AN: I found this challenge by reading someone else's response and have no idea if the account of the person who first issued the challenge is still active, but it was reportedly issued by MarauderbyMoonlight. Credit to them for the original idea.

Challenge

Requirements:

- takes place during the summer (after fourth or fifth year)

- Harry is at the Dursleys'

- Harry helps out a neighbour (you can decide how, but Harry must make a really good impression)

- the neighbour Harry helps out turns out to be the head of a country club that Vernon and Petunia just joined

- club is holding a dance/party/welcoming for Vernon and his family; head person insists that Harry come too

- Harry's neighbour is a relative of Hermione's as well, her family is attending the party too

- Hermione at first does not want to attend (she is too worried about Harry), but her mother talks her into it

- MUST END HARRY AND HERMIONE!

Optional:

- During the dance, Dudley gets a crush on Hermione, but is devastated when she spends the entire time with Harry

- Dudley can act like a total ass, embarrassing Vernon to no end, while Harry's the perfect gentleman

- If Harry and Hermione do hook up during the dance, Dudley accuses Harry of using magic on her and tells Vernon, who screams first at Harry, then gets in a fight with Hermione's parents, not knowing she's a witch too

Warning

Obviously this will be a H/Hr story. There will be violence and references to child abuse.

Disclaimer

Harry Potter and all associated characters, locations and what not belong to J.K. Rowling and whoever she sells the rights to. I have borrowed these characters, locations and what not in order to mess around with them. In some cases I have lifted a piece of dialogue or scene directly from the books as a touchstone. I do not own anything except the plot and I am not making any money from this endeavor. This applies to the whole story.

"Make sure you get back here on time, freak! We're not going to delay our dinner for you!" Aunt Petunia's voice screeched after Harry as he hurried out the door of Number 4, Privet Drive. This summer had been unbearable so far and he had only been back for a week. Nightmares of the battle at the Department of Mysteries had woken him up every night. His tormented screams unfortunately also woke his relatives who were less than pleased with that state of affairs and Vernon had let him feel it. The warning that the Order had given them at King's Cross was proving to be less than effective. Vernon just stood behind Harry with a cricket bat whenever he wrote a letter to the Order and Hedwig was kept locked up in her cage whenever she wasn't out delivering a letter.

Harry's only refuge from his relatives was to leave the house every day and walk wherever his feet took him. Like the year before he had to make sure that he got home just before Dudley did if he wanted to eat dinner. Come home too early though and his relatives would take it as a challenge to see how many ways they could come up with to insult him, his parents and his friends; after his experiences before his third and fifth year Harry had decided that he wasn't going to take a chance on the Ministry's reaction.

As he walked Harry tried to force his mind away from memories of what had happened at the Ministry at the end of the school year. Usually they lingered as a chill in the back of his mind, no matter how warm and sunny the day might be.

He wondered if the Order had posted guards again, like they had last summer, but no one had stopped him from going where he pleased yet. Probably because it would include talking to a mopey, useless git who got his godfather killed. With a shiver Harry forced that thought away again. It seemed like every time he thought about anything his mind was bound and determined to wander over to Sirius' death or the injuries he had caused to Ron, Hermione, Tonks and the others. I am so sorry, everyone. I should have never taken you along.

Harry's deepest shame was reserved for the way he had spoken to Hermione before they left and the way she had looked after that purple flame had hit her in the chest. Sirius at least made his own choice to go and rescue his idiot of a godson. I pretty much forced Hermione to come along when she tried to warn me that it was a trap. I really owe her an apology. I just hope that she'll still be friends with me, even if I wouldn't be able to blame her if she told me to get lost the next time we see each other. Another shudder passed through Harry at that thought. I wish I could just not think about this anymore, just blank my mind.

In an effort to distract himself Harry took a path across some fields so that he could force himself to concentrate far more than necessary on placing his feet carefully on the uneven ground. He barely even paid attention to where he was headed as he walked on. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other as the sun kept climbing in the sky. As a result he had no idea where he might have ended up when he heard a scream of pain coming from somewhere ahead and to his left. Harry's body dropped into a crouch, his wand out and moving, his muscles tensed to respond to possible threats in an instant. He realised that he had ended up in a fairly affluent neighbourhood. The houses were larger than the ones on Privet Drive and he could see carefully manicured gardens that would make the Dursleys drool with envy. Another cry of pain solidified Harry's certainty about which house it was coming from. What do I do? What if the Death Eaters came here already? As he thought of running away and leaving the screamer to his fate Harry's mind filled with an image of Hermione looking disappointed in him.

