A New Home

POV Oliver

"Emma, I'm sorry! You know I didn't mean it like that!" Oliver said in his most charming manner as he tried to casually slip into the seat beside her.

Emma stared at him, silently got up and moved to another seat on the plane.

Oliver quietly exhaled and followed her. "Emma, please don't be mad at me anymore," he pleaded in a whiny voice.

"You told the whole world I'm an opinionated know-it-all!" she snapped at him.

"You know perfectly well that's not what I meant!" he shot back before pausing briefly. "Besides, doesn't that fit the image your agent wants to build for you anyway? Smart, confident Hermione?"

"I am smart and confident! There's nothing to 'build up'!" she replied.

A poorly suppressed laugh came from the seat behind them.

Oliver closed his eyes. Jamie.

"What's so funny?" Emma asked, turning towards him.

Jamie sat up a little. "Nothing. I was just thinking about that interview," he replied, grinning at Emma.

"Which part?" Emma looked at him expectantly.

Jamie's grin widened. "You know, when the host asked: Which one of you is most like their character in real life?"

Oliver gave him a pleading look, but Jamie continued regardless. "And Olli immediately goes: Emma." Jamie looked at Oliver and imitated his tone. "Because Hermione also believes she's right about everything."

Jamie burst out laughing, and Emma got up once again to move to another seat.

"Thanks, Jamie. Very helpful!" Oliver snapped at him and followed her again.

Before he could bother Emma with yet another apology, Rachel stepped into the aisle and clapped her hands loudly twice.

"Okay, everyone, listen up for a minute!" she called through the cabin and waited until the conversations died down and everyone turned towards her.

Even Emma forgot for a moment that she was supposed to be ignoring Oliver and turned to look at her.

Rachel was holding several sheets of paper and could barely hide the broad grin on her face.

"The final numbers for the opening weekend are in."

The plane fell completely silent.

"310 million dollars worldwide. In a single weekend." She could barely contain her grin anymore. "At Warner, they're already talking about when we'll beat Titanic, not if."

Emma looked at Oliver and momentarily forgot that she was still supposed to be angry with him. "Didn't you negotiate two percent because you took a lower salary?"

Oliver briefly considered whether he should correct her. After all, the part about the lower salary wasn't entirely accurate. Warner, however, seemed to have presented it that way to justify the deal.

"Two percent of the profits," Oliver corrected her and decided to ignore the rest.

"Damn! That's still a lot of money!" Emma said, impressed, before apparently remembering that she was supposed to be angry with him.

She crossed her arms. "If you want me to forgive you, you'd better start thinking of an appropriate apology."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Appropriate?"

"A mansion would be a start."

"Didn't you just say you were smart and confident? More like delusional!"

This time, it was Oliver who got up and moved to another seat—and Emma who followed him.

***

A few hours later, Oliver sat with Peter in the back of a taxi making its way through London towards Mill Grove.

After the past few days, the mere thought of going home almost felt unfamiliar. No premieres, no television studios, no PR appointments and, hopefully, for at least a few days, nobody shoving a microphone in his face.

Oliver rested his head against the window and watched the familiar streets pass by.

"How long do we actually have off?" he asked.

Peter thought for a moment. "Just under two weeks. Then preparations for Chamber of Secrets begin. Line readings, first rehearsals, and filming starts again at the beginning of December."

Oliver closed his eyes. "So, two weeks."

A few minutes later, the taxi turned onto the street leading towards Mill Grove.

"What the hell is going on here?" Peter cursed.

There were people lining the street ahead of them. A few at first, then more and more the closer they got to Mill Grove. Some were holding cameras, others books, film posters or homemade signs.

Several police officers in high-visibility jackets stood among them. Barriers had been set up along the pavement, and two officers were keeping the entrance to Mill Grove clear while others tried to stop fans and photographers from spilling into the road.

Oliver slowly sat up straighter. He was already familiar with the photographers—the fans hadn't been there when he left. And there certainly hadn't been police stationed outside his home.

As the taxi drew closer and the first people recognised who was sitting in the back, the atmosphere changed instantly.

Fingers pointed towards the car. People began shouting his name while several fans raised their books and posters into the air.

WELCOME BACK HARRY <3

Oliver stared through the window at the gates of Mill Grove. "Pete. I think we need to move."

"Looks that way," Peter agreed as he watched the crowd. "Margaret isn't going to like this."

Oliver knew Margaret wouldn't like it. But Mill Grove was a children's home. The other children shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of his fame.

As much as it hurt.

I need to find a new home.

***

POV Sophie

I found a new home!

Sophie lay beneath her duvet, still unable to quite believe that the thought was actually true.

Mr and Mrs Thompson had told her the night before that she could stay with them.

For years, the two of them had taken in children who needed somewhere safe at short notice. Sometimes only for a night, sometimes for a few days or weeks until Michael and his colleagues found a permanent solution.

That was how it was supposed to have been for Sophie as well.

But this time, the Thompsons had decided that they didn't want to let the little girl go again. They hadn't simply told Sophie that she would be staying. They had asked her. Whether she could imagine this becoming her home.

Sophie had said yes. Very quickly, without even a moment's hesitation.

Now she lay in bed, running her fingers over the oversized Harry Potter pyjamas Mrs Thompson had bought her.

A few days earlier, they had watched the film together. From the very first moment, Sophie had barely been able to take her eyes off the screen. Diagon Alley, the Hogwarts Express, the Great Hall with its floating candles and, of course, Hogwarts itself.

But most of all, she had liked Harry. At least at first.

Because the longer the film went on, the more Sophie found herself thinking about what Mr and Mrs Thompson had told her about the boy who played him.

Oliver Bennett.

Michael had almost brought him to their home many years ago. He had been even younger than Sophie at the time and, just like her, had had no one he could stay with.

No owl came for him either.

Suddenly, it had become difficult to see only Harry on the screen.

When Harry sat alone beneath the stairs, Sophie thought about how Oliver himself had once had nowhere safe to call home. When Harry entered Hogwarts for the first time and finally found people who cared about him, she wondered what it must have been like for Oliver.

Except Oliver's story hadn't needed magic.

No Hagrid had come to collect him. No letter had told him that he was actually someone special. And no train had carried him away to a castle where everything suddenly became better.

And yet he had found a place where he belonged.

At some point during the film, Sophie had started wondering during certain scenes how much of what she was seeing was really just Harry.

And how much of the boy the Thompsons had told her about was inside him.

By the time the film was over, she hadn't only wanted to know more about Hogwarts.

She wanted to know more about Oliver Bennett.

About the boy who had almost slept in this very house. Who had once needed somewhere safe too and was now appearing on a gigantic cinema screen.

Harry Potter was amazing. But Harry Potter was a story.

Oliver was real.

And maybe that was what gave Sophie the most hope. Oliver hadn't needed Hogwarts to find somewhere