Harry Potter and the Gift of Memories [Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter IX: The Hardest Part is Saying Goodbye

That was also the first time he had woken up to find Mrs. Crawft taking snap shots of him and Lisa, to frame them on a wall that had many other pictures of Lisa—mostly baby picture—which she showed to her guests.

Lisa had never been more embarrassed in her life, or so she always told him.

Harry noticed that someone had put a blanket over them sometime during the night. He suspected Lisa's mum to be the culprit as the television had also been turned off.

Thinking of how Mrs. Crawft had most likely come in last night to cover them with a blanket reminded him of how he had been convinced to stay over for the night by Lisa. Yesterday had been the last day before he left for Hogwarts, which he had told the Crawft's was a very prominent boarding school in Scotland.

They had accepted his words without question—Harry suspected magic was involved somehow—and his friend had all but demanded he stay with them for the night. The two of them had then proceeded to stay up late watching movies, before falling asleep together on the couch like when they were younger.

Harry had to admit that even to this day he was not sure how he felt about waking up to find himself being used as a giant teddy bear. Uncomfortable because of how close this girl was and how deceptively strong her grip seemed, or warm because this girl, who was the closest thing he had to a sister, cared for him so much that she would stay up late just to be with him for as long as possible before he went to Hogwarts. He supposed it was a mixture of both.

Harry carefully shifted in the girl's grip, ignoring the way her arms tightened against him, then proceeded to gently tap certain points on her wrists and arms. The pressure points he touched caused Lisa's hold on him to loosen, and he swiftly removed himself out from under her and replaced his body with a pillow. Lisa frowned for a moment, no doubt sensing the lack of warmth the pillow emitted, but thankfully didn't wake up and just buried her face into the sack of feathers.

The first thing Harry decided to do after escaping was take a quick shower. Having stayed over at the Crawft's many times in the last three years, he had grown comfortable enough to use their facilities. These days Harry was practically considered a member of the family—even if Mr. Crawft didn't like him all that much due to how close he was to their daughter.

Absently, he wondered why Mr. Crawft disliked him so, but shrugged the thought off as the man just being an overprotective father. He had read about how some father's could get very protective of their children, especially their daughter's, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why. He would never hurt Lisa. Surely Mr. Crawft knew that.

Harry spent a good long while under the hot spray of the shower before actually cleaning himself off. By the time he was clothed it was nearing six a.m.. He could hear the sizzling of the stove and caught the scent of bacon wafting along the air. Lisa's mum was awake and cooking breakfast.

Moving into the living room, Harry saw that Lisa still had yet to wake up. The girl had changed positions and was now laying on her back. The blanket had been thrown off at some point while he'd been in the shower, and one of her legs was dangling off the couch, while the other was raised up on the couch's arm. Likewise, her left arm hung off the couch while her right lay at a slightly awkward angle behind her head.

With a shake of his head, Harry walked past the couch and into the kitchen/dining room where he found Mrs. Crawft cooking what he had already deduced from the smell to be bacon, eggs and hash browns.

“Good morning, Mrs. Crawft,” Harry greeted amicably as he walked up to her. “Do you need any help?”

“Good morning, Harry,” Mrs. Crawft said with a smile. She did not seem surprised to find him in her kitchen at such an early hour asking if she needed help. Why should she? This particular scene had occurred so regularly whenever Harry slept over that it was practically tradition.