No. It doesn't matter. I can't just let someone suffer without doing everything I can to help them. If I'm supposed to be some kind of prophesied hero, I'd better start acting like it. Breaking into a run, Harry closed the distance between himself and the house. He tried to move without being seen, but wasn't sure how well he was doing at that. Guess I'll know I failed if curses start coming my way. Harry quickly made his way around the house looking for a way in. When he got to the back he found a patio with vine covered trellises over it. The glass sliding door that led into the house had been shattered. Harry could hear indistinct voices coming from further inside the house and carefully made his way inside. Following the voices he came to the living room where he saw three large blokes wearing ski masks standing around a downed man through the ajar door.

"Look, you geezer, if you just tell us where you keep your valuables we'll not break your other leg, yeah?" Wait. I know that voice. What the hell are Dudley and his lot doing here? More importantly: how do I get them to leave? If I can't use magic my best option is to overwhelm them. At least there's another door out of that room; I don't think I'd like to take my chances while they think they're cornered. Looking around the room he was in Harry spotted what looked like a brass bust of about eight inches tall. At least that'll do as a back-up plan. "Last chance." Harry quickly grabbed the bust and took a deep breath before barging through the door into the living room.

"In here! I've found them! They're in here!" he called out over his shoulder. Dudley and his gang jerked around in surprise. Harry could see the way Dudley's piggy, blue eyes widened in recognition behind his mask before his cousin took a threatening step forward. Desperately Harry swung the bust at his cousin who managed to avoid most of the blow. The bust was heavy enough that even a glancing blow knocked him on his arse though, much to Harry's relief. When he tried to get up Dudley was clearly woozy from the blow.

"Shit. C'mon, Big D. We need to get out of here!" one of the other two called out, sounding panicked that Dudley wasn't going to be at full fighting strength. Dudley's mates hauled him up and helped him stagger out of the room in a hurry. Harry didn't relax until he heard the front door slamming and then he knelt down next to the man on the floor. He looked old enough to be someone's grandfather and his face was twisted in an expression of pain.

"Sir? If you'll tell me where your phone is I'll ring 999 for you." Harry tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke to the man, not wanting to scare him.

"It's on the table in the hall." the old man gritted out. Harry rushed out of the room and soon found a handheld phone resting in its cradle in the hall. Harry picked it up and dialled as he made his way back into the room.

"Hello, emergency service operator, which service do you require?" a calm female voice sounded through the horn as Harry reached the old man again.

"We need an ambulance and maybe the police."

"I'll connect you now." There was a dial tone for a brief moment before a click resulted in an equally calm male voice.

"Ambulance service, what's the address of your emergency?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Hang on, I'll just ask him." Harry pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. "Sir, can you tell me your address?"

"30 Abbots Drive in Virginia Water." Harry repeated the address for the man on the other end of the line.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened, sir?"

"Um, I heard screaming while I was taking a walk and I found this house broken into. The sliding door at the back has been shattered. When I got in here there were three blokes threatening to break this man's other leg. I managed to chase them off by pretending to have more people with me, but the man they hurt is still lying here on the ground."

"How old is the gentleman with you?" Harry once again relayed the question to the old man next to him.

"Sixty-seven."

"Thank you. Help is on its way, but please stay on the phone. I want to ask you a few more questions."

"Alright." Harry pulled the phone away from his ear again. "Help is on its way, sir. Just hold on a little while longer." The man gave a terse nod to show his understanding, but Harry didn't like how pale he looked. Harry put the phone back to his ear and tried to answer the operator's questions as best he could. He thought he was doing fairly well until the operator asked one that had him doubting himself.

"Could you identify any of the assailants?" What do I do? If I identify Dudley I'll be kicked out of the house. I may not like that Dumbledore hid all that important information from me for so long, but that shouldn't make me eager to give up on the protections I do have at this point. Especially considering I am apparently the only one who can stop that monster. So it comes down to a question of do I lie to protect Dudley and so protect myself from Voldemort or do I throw us both under the bus? Would anyone even believe the Dursleys' 'delinquent nephew'?

I'm not strong enough without the protection and there is no guarantee that telling the truth would help this man. I have to lie. It was a sobering realisation, but after what he had lived through in the Department of Mysteries it had become abundantly clear to Harry that he wasn't a match for Voldemort or some of his Death Eaters as he was now. Until I am strong enough to stand on my own two feet I have to lean on the protections others have given me, no matter how distasteful that is.

"Um, there were three of them. The leader was pretty heavy-set and his mates called him 'Big D'." Harry said, determined not to lie completely to protect his cousin.

"Did you see anything else that might have stood out?"

"No. They were wearing ski masks to hide their faces." Just then the front doorbell rang. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have to go now. It sounds like the ambulance is here."

