FicWad

Perfect
. . .

Hermione slowly awoke, the warmth of the covers causing her to snuggle deeper into them. With her eyes still closed, the young witch reveled in the simple joy of being comfortable. Slowly, the memories of the previous evening returned to her. Taking a slow breath, Hermione smiled softly, smelling Harry’s scent all around her. Reaching out with one arm towards the side of the bed, she frowned, realizing she was alone.

Truth be told, she was a bit disappointed not to find the wizard with her, as it would have been nice to snuggle for a while. Not that the fact that Harry wasn’t there was unexpected, quite the opposite actually. The other times Harry had stayed over had seen him up early and out the door. Usually after making the bed and straightening up after himself. Why would this time be any different, she thought to herself. It’s not like I climbed into bed with him or anything, she mused, still surprised she had done just that.

What had started as a quiet night of reading with a good bottle of wine by the fire had turned into one startling and possibly life-changing revelation. Possibly, only if she dared to pursue it. I love Harry, she thought to herself as a large smile spread across her face. The young witch couldn’t help but wonder why she had never figured it out before. It seemed all so clear to her now. Have I been that blind all this time? She questioned silently.

Rolling onto her back, she pondered the previous night’s revelations, going over everything from every angle as was her want with most things. It had certainly been an eye-opener, she mused. If Harry is waiting for someone like me, she thought, how can I convince him that he already has me? Thinking about her latest thought, she suddenly noticed the smell of food and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen.

Tossing aside the covers and sliding to the edge of the bed, the young witch stood and picked up her wand from the table next to the couch. On silent feet, Hermione made her way to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway at what she saw. There, his back turned to her, was Harry, busily working at something on her stove. What made her smile even more was that his body was swaying and gyrating to the music being played on the radio. Her eyes seemed to dip of their own accord. Has he always had such a nice bum, she wondered to herself.

As if sensing her presence, Harry’s head turned, his face breaking out into a large smile upon seeing Hermione. “Good morning, sleepy-head,” he teased. “I was wondering if I was going to have to come in and wake you.” Harry’s eyes slid downward slightly. “I guess that solves the mystery of where my undershirt went.” The young wizard’s eye made another slow and obvious pass from her face down to her feet and back up. “I must say I rather like this new look of yours, Hermine. Not everyone can pull off a t-shirt and panties look, but I must say you’re rather fetching that way, Miss Granger,” Harry said with a widening grin upon seeing his best friend's face go scarlet.

Hermione looked down at herself, realizing she was only wearing Harry's undershirt from last night and her panties. With a half-stifled shriek, she fled back to the room she’d come from, the sound of Harry’s bemusement following her. Finding her pants, she quickly pulled them on, trying to ignore the heat in her face. With a wave of her wand, Hermione sent the pillows flying to the cupboard in the hall. Another flick and the bed made itself before folding back up into the couch. A third flick and the couch cushions levitated to their places, and the small decorative pillows landed in their proper positions. Retrieving the empty wine bottle and glass from the floor, Hermione took several deep breaths to calm herself. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way back to the kitchen.

Harry turned from the counter where he was working on something as she entered. The wizard gave her an exaggerated pout. “You were much better before,” he said, adding “but still beautiful,” as he turned back to what he was doing.

“You’re a right prat, you know,” Hermione replied as she walked to the sink and set the glass into it before disposing of the empty bottle in the rubbish bin.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one walking around here half starkers,” Harry teased, as he continued working. “Mind you, I am not complaining,” he continued, reaching for a skillet from the stove and starting to add its contents to the plates on the counter. “I even said you were rather fetching that way. Do you have any idea just how many women would love to hear that from me?” he teased.

Hermione just harrumphed at his words as she slipped into a seat at the small kitchen table. She could hear the amusement in his voice and decided the best answer was not to answer. There were two settings at the table, each already set with a glass of what looked like freshly squeezed orange juice and a small bowl of diced fruits. Her place also had a glass of steaming tea. Quickly taking a sip of the hot beverage, the young witch sighed happily, tasting the honey that had been added. “Mmmmm, just the way I like it,” she murmured.

