

"Come over here," Hermione instructed, leading him over to a tapestry he hadn't initially noticed on the far wall, "look at this."

Harry did as she asked, gazing at the tapestry with curiosity etched on his features. It appeared to be some sort of family tree - The Black Family's, judging by the names - with the first birth dates reaching back over six centuries earlier. Most people seemed to have lived extremely long lives - some over 200 years, which Harry hadn't even known was possible. But it was as his eye travelled further down that he saw what had garnered Hermione's attention.

With birth dates some 80 years earlier sat the names 'Lady Dorea E Potter neé Black' and 'Lord Charlus I Potter'. The pair were joined by a gold dotted line which, Harry assumed, meant marriage. However, below them sat two other names - names which truly shook Harry - 'Lady Lily M Potter neé Evans' and 'Lord James C Potter'.

His parents. Why were they on the tapestry when he had never even heard the name 'Black' before? Why were they a Lord and Lady, when he didn't know of his family having any titles?

Beside his father's name, Harry noticed another name, this one bolder than the others as it led from the direct line - 'Lord Sirius O Black'. From this name, a silver thread linked to a name lower down which, he noticed detachedly, was also linked to that of his parents - 'Harold J Potter - 31 July 1980 to …'.

It was him. It had to be. But why? And how? What was going on? And why was he listed as 'Harold'?

Beside him, Hermione took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently, bringing him back from what would likely have been a rather major panic attack. He looked at her gratefully, seeing the sympathy and sorrow in her eyes.

"I don't understand," he said, voice slightly hoarse, "What does this mean?"

"I understand as little as you do, Harry," she said, "but right now, I'd be more concerned about the fact that your parents' death dates aren't listed."

"What?" he cried and turned to look at the tapestry again. Hermione was right. The spot where their dates of death were supposed to be were as blank as his own. 

"Does - does that mean they're alive? How?"

Hermione shook her head dazedly "I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this. Let's go upstairs and see if we can't find some answers."

With barely a nod of agreement, he followed her back out into the hallway and toward the stairs. Again, as they neared the portrait something within Harry screamed to stay as far away from it as possible and the suffocating pressure he had felt earlier began to build again in his chest. Hermione, oblivious to this, determinedly strode forward toward the landing, pulling Harry along closely behind her.

As soon as they stepped foot on the landing, everything changed.

The curtains covering the portrait shot open and the person in the painting started shrieking horribly. Hermione screamed in fright and stumbled backwards, bashing into Harry and causing them to tumble down the stairs.

At that point, the pressure in Harry's chest reached breaking point as he felt something snap and burst as a wave of some unknown power rippled out from him like a shockwave, shaking the house and causing the horrid portrait to fall from the wall, cracking loudly against the floor as it did so. Blissfully, it stopped shrieking.

Panting, Harry lay back on the floor where he'd landed with Hermione sprawled across his chest, shaking and clutching his shirt like a lifeline. He felt only vaguely aware of things, both drained and exhilarated at the same time. He didn't know what that… explosion had been, but he was sure he had somehow been the cause of it.

Slowly, he sat up and held Hermione to his chest as she calmed down. Once he felt that she'd stopped shaking, he pulled away slightly to look at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

Hermione nodded slightly and made to stand up, which she did with a hand from Harry, who did the same himself.

Without saying much, the two made their way back into the kitchen where they sat down, still trying to recover.

“What was that?” Hermione asked, finally looking up at him, eyes slightly glazed.

“I think that, somehow, I did it.”

“You did it? What do you mean you did it?!”

Harry shook his head, “All the time we’ve been here, I’ve felt this… pressure ever since we arrived, like something wanted to burst out of me. I think that, whatever it was, did so when the painting started screaming. And what causes a painting to scream anyway?”

“It’s all very peculiar.” Hermione frowned and moved to sit beside him, studying him anxiously, “Are you feeling okay? Are you still feeling that pressure?”

“No, it’s gone now. I just feel… buzzed.”

“Buzzed?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Harry hummed, “Yeah, there’s just something there buzzing all the time. Like static on the radio, you know?”

Hermione shook her head, “I really don’t understand what could have caused it. And you pose a good question about that painting - what does make something scream like that? It’s certainly the first time I’ve heard of it.” She shook her head, “Maybe this house really is haunted.” She gasped, her eyes widening, “Maybe you’re possessed!”

Harry looked at her shocked expression for a moment before he burst into laughter, “No, I think I’d realise if I was possessed.”

“That’s just what someone who’s possessed would say!” Hermione cried, before she launched herself at him, knocking him off his chair and landing on top of him on the floor. She then began using her fists to pound him on the chest.

“Get out of Harry you evil, loathsome little cockroach!”

“Hermione! Hermione, listen to me!” Harry managed to grab her wrists but was unable to stop the grin that showed clearly on his face. It disappeared, however, when he noticed the tears in his friend’s eyes.

“Hey, listen to me,” he sat up, bringing Hermione with him as he wrapped his arms around her, “I’m not possessed, okay? I’m not sure what that feeling is, but you’ll figure it out, as you always do, okay?”

Hermione smiled weakly, “I’m sorry, I overreacted.” She blushed, “I was worried about you.”

“Oh you were, were you?” Harry grinned.

Hermione looked at him and her heart fluttered in her chest.

‘He looks so kissable right now,’ her poor, stressed, hormone-run brain suggested. Hermione blinked at the thought and contemplated it. Did she even like Harry that way? Surely all girls thought that way about their male best friends at some point?

‘Don’t kid yourself,’ her brain told her again, ‘Harry's a good-looking guy and you know it, but you also know that he’s more than that. He knows you better than anyone, the way that you know him. He cares for you and loves you - no matter if you’re his friend or even something more.’

Hermione looked at him again, thinking. He was so close that she could smell his aftershave, and see the few spots of stubble he must have missed earlier that morning. Her gaze darted to his lips - his perfectly kissable lips - and she put aside all conscious thought and just went for it.

Harry, on the hand, was also gazing adoringly at Hermione. What no one knew - besides Ginny, that was, was the true reason he and the youngest Weasley sibling had broken up soon after leaving school. Ginny, after weeks of watching Harry and Hermione interact, realised that she couldn’t compete with their dynamic, with their love for one another. She’d taken Harry aside eventually and told him as much. He’d been confused, so Ginny had had to explain it to him.

She’d realised, before he had, that Harry was totally in love with Hermione Granger.

So, as they sat together in a rather compromising position on the floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry studied Hermione - her bright chocolate eyes, soft brown curls and perfectly poised, oh-so-kissable lips. Deciding that it was just as good a time as ever, he leaned forward and kissed her.

The moment their lips touched, sparks flew. Literally. The buzzing within Harry intensified, causing both his and Hermione’s hair to stand on end as if shocked. But neither noticed. Nor did they notice the stranger who walked into the kitchen and stopped dead-still when he saw them, grinning.

He cleared his throat, “Uh, excuse me, am I interrupting something here?”

The pair broke apart abruptly, blushing furiously. The man, however, stopped grinning when he caught sight of Harry, his face paling rapidly.

“Harry?” he whispered.

Harry stood, helping Hermione to her feet, looking at the man in shock.

“Who are you?” he asked, “How do you know me?”

The man blinked at him before responding, “My name’s Sirius Black - I’m your Godfather, Harry.”