"That's fine. You've been a great help so far. My colleagues will take over from here." Harry said a hurried goodbye as he walked into the hall before hanging up. He opened the front door and let the ambulance techs in. He led them over to where the old man was and stayed with them until they were loading him into the ambulance. Both techs praised Harry for his actions, but he truly felt that he didn't deserve it considering how much he wasn't saying about the assailants. Once the house was locked up and the ambulance had driven off, Harry started making his way home. It was already dark by the time he got back to Privet Drive and Harry was just hoping that the door would still be open, having given up on the idea that he might eat dinner a while ago. Thankfully the door opened on his first try. Thank goodness for that. I wasn't looking forward to spending the night outside. Harry's contemplation of his good fortune was abruptly ended by the impact of a meaty fist on his temple that sent him sprawling to the floor.

"What the hell do you mean by it, freak?" Vernon's voice hissed out from somewhere above him. "We give you food from our plates and clothes from our backs and you use your freakishness to hurt my son?" This was followed by a kick to the ribs that knocked Harry back down from where he had been trying to crawl to his feet.

"I didn't-" Harry managed to cough out before another kick silenced him.

"Don't lie, boy. Dudders already told us what happened. I would have thought that being dragged in front of one of your courts would have taught you a lesson, but I see that I was wrong. It's no bloody wonder that that world produces garbage like you if that's what they call a justice system." This was followed with another kick and another. Harry noticed that he was feeling two impacts at the same time. Dudley must want his pound of flesh his mind absently noted while Harry focused on curling up to protect his vital areas as much as he could. It didn't take long for the two heavily overweight Dursleys to tire themselves out, but they managed to do quite a bit of damage in the meantime. I suppose I should be grateful that Dudley didn't take up kickboxing.

Biting back a groan of pain Harry forced himself to get up and limp up the stairs. Trying to get something to eat would just give them a second wind. He collapsed on his bed and tried to take stock of his injuries. It feels like it's just bruises. They'll hurt for a few days, but at least it wasn't worse. Feels like they remembered to avoid my face again too. His stomach gave a final rumble as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

:-:-:-:-:

A few days later Harry once again found himself walking in the affluent neighbourhood of Virginia Water. In those days Harry had come to view staying away from Number Four as even more of a priority. The farther away I can get the better in fact. The day after his beating Harry had been cornered by Dudley and his gang. Nothing Harry had said had really convinced those thugs that he hadn't told the police anything about them breaking into an old man's house and essentially torturing him to try and discover the location of any valuables in the house. If they really wanted to simply get some money they could have taken anything. Even without searching for it I could see that most of what he owned was expensive. They were getting off on the violence and I am simply letting them get away with it. I think I was happier not knowing about that damn prophecy or those blood wards; not really safer, but definitely happier.

Harry still didn't pay a lot of attention to which direction he started walking in, but he certainly noticed that he was walking farther than he had the week before. Not like I can escape my shame that way, but at least it keeps me out from under the Dursley's feet. It is a little strange though that they haven't complained more. Usually they don't like doing chores they could pass off to me, but I haven't heard a word from them about that. Something must be keeping them occupied.

Today Harry's aimless wandering had apparently led him back to the scene of the crime. He looked up at the house where he had found Dudley and his gang assaulting the owner and briefly considered ringing the doorbell to ask the man if he was doing alright. No. If I showed up unannounced it would be too much like I expected something from him. Harry gave himself a mental shake and continued walking. He could hear a busy road up ahead and took a turn to avoid it. In his distracted state it would be dangerous to walk near so many fast moving cars. Harry continued walking until he became aware of someone calling out.

"You there! Boy! Hold on a moment! Blast it all, girl, go faster." Surprised, Harry looked around. Behind him he found the man he had helped a few days ago being pushed in a wheelchair by a young woman. The woman was looking fairly chagrined at at the old man's exhortions and Harry thought it would probably be best to just wait for them to catch up. "You're the one that drove off those hooligans the other day."

"Yes, sir. Are you healing well?"

"Bah, I'll be stuck in this chair with Nurse Ratched here for the next six to eight weeks; so I suppose not bad for someone my age." Harry looked up at the nurse in shock and saw a long-suffering look in her eyes.

"That's… that's good to hear, sir." Harry replied, unsure of what the proper response to something like that was. The old man waved his comment off with one hand while his eyes remained focused on Harry.

"So what brings you back here, hmm? Looking for another pensioner to save? Or just returning to the scene of the crime?"

"I don't really have a reason, sir." Harry shrugged.

"A lad your age just happens to be walking through such a boring neighbourhood?" the man asked in disbelief. Harry shrugged again.

"Better walking around than sitting at home." Something sharpened in the man's eyes at that.