“I would hope so,” Harry replied as he placed the skillet back on the stove. “After six years in school with you and a year or so on the run, I would hope I knew how you liked your tea.” He added. Turning with a plate in each hand, he made his way to the table, setting one down before Hermione and the other in the place across from her before seating himself.

“What’s this?” Hermione asked as she tucked in. The plate had two eggs, over-easy, several strips of bacon, and some sort of bread covered in lumpy, greyish gravy.

“Biscuits and gravy, as the Americans call it.” Seeing Hermione’s arched eyebrow, he explained further. “A few months back, I was seeing this girl from the States, and she taught me how to make it. It took me a while to get the seasoning just right,” Harry said. “You’re the first person I’ve made this for, though, so I hope you like it.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, Harry,” Hermione stated as she cut into a biscuit and popped it into her mouth, only for her taste buds to explode with the overwhelming flavor. “Mmm, this is wonderful!” she exclaimed, going for another piece.

Harry grinned at her reaction as it was the same as his had been the first time he had biscuits and gravy. “It’s the least I could do, Hermione, after all the trouble I’ve put you through,” Harry added, holding up a bandaged hand and wiggling the fingers on it. “Besides,” he continued, “I woke up famished this morning and it’s just as easy to cook for two as it is for one.”

For several long moments, there was no sound other than the cutlery against the plates as they enjoyed the food before them. While looking down at his plate, Harry spoke. “I’m sorry about last night. I…I still have bad dreams about... well, about everything that happened,” he stammered in a softer, more vulnerable voice. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Hermione realized that Harry must believe that he’d had a bad dream and woke her, and that was why she was in bed with him. Reaching across the table, Hermione took his hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. “Harry,” she began, meaning to set him straight and tell him that she had been there as she hadn’t wanted to sleep away from him. A part of her was hoping to make that a permanent situation.

“I don’t remember the dream,” Harry continued before Hermione could say anything further, “but I think it was the best night's sleep I’ve had in a long time!” he stated, looking up towards her with a crooked smile on his face. “So, thank you for that, Hermione. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Well, thankfully, you’ll never have to find out,” Hermione replied, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his sincere words. Looking down to hide the blush she could feel spreading across her face, she noticed that her plate was surprisingly empty. Spying Harry’s plate, she quickly reached across and speared his last remaining piece of biscuit. With a deft swipe, she collected most of the remaining gravy there before hastily depositing it into her mouth.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed at the blatant thievery. “I wasn’t done with that!”

“Consider it payment, Mister Potter,” Hermione replied with a mischievous grin as she chewed and swallowed, “for services rendered.”

Harry looked down at his now-empty plate. “I’m not sure that the services rendered were worth the cost of that last bit of heaven,” he said in a disheartened tone before sighing dejectedly.

“Then I shall just have to make up for it,” Hermione replied, trying to keep a straight face. She could see the humor shining in Harry’s eyes. “I’ll do the dishes,” she declared before raising her wand and giving it a flick.

Harry turned in his seat to watch the skillet fly to the sink and the brush begin to clean it. Turning back to face Hermione, he said, “While that hardly seems fair. I slave over a hot stove making breakfast from scratch, and you get to flick your hand and we’re even?”

Hermione quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth and stop the snort of humor she was sure would have escaped otherwise upon hearing his surely tone. “What would you suggest then?” the young witch asked playfully, once she had control of herself again.

“I don’t know,” began Harry, as one hand rose to rub thoughtfully at his chin. “Those were pretty damn good biscuits. Made from scratch, mind you,” he exclaimed earnestly. “It would have to be something magnanimous to offset the balance.”

“Language, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said in her best Professor McGonagall impression. “We need to check those,” she added with a nod to the bandage on Harry’s hand. While she greatly enjoyed their banter, she was far more concerned about his health.

“Way to ruin the fun, Hermione,” Harry said playfully before doing the mature thing and sticking his tongue out at her as she got up to go get fresh bandages.

Hermione returned with a small, dark brown bottle instead of fresh bandages. “I thought I had some dittany, but I forgot where it was last night,” she said as she moved her chair closer to Harry’s. “It was in my nightstand of all places,” she continued as she sat. In short order, the bandages were removed and the dittany was applied, and Harry’s hands looked almost as good as new. “So, what are your plans for today?” Hermione asked as she placed the stopper back in the bottle of dittany.

