Chapter 039

Harry woke up with rays of sunlight shining in his eyes. After blinking several times for his eyesight to adjust, the young 11-year old looked around and saw that, much like he had suspected, he was laying on the couch in Lisa's living room.

Also, much like he had expected, Lisa was still with him, curled up like a cat as she lay on his chest. Her arms were wound tightly around his torso, preventing him from moving much. Despite how the girl was a heavy sleeper, even the littlest of movements seemed to make her tighten her grip, as if she knew he was trying to escape.

Somehow, despite the fact that Harry had expected to find himself in this situation, he was still surprised. It had been a long time since he and Lisa had fallen asleep together. The last time it had happened was when they were nine. The Dursleys had gone on vacation to Italy and he had not been allowed to go with them.

In an act of incredible kindness, Anastasia Crawft had offered Harry a place to stay, since he would have otherwise been forced to stay with Mrs. Figg, a strange old lady who owned several dozen cats. The first night he had stayed over, Lisa had them staying up well into the night watching movies of all kinds—mostly Disney movies—and the two of them had fallen asleep on the couch together.

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.

The smile soon turned into a pout, and Harry didn't even need to guess to know what was coming.

"Though I do wish you would stop calling me Mrs. Crawft. It makes me feel so old. Perhaps you call me Anastasia." The smile returned with a vengeance, only this time there was a teasing glint to it. "Or better yet, why don't you call me mum?"

And there it was. This was not the first time Lisa's mother had suggested he call her mum, and it would most definitely not be the last either. Within the last year alone, Anastasia had asked him to call her mum exactly 652 times, which was exactly 16 times more than last year. She seemed to be increasing the amount of times she asked him to call her mum every year since they had met—he suspected her reason was due to his less than desirable living conditions.

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't dislike Mrs. Crawft. Truth be told he was very fond of her. She was everything a mother should be in his opinion; kind and compassionate, yet also firm when needed, and wise in certain aspects of life. She also had a slightly mischievous side that came out quite often. Just seeing how Lisa had turned out showed how well the woman was at raising her child. He had great respect for the woman's abilities as a mother and truly appreciated the hospitality and acceptance she had shown him.

The problem was that Anastasia was not his mother. His mother had died tragically, nobly sacrificing her life to protect his. It didn't matter that he had only known his mum for a year; that year had been more than enough time that no one could replace Lily Evans in his heart. He loved his mother, for the life she had given him, a life he would not have were it not for her. Mrs. Crawft could not compete with that, no matter how much he liked her.

Still, that didn't mean he was going to be rude. Even if Anastasia Crawft was being serious and not just jesting, he did like and even appreciate her attempts.

"So, do you need any help with breakfast?"

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