"Can't say that you're wrong, boy. Would you be interested in doing a job for me that would keep you out of the house for probably the rest of the summer?"

"Yes, sir." Harry exclaimed without hesitation, wondering immediately if he hadn't perhaps been too eager in his acceptance.

"Excellent. I like seeing that kind of work ethic in a young man. Come along and I'll show you what you'll be doing. Let's go, girl, we're going back home." Harry saw the nurse roll her eyes at him, but she did wheel the chair around and started pushing it back towards the old man's house. Harry hurried to catch up to the pair. Once he settled into a walk next to the wheelchair the man looked up at him. "What's your name anyway, boy."

"Harry Potter, sir."

"Arthur Williams." the man grunted in response. Harry felt a quiet thrill at having to introduce himself to someone. I don't think I've had anyone react so wonderfully uninterested in my name in years.

"And you, miss?" Harry asked the nurse politely.

"Giselle Hartford." she answered with a smile. Harry gave her a tentative smile back and continued walking next to the wheelchair in silence. When they reached Mr. Williams house Giselle parked him on his patio and went into the house through the obviously repaired door.

"Hope you like vegetable juices, boy. The witch won't serve anything else, except green tea." Mr. Williams grumbled out in a tone that was just low enough that it wouldn't carry into the house. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was about to get some pumpkin juice in the muggle world. "Look over there and I'll explain the job I have in mind for you." the old man said in a more normal tone of voice as he gestured out into his garden. Harry's gaze followed the gesture and found a perfectly manicured lawn that was bordered on two sides by a grove of trees. The third side consisted of a large hedge and Harry could just see the neighbouring house rising above it. In the middle of the lawn was a stump of what must at one point have been a fairly large tree.

"That stump used to be a grand, old oak tree. It got toppled in the storm a few months ago. I got a gardening company to clear it away but they left the stump until I could decide what to do with it. I could swear the smug bastard felt like I should have been planning what to do in that situation for years."

"Language, Mr. Williams." Nurse Hartford's voice sounded from behind them. She placed two glasses filled with an orange liquid on the table and shot her charge a stern look.

"Bah! I'll curse if I want to, girl. It's a privilege of old age." Harry noticed that despite Mr. Williams' grumbling he was quick enough to take the glass of juice closest to him and chose to follow his host's example. It wasn't pumpkin juice, but the taste was pleasantly crisp on the hot summer's day. "As I was saying, boy, I don't want that smarmy prick around my house if I can help it." Mr. Williams paused and sent a challenging look at his nurse. Nurse Hartford only gave him an indulgent smile and patted his head like he was a large child causing his expression to morph into one of outrage. "Anyway, I want you to have a crack at getting the damn thing out of my garden. If you manage that we can see about having you put in the pond I've decided I want to have there. I'll get the girl to make you a lunch each day that you're here and I'll pay you at the end of the week. Do we have a deal?" Harry took another look at the stump and remembered when Vernon had tasked him with removing a considerably smaller stump from the garden at Number 4. It had been backbreaking and exhausting work and this looked to be an even tougher task. Perfect.

"When can I start, sir?"

"Hah! Tomorrow morning if you like. I'll give you the key to the garden shed so you can get at the tools. You can start around eight. Nurse Nightmare should be up then, even if I might not be." After he had finished his juice Harry bid Mr. Williams and Nurse Hartford goodbye and noted the time. He would have to know exactly how far the walk was if he was going to be on time tomorrow.

Over the next few weeks Harry settled into his new routine. At first he snuck out of Number 4 around six in the morning to make the two hour trek to Virginia Water. That had changed when he had overslept and had jogged as much of the distance as he could. Realising that he had found another way to exhaust himself into a hopefully dreamless sleep, Harry began jogging the five mile distance between the two houses twice a day. When he arrived at Mr. Williams' house he would usually find Nurse Hartford, or Giselle as she had insisted he call her, cleaning or enjoying a quiet cup of tea before heading up to help her acerbic employer start his day. She had managed to get Harry to admit that he usually didn't eat breakfast when she had heard his stomach growl one morning and, after scolding him thoroughly for neglecting his body like that, made sure that she had something nutritious waiting for him from then on. After breakfast Harry would get to work and fight his way through the roots of the old oak tree with spade and axe. At some point during the morning Mr. Williams might come out and watch him work or read a book. When the sun reached the peak of its journey across the skies Harry would be called in for lunch, which was eaten under Giselle's watchful eye. Harry was usually grateful for the break as he tended to get fairly warm while he worked. He knew that he could counter that to some extent by wearing a shorts and a t-shirt or even taking his shirt off, but he didn't want to get caught in a conversation about the scars, both magical and mundane, that littered his body.