“Nothing major,” Harry replied, looking at his healed hand and flexing the fingers several times to make sure everything functioned as it should. “I’ll probably go through my fan mail as it’s been piling up for a few days.”

“Fan mail?” Hermione scoffed in disbelief.

“You’d be surprised,” Harry assured her. “Even after all this time, I get loads of it, though these days it’s primarily eligible members of the fairer sex looking to throw themselves at The-Boy-Who-Lived,” he added, not bothering to hide his dislike of the fact.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Hermione said, realizing it was a sore topic for him. “Why…don’t you come with me?” Hermione hesitantly asked. “I promised Mum and Dad I would come see them today,” she explained at Harry’s questioning look.

“How are Dan and Emma doing?” Harry asked.

“They are fine,” Hermione replied. “Dad said he’s looking forward to playing more pinochle with you.”

Harry snorted humorously, “He just wants to fleece me for more money!”

“I warned you about playing a pound a point with him,” Hermione reminded Harry. It wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t listened to her and had all but lost his shirt to the more experienced player. “Be thankful he allowed you to make payments on what you owed.”

“He wanted to charge me interest!” Harry exclaimed in mock outrage. “I swear he hustled me and now he wants to kick me while I’m down,” Harry exclaimed. Seeing the hopeful expression on Hermione’s face, there was only one answer he could give her. “Sure, sounds like fun,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

-oOo-

The hour was late when there was the crack of apparition outside Hermione’s house, followed by the front door opening, and the young witch entering. Directly after her, still complaining, came Harry. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me, Mione,” he whined while closing the door. “I expected it from your father, but not from you!”

“Mum warned you when you chose her for your partner,” Hermione replied. “It’s not my fault you decided you knew better, Harry,” she added as she took off her coat and handed it to the waiting wizard, who placed it in the cupboard by the door. “One of these days, you’ll learn to listen to us Granger women.”

“I thought by breaking up their team I’d stand a chance to earn back some of the pounds I lost,” Harry explained his reasoning as he hung up his coat and closed the cupboard door. With a casual wave of his hand, the fireplace roared to life, illuminating the room and providing some much-needed warmth. “At least you waited until the last hand to extract that favor from me.”

Hermione chuckled in amusement. “If I had been doing it every hand, you would be owing me favors for the rest of your life with the way you were playing,” she stated. It had been a relatively great day at her parents’ house. They arrived in the early afternoon, had a nice dinner, and spent some time just chatting. Then the cards came out. She knew Harry’s bluster was all in good fun though. It was something that she found rather endearing actually. Hermione’s mum and dad adored Harry and were always happy when he was able to stop by.

“Thanks for today,” Harry said as he seated himself on the couch, one leg drawn up under him, his body turned slightly towards the side so he was facing her. “It was one of the better days I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted.

“Better days?” Hermione asked questioningly as she sat at the other end of the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against the arm of the sofa, and her toes pointed at Harry. “An entire day spent with me isn’t perfect?” she added with a grin to show she was teasing him.

“You forget, I’m Harry Potter! There’s no such thing as a perfect day for me,” Harry replied. “Despite what the Prophet and Witch Weekly would have you believe, my day-to-day is not all sunshine and rainbows.”

“Yes, we mustn't forget all the hordes of eligible women you need to fight off each day,” Hermione stated with a chuckle. Hermione well knew how women threw themselves at Harry due to his fame. She also knew just how much Harry hated his fame. They had talked about it, and once, while Harry was in his cups, the young wizard let slip that he had come close to casting a fidelius charm on himself. He had later said that the one reason he hadn’t was because of her, and not wanting to lose her. She has pointed out that she could have been the secret keeper, and he had just laughed as he had forgotten entirely that he could do that. To this day, it was still probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.

“Dreadfully dangerous work that is,” Harry answered in a serious tone. “No telling when one of them might go dark and decide to kidnap He-Who-Conquered!” he concluded. “So, no perfect days for me, but this one was close,” Harry assured Hermione.