Over lunch Mr. Williams would usually share some stories of his time with Her Majesty's Navy. After five years of life threatening situations in the magical world, Harry felt he could relate a little to some of the stories about combat, but he enjoyed the descriptions of far away places most of all. After lunch Harry would get back to work and Giselle would usually take Mr. Williams out for a walk. Harry preferred to work as long as possible though he had learnt to restrain himself to stopping at six o'clock at the latest and then heading home after a rewarding cup of tea with Giselle and Mr. Williams to avoid strange looks and awkward questions.

Once he had received his pay at the end of the week Harry had used it to buy himself dinner at the Queen's Arms, the local pub. He had gotten some queer looks the first day he had walked in, but after a few days he didn't rate so much as a glance and after a week and a half the landlord was starting to anticipate his orders. Harry was always careful to order the cheapest and healthiest option he could, usually the cod or the shepherd's pie. He had planned it out so that his pay would buy him meals for the rest of the summer and had been utterly shocked when the end of the second week brought with it another payment. His surprise at the money and his stammering explanation that he had thought that what he had received the first week would cover the whole of the job had been met with that sharp-eyed look that Mr. Williams occasionally shot him. In the end Harry had agreed to the old man's terms when the questions about why he wouldn't want the money started coming a little too close to what his life was like at Number 4.

Life at Number 4 had actually changed to the point where Harry was starting to worry. The Dursleys barely noticed that he was gone all day or that he wasn't eating with them anymore. They hadn't even noticed or cared that Harry was using the shower every evening as opposed to once every three days like he was normally allowed. There was now an equally good chance that Uncle Vernon would respond to being woken up by Harry's nightmares with a tirade and a single swat at Harry's head, which was less of a punishment than Harry had occasionally received for worse infractions. As a result Harry was constantly on edge around his relatives as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

After seven weeks of hard work, Harry had finally gotten the stump out of the ground. He had purposefully dug a slightly larger hole than the pond Mr. Williams had described and was now padding earth back into the hole to cover the protruding roots. A black tarpaulin had been delivered earlier in the week when it had become clear that Harry would finish his assigned task soon and Harry didn't want to see it rip and spill Mr. Williams' new pond into the ground below. When he had finished he eyed the position of the sun in the sky and decided that he would leave positioning the tarpaulin for the next morning. He stretched to remove the kinks in his back before cleaning off the tools and placing them back in the shed. He washed his hands under the garden hose and made his way over to the house to let his host know that he was leaving. As soon as he opened the door Harry realised that he was interrupting something.

"I'll not have a nurse following me around at my own club!" Mr. Williams barked stubbornly.

"Listen to me, you stubborn, old fool: you, need, help." Giselle was as close to losing her temper as Harry had ever seen her. Before another salvo could be fired, Harry cleared his throat drawing to sets of eyes towards himself.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm done for the day and that I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow." Harry said quickly, not wanting to get caught up in whatever the argument was; it wasn't to be.

"Harry, can you tell this bull-headed man that he isn't well enough to be walking around without help yet?" Giselle asked him in frustration.

"I'd never live it down if I showed up with my own nurse in tow. I'm not that much of an invalid." Mr. Williams repeated stubbornly.

"Yes, you are." Giselle snapped at him.

"Fine. How about I take him then?" Harry saw Mr. Williams finger pointing at him and resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.

"Harry's a good boy, but he doesn't have any medical training."

"It's a broken leg, woman! I haven't had a sodding stroke! All he needs to know is how to call 999 if I break it again and he did that well enough the first time around."

"Excuse me!" Harry yelled out having gone from frustrated to outright annoyed. "Would one of you care to tell me what you're talking about in between trying to make plans for me?" The two adults had the grace to look a little sheepish at that.

"Well, lad, I'm the Managing Director of the Foxhills Club and Resort. We're inaugurating a new member this weekend and I have to be there. This pill-pusher is of the opinion that I need to have a babysitter to make sure that I don't overly stress my leg. I refuse to be followed around like an invalid by a nurse and I was hoping that you would be an acceptable compromise, but you're quite right that I should ask you first. Would you be willing to come along to an incredibly boring affair so that the girl will leave me alone about it?"

"I don't think I'd particularly fit in at a golf club, sir." Harry said neutrally.

"Hmph. If you did, I wouldn't have invited you. I don't mind the members out on the links, but at these events they all feel the need to become grandstanding, pompous bores. It'd be a relief to have a normal person to talk to."

"You're really selling this thing." Harry told him drily.

"I'd pay you." Mr. Williams offered hopefully.

"It might be a nice way to close out your summer, Harry." Giselle interrupted unexpectedly. "You did mention that you'll be going back to that boarding school of yours next week, so why not have a last hurrah? You're only young once and you should take some time to properly enjoy it." Harry paused to consider that for a moment, though probably not in the way Giselle had intended. It would be a new experience. With Voldemort's return revealed I'll probably not get too many of those in the foreseeable future… well, not positive ones anyway. Now that Giselle's put it that way I'd almost feel like I'd be letting him win if I didn't go and I really don't want to let him have any victory I don't have to. Sod it, I'll do it.

"Alright. I'll keep an eye on Mr. Williams at this club thing." Harry told them with a decisive nod. He received two nods in return and just like that the argument had been settled.

"Excellent. Bring your shower things tomorrow. I've got a tailor coming by in the afternoon and he'll not want to measure you if you've just come in from working on the garden; prissy little sod."

"I'm not sure I've made enough money to cover a fitting with a private tailor, sir. I could just stop by a shop if you can recommend one." Harry answered with a frown as he tried to calculate how much money he had left from his wages and whether it would stretch even that far.

"Nonsense, boy, I'm paying."

"I can't just let you pay for new clothes for me, sir!"

"I'm not paying for new clothes for you. I'm paying your declarable expenses."

"Huh?" Harry felt a little confused though he was fairly sure he was being set up for something. "What do you mean by 'declarable expenses', sir?"

"Well, you're going along to keep an eye on me, right?" Harry nodded carefully, not seeing a trap in those words. "Then the fact that you need to look like a stuffed shirt for a night is my fault. Since this is technically a job and these are expenses incurred because of your employer's demands on you they should be covered by said employer."

"I'm not doing this because you're paying me, sir." Harry tried, worried that the old man, whom he had genuinely grown fond of over the past two months, thought Harry was only doing this for money.

"I know that, lad, but you also know that I'm technically correct and that's the best kind of correct!" The laughter in Mr. Williams voice finally made Harry give in with a rueful smile. He almost sounded like Hermione for a moment there.

"Alright, I surrender. I know when I'm not going to win an argument. My best friend uses that same line when she's got me cornered."

"Wonderful. I love winning. I'll see you tomorrow then, Harry." Shaking his head, Harry told his hosts goodbye and began his run home.

The next day Harry arrived at Mr. Williams' house with his toiletries in a plastic shopping bag. He started his day as he normally would and soon had the tarpaulin laid out in the hole that would become the pond. He covered it with few inches of earth so that the plants and fish that Mr. Williams had ordered would have something to live off of. The rest of the earth was piled around the edge of the tarpaulin, weighting it down so it wouldn't shift. When he was called in for lunch that afternoon Giselle took him up to the bathroom first so he could get clean. Harry had brought along his best muggle clothes and was sure that the tailor would be suitably unimpressed. Joining Mr. Williams and Giselle at the table, Harry thanked her for the food with a smile.

"So, Harry, are you excited?" she asked him once she was sure that he had started eating.

"I suppose. I should probably write down whatever measurements he takes so that I can save some time when I go get my uniform next week." Harry had decided that if the Order hadn't picked him up by the 28th he would simply take the Knight Bus and visit Diagon Alley himself. He would have gone sooner, but he still hadn't received his school letter for the year. I wonder if Dumbledore's been holding back my letter to make sure I don't wander off? A year ago the thought would never have crossed Harry's mind, but after the conversation he'd had with the Headmaster at the end of the year he couldn't help but be suspicious of the old man's actions. He probably has a good reason for most of the things he does, but he's trying to win a war while I'm trying to survive; I need to remember that our goals aren't necessarily the same. He was jolted from his thoughts by Giselle's voice.

"I guess that you're pretty interested in how much you've grown, hm?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Have you not noticed that you've shot up like a weed?" Harry looked down at his arms as he tried to decide whether they seemed longer than he remembered.

"I don't know?"

"Teenagers." Giselle huffed with a fond smile. "Just wait 'til you get back to that school of yours. I'd bet you'll have to beat them off with a stick." Harry's answering blush was met with loud guffaws from Mr. Williams. Harry's cheeks stayed warm until the doorbell rang shortly after Giselle had cleared the table, refusing any help from Harry. Giselle went to answer the door and when she came back there was a small, mousy man with her.

The next two hours were like nothing Harry had ever imagined when he thought about getting new clothes. The tailor took so many different measurements that Harry was reminded less of Madam Malkin and more of Mr. Olivander. At least he's not measuring my nostrils. After all the measurements had been carefully written down in a little notebook (and provided to Harry after a bit of wheedling) the tailor and Mr. Williams began discussing styles and colours that Harry had no real opinion on. In the end he told them that since Mr. Williams was paying the tailor to make the clothes they should get to decide what they thought would work best. He was surprised when that actually caused a bit of excitement in the old tailor. When he went home that evening, Harry still felt a little wrong footed by the way he'd spent the day. I'll just work extra hard tomorrow. That should get me feeling normal again.