Hermione offered him a smile, glad he was able to come with her and have a relaxing day for a change. “So, about that favor,” she opened with a small, mischievous smile. Can I collect on it right now?”

“It is yours to use whenever you want, Mione,” he replied, a bit curious what she was going to ask for.

“Well,” she began, “work has been rather stressful lately. I could use a massage,” she stated, looking towards the wizard across from her. Honestly, the day had been rather stressful, at least for her. Now aware of her feelings for Harry, she found it rather challenging to keep her hands off him. It didn’t help that her parents had been right there and never seemed to leave the two of them alone the entire day. It’s not like I was going to jump him right there in their house, she silently growled in her head.

Harry arched a brow in surprise and thought for a moment before replying. “I’m no Masseur or anything, Hermione, but I can give it a try.” Harry slid down to the floor, his legs out before him, with his back against the couch for support. “Come, sit here,” he requested, parting his legs and patting the carpet between them.

“One moment,” Hermione requested before disappearing down the hall and into her bedroom. It wasn’t long before she returned wearing pajama bottoms and Harry’s undershirt. “It’s more comfortable this way,” she provided upon seeing his questioning look. Hermione noticed that Harry had removed his shoes and rolled up his sleeves, making himself comfortable as well.

“What, no panties this time?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hermione fired back as she took a seat between Harry’s legs as instructed. The young witch nearly missed his whispered reply of maybe.

Once Hermione was situated, Harry reached out and began to massage her shoulders and neck. “Wow, you’re really tense, Hermione,” he told her. “You shouldn’t let work get to you this much,” he gently scolded her, worried for her health and well-being. “Am I going to have to come over more often to take care of you?” Harry asked.

“You say that as if it were a bad thing,” Hermione replied.

“Not a bad thing,” Harry answered. “I just worry about you.”

The witch had to bite her lip to keep from moaning aloud. Work was stressful, and Harry was doing a marvelous job of finding all the kinks and knots in her muscles. Though if she was being truthful with herself, work was not the only reason she was currently tense. Harry was touching her in what some would call an intimate way, or at least far more intimate than they ever had before. A low moan escaped her as he hit a particularly sore spot. “That feels wonderful, Harry,” she said encouragingly.

Harry moved his hand down along Hermione's spine and slowly worked his way back up, causing another moan of pleasure from the witch. As he progressed, he realized with a slight start that Hermione wasn’t wearing a bra at the moment. His friend's little moans of pleasure were also doing strange things to him. Harry, despite what some would say, was not clueless. Throughout the day, Hermione had been far more affectionate than usual. Rubbing his back, holding his hand, small touches on the arm now and then. He had more than once caught the Grangers giving each other knowing looks.

For a while, there was no other sound in the room but the crackle of the fire, an occasional moan of pleasure, and the rustle of cloth as Hermione slowly turned into a puddle of goo under Harry's administrations. Harry lost himself in his task, his hands running over the body before him while he tried desperately not to allow his mind to wander into thoughts of his braless friend, thoughts which he had resolutely avoided over the years.

“Enough, Harry,” Hermione finally said, her voice catching the young wizard by surprise and breaking him from the near-trance state he had been in. “Any more and I am likely to fall asleep right here on your lap.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Harry assured her, glad he could do this for her.

“You’re far too sweet, Harry,” Hermione stated, moving over onto her hip and twisting her torso until she could rest her head against Harry’s shoulder, her chest against his. Her arms slid down and wrapped themselves around Harry, even as she felt his arms slide around her, only to pull her in closer to him.

For a long time, they sat as such, each holding the other and enjoying the warmth and closeness they shared. The fire crackling was the only sound in the room. Harry thought that perhaps Hermione had dozed off, but she suddenly spoke.

“This is nice,” she said in a soft, dreamy voice.

Harry could hear the contentment in her voice. “Very,” he agreed, turning his head sideways and laying it atop hers to gaze at the fire with her.

The young witch finally voiced the question she had been wondering for the better part of the day. “Harry, why didn’t we ever date while at Hogwarts?”

“And get between you and Ron,” Harry chuckled, sidestepping the question. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Prat,” Hermione replied with a grin, “but you didn’t answer my question, Harry.” Hermione snuggled in a bit more, her arms tightening a bit as if to make sure he couldn’t get away from her. “I’m serious,” she said, only to feel Harry draw in a breath to answer her. “If you say what I think you’re going to say, I will smack you!” she threatened.

Harry chuckled and decided not to say that she didn’t look like a mangy dog. It was several long minutes before he answered her initial question. “I didn’t have much of a loving childhood, as you know. Growing up, all I wanted was a friend; it was a pretty lonely time. Dudley and his group made sure I didn’t get one, of course. Then I met you and Ron on the express, and suddenly I had friends that Dudley couldn’t intimidate away. It was like a dream come true,” Harry said.

“I was happy enough just to have both of you. At that age, I didn’t dare ask for more,” Harry added. “As time passed and we grew older, everyone said that you and Ron liked each other. That’s why you were always arguing like a married couple they would say,” he explained. “You were both my friends, and I was happy that you liked each other. Why would I want to get in the way of your happiness?”

“You didn’t have feelings for me?” Hermione dared to ask, both hopeful and fearing his response.

“Hell, Monie, I was a snot-nosed teenager at the time, what did I know about feelings or relationships?” Harry answered. “I can tell you this much, you were damn beautiful at the ball in our fourth year.” For once, Hermione didn’t call him on his use of language. “By then, Ron had already shown that he wasn’t my best friend. He could be a good friend at times, but he wasn’t my best friend. You were,” Harry simply stated. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was something to jeopardize our friendship, Hermione,” Harry said, his arms tightening slightly around her unknowingly.

“I don’t think you ever could, Harry,” she was quick to reassure him, her arms tightening their hold just a bit more. Hermione wasn’t shocked at his words. There had been a time when she had considered both Harry and Ron as boyfriend material. At the time, like Harry, she hadn’t been willing to risk losing their friendship. While it certainly would have hurt to lose Ronald, a fact she would confirm years later, even at a young age, she knew that losing Harry would be devastating. Looking back, she could admit that her younger self had gone with the easier choice instead of the right one. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, she reminded herself.

The two sat in comfortable silence for some time. A log shifted in the fireplace, falling and causing a shower of sparks to rise briefly. “It’s getting late,” Harry finally said. “We both have work tomorrow. Can’t have the Minister for Foreign Liaisons coming in late and looking half asleep.”

“Don’t remind me,” Hermione groaned, causing the wizard to grin. “Don’t wanna move. Too comfortable,” Hermione mumbled in a childish voice before turning her face into his chest and snuggling in closer. “We can call out sick,” she suggested.

Harry chuckled softly, not believing his ears. “Did Hermione Granger just suggest we have a lie-in?” Harry asked. The witch in his lap stayed suspiciously quiet. Turning his head, he gently kissed the top of her head before saying, “Come on, Miss Granger. Let's be the responsible adults everyone always thinks we are.”

“You’re no fun, Mister Potter,” Hermione complained as she nonetheless forced herself to sit up.

Harry stood and offered Hermione a hand up, which she took. “Regardless of that, this was a fun day,” Harry said.

“Just not perfect?” Hermione asked with a small grin.

“Well,” Harry replied with an answering grin and a slight shrug before Hermione stepped in and wrapped him in a hug.

The two stood holding each other for a long minute. “We need to do this more often,” Hermione said softly.

“As often as you like, Mione,” Harry replied without a moment's hesitation, causing the witch in his arms to smile. “I’d best be going,” Harry said after a minute, “or I’ll end up spending another night here. Chins will start to wag about propriety and how the Boy-Who-Lived took advantage of a witch’s virtue or some such rubbish.”

“Let them wag,” Hermione replied, enjoying their closeness for as long as she could. Harry would stand there for as long as she needed him to, she knew. Who was he to complain if a beautiful woman wanted to hold him, she theorized to justify her actions? Reluctantly, Hermione stepped back, releasing her best friend. “You better go before I force you to cough up another favor.”

“Merlin forbid!” Harry gasped in mock horror, causing Hermione to giggle at his antics. The wizard retrieved his coat and, after slipping it on, made his way to the door, where he paused, his head turning back to look at Hermione. “See you later?”

“We work in the same building, so I think that is a safe bet,” she replied with a grin.

Harry gave her a lopsided smile. “Night then,” he said before opening the door, stepping out, and closing it behind himself.

Hermione felt his absence as soon as the door had closed. Walking over, she threw the lock on the door before turning about and leaning against it. “What the hell am I doing?” she asked herself in a soft whisper. The sudden knock on the door behind her startled her. He must have forgotten something, she thought as she unlocked the door and opened it. “Miss me already, or did you forget something?” she asked upon seeing Harry standing there.

“Yes, and two things, actually,” Harry replied. Upon seeing Hermione’s questioning expression, he continued. “I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night?”

Hermione was pretty sure it was after midnight. “You mean today?” she asked to clarify, looking behind the door at the grandfather clock and seeing it was a little after one in the morning.

“Yes,” Harry was quick to agree. “You see, I have two tickets to a show called Wicked, and I was thinking that it might be nice if you and I went to see it. You know, as a couple,” Harry quickly explained, his voice slightly on the nervous side.

“You want to take me to a show?” Hermione asked in disbelief. Never had she ever thought that Harry would ask her this when she was opening the door. Harry nodded in agreement. “You mean as a couple?” Hermione asked to clarify as her brain tried to process what was happening. Again, the wizard nodded that she was correct. “Harry, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Apparently, I’m mucking it up rather spectacularly,” Harry nervously replied before continuing, “but yes, I am asking you, Hermione, if you would like to go on a date with me to see a show tonight.”

Hermione’s brain finally kicked back into gear as a large smile lit up her face. “Yes, Harry. I would love to go on a date with you tonight,” she finally managed to say.

“Really?” Harry exclaimed almost as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Hermione was quick to nod in agreement. “That’s awesome! Pick you up around six? We could have dinner before the show?”

“That sounds lovely, Harry,” Hermione replied, her smile never dimming.

“Okay, see you then,” Harry said, turning to leave.

“I thought you said there were two things?” Hermione’s words stopped the young wizard in his tracks.

Harry turned back, mumbling to himself, “Damn near forgot the most important part,” he said before stepping up to the witch and into her personal space. Green eyes met brown, and they held each other's gazes for a moment before Harry leaned in, stopping just short of Hermione’s lips.

As Harry leaned in for what could only be a kiss, Hermione couldn't help but wonder for an instant if she had indeed fallen asleep on Harry and if this was all a dream. If it is, please don’t ever let me wake, she told herself as she closed the remaining distance between their lips.

The kiss was gentle and as soft as falling snow. It was everything Hermione had ever dreamed it would be, and yet it was at the same time ever so much more. There was a tenderness in the kiss that moved her heart and warmed her very soul. Their lips played softly upon each other, as they took turns peppering each other with affection in the form of small kisses as if neither wanted the moment to end.

To the two of them, the kiss seemed to go on forever, and yet when it finally ended, neither felt that it had been nearly long enough. They stood embracing each other, their foreheads together, eyes remaining closed as each wore what could only be called a silly grin. Harry breathed out, his breath caressing Hermione's lips as he said, “Now it’s perfect.”

Harry finally stepped back a few paces, realizing he was keeping Hermione from bed and probably some much-needed rest. The two shared a knowing smile. Things had changed between them, but it was for the better, they both felt. Harry gave a slight nod, which Hermione returned before the wizard apparated away.

Hermione slowly closed the door and locked it before turning about and once again leaning against the door. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she took a step away from the door and promptly started to run in place, her arms pumping up and down, her head swinging side to side, her mouth open in a silent scream as if she were at some sporting event and her team had just scored the winning goal. In a sense, she had, and it was truly perfect!

Author's Note:
It has certainly been a while since I last posted anything, so please be lenient if my writing is not up to its usual snuff.. I was rereading my story “Waiting” when this came to be. I am sure everyone had their own ideas of what would have happened the following morning in Waiting, but I thought I would share what mine was, or what the Muse provided to me. Leave me a comment and let me know what you think of it. ~EJ

All characters within this story, unless otherwise stated are the sole property of J. K. Rowling the original writer of the Harry Potter series.