Over the last days Harry arranged rocks around the pond to give it a more finished look and wedged the garden hose in between the first two that he placed there so that the pond could fill while he worked. He planted the various water plants where Mr. Williams wanted them and helped the man from the pet store release several koi fish into the water. That Friday he received his last payment.

"You've done good work here, Harry." Mr. Williams told Harry proudly as he passed over the money. I'll see you here tomorrow afternoon around three. Your clothes should be delivered by then and a hairdresser will stop by so that we can be groomed and whatnot." Harry's reservations about anyone trying to make his hair look halfway decent were waved off and in the end Harry just agreed to let the hairdresser try. What's the worst that could happen? If she can't make it work my magic'll probably fix it like it did that time Aunt Petunia cut all my hair off when I was seven.

When he was actually seated in the chair the hairdresser had brought along Harry wasn't so sure of himself anymore. The young woman had been staring at his hair, picking it up and letting it fall back down for more than a few minutes now. She was muttering to herself apparently coming up with and discarding several strategies for taming his unmanageable mop. When she finally grabbed her scissors with a gleam in his eye Harry decided to make his last wish known.

"Please don't cut it to make my scar too obvious." The hairdresser stopped and gave him an odd look.

"What scar?" When Harry lifted his fringe up her eyes widened for a moment before turning contemplative. "Not to worry, luv, I've an idea for that." Harry decided he was just going to have to trust her. An hour and a half later Harry was inspecting the results of the tailor and the hairdresser's work in the mirror. He was wearing a black suit, deep purple shirt and black necktie. His feet were shod in half-boots made of something that was just too soft to be regular leather. Harry hadn't asked what it might be as he suspected the answer would only serve to make him feel more uncomfortable. His hair looked like it had been purposefully tousled rather than like a mad bird's nest. The way his fringe had been cut didn't entirely hide his scar, but it broke the lines so it wasn't so recognisable. Harry nervously played with the cufflinks that had been included as 'necessary' accessories to his suit. I still can't believe I'm looking at myself. I suppose that the good news is that no one else will recognise me either. That should keep me safe enough for one night. Another thought crashed through his contemplation that left him thoroughly flustered: I wonder what Hermione would think if she could see me like this?

"Harry! Hurry up! The driver's here!" Giselle's voice came floating up the stairs, breaking him from his reverie. Nodding to himself Harry walked out of the room. "There you are. Oh, and don't you look handsome as a prince?" Harry felt himself blush at Giselle's fond teasing. "Remember, don't let that stubborn, old curmudgeon stand on his leg for more than forty-five minutes at a time. At least he should be willing to listen to you. Oh, and here's my number, just in case." Harry took the scrap of paper with Giselle's name and a number on it and carefully placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Thank you, Giselle. I'll make sure to call if something goes wrong."

"It's not just in case of that. If you ever feel a desire to take me out to dinner that number's there for you as well." she grinned with a wink. Harry felt the blush that had been fading return in full force causing the nurse to laugh happily at him. "Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to use it for that." Harry decided that he was thoroughly out of his depth and would be better off cutting his losses.

"Maybe I'll call you up for a cuppa when I get back from school." he offered instead. "Now, I'd better get going or Mr. Williams might just decide to leave by himself." He hurried down the stairs, trying his best not to look like he was fleeing from someone who had, aside from doing her level best to tease him into an early grave, treated him with more kindness than anyone else who didn't know his name before meeting him. Downstairs he found Mr. Williams dressed in an impeccable suit of his own, leaning on a dignified looking cane. The old man cast an evaluating gaze over Harry's appearance before nodding in approval.

"Alright, lad let's get going." Harry followed him out the door and to the car waiting outside. He waited to make sure that Mr. Williams managed to take his seat before walking around the car and getting in on the other side. The drive to the club was a short affair and Harry let his host dominate the conversation as he spoke about the history of the club and that it wasn't all that common for people to want a full membership anymore. When they arrived at the impressive looking building Harry hurried out of the car to help Mr. Williams up. The old man shot him a glare, but accepted the help nonetheless. The driver saluted and told them he'd be available to drive them back at any time and that they should just let the Maitre d'Hotel know when they wanted to leave. Harry thanked the man and followed Mr. Williams who was already heading for the entrance to the club.

As they entered it became obvious that Mr. Williams was the Managing Director. Everyone knew him and he knew everyone. Harry noticed that Mr. Williams seemed to know all the names of the staff and his respect for the man grew. They were led into the club's restaurant which was clearly set up for a formal event. Once Mr. Williams was in his seat Harry was asked to accompany the Maitre.

"But I'm supposed to stay with Mr. Williams to keep an eye on him." he countered, reluctant to parted from the man already.

"I know, but this dinner is members-only. Don't worry, the staff won't let anything happen to him and you can just eat with us. After the dinner we'll be moving the tables out of the way so that people can mingle and other guests can join. I think that's when you'll be needed to keep him from overexerting himself anyway." the Maitre tried to reassure him, but Harry still hesitated. "I give you my word that I'll personally keep an eye on him, but we'll just be making trouble for all three of us if you stay here once the guests start arriving."

"I should fire you for that." Mr. Williams huffed, though the smile on the Maitre's face gave Harry the idea that this threat wasn't particularly serious. "He does have a point though, lad. I can think of at least three idiots coming here tonight who feel very strongly that their membership makes them 'the right sort of people'. They'd cause a ruckus just to feel more important."

"Sounds like my uncle." Harry muttered. "Fine, but I'd better not come back to find you hobbling around because your pride wouldn't let you sit."

"I promise, lad. Now go with Jeremy. I can also promise you that you'll have the more enjoyable dinner." Harry nodded slowly and followed the Maitre out the door.

"So, like you heard Mr. Williams say: my name is Jeremy."

"Harry."

"A pleasure. You'll be eating in the kitchen with the serving staff." Harry could see that there was something else that Jeremy wanted to add by the way the other man was looking at him. He invited the question with a cocked eyebrow. "So how did you meet Mr. Williams? I've never seen him take to someone like he has with you."

"I've been doing some work in his garden for him."

"He invited his gardener to the club?"

"I'm just here to keep an eye on him since he didn't want to be followed around by a nurse."

"Harry, he has a whole staff here who could do that. He didn't have to invite you, he wanted to." Harry suddenly felt like an idiot. Of course he wouldn't actually need me if everyone here already works for him. Why did he want me here then? I'll just try to figure it out as I go along.

When they reached the kitchen Harry was introduced to the rest of the staff and did his best to remember as many names as he could. He had never really thought about just how many people might be needed to make a night like this run smoothly. He did his best to stay out of the way of the cooks preparing the food since all of them looked distinctly harried as they ran through the kitchen, doing their best to make sure that all the food could get out on time and still be good enough to do justice to the occasion. He listened to the gossip of the servers as they discussed the way the various members treated them. There seemed to be a range from 'pompous and insufferable' to 'kind, if a bit aloof'. Whoever the new member was, he and his family apparently fell firmly into the first category. Harry even heard one waiter snidely wonder if the man even knew the difference between a waiter and a butler.

The dinner took hours and Harry was starting to worry about how Mr. Williams was doing, but the Jeremy and a few of the servers were kind enough to reassure him that Mr. Williams was doing well even if one of the waitresses had confided with a wink that she thought he was trying to work out how to spill his soup in the guest of honour's lap and get away with it. When the dessert dishes had been collected, Harry was led to the restaurant only to find it empty of any guests as several members of the serving staff were rushing to get the tables and chairs out of the way.

"Don't worry. They're just outside watching some fireworks so we have a chance to do this without anyone seeing the actual work." Jeremy told him with a grin.

"Could you make sure to leave one of the chairs? Mr. Williams is going to need somewhere to sit sooner or later."

"Not to worry, we're going to bring in one of the lounge chairs once we've got everything out of the way. That'll allow him to look like he's sitting down by choice rather than for medical reasons. That should let him unbend enough to actually follow a doctor's orders." Harry nodded gratefully and turned his attention to the doors that led out to the gardens. He didn't know what to expect from the night but resolved to be ready for anything. Now I just need to wait for Mr. Williams to let me do my job. I can do this. He told me that it was just going to be a boring night. I can have a boring night. I might even enjoy having a boring night. All he could do now was wait for the evening to begin in earnest.

AN: I know it's been awhile since my last post, but as I explained to a concerned reader: that's mostly because I'm 'buffering' right now. I have several projects that I'm working on and those of you who've followed my stories know that I don't like posting something I don't have (mostly) completed. I hadn't realised just how long the gap was growing though so I wrote this to tide you over until my next fic. The second half will be up in a few days.

The Foxhills Club and Resort is an actual golf club in Surrey. It's family owned and as such the managing director is clearly no relation of a fictional character. I doubt he reads fanfiction, but it seemed polite to mention it.

The Queens Arms is also an actual pub that is an actual five miles away from an actual place actually called Virginia Waters; I have never been to either.

As always: thanks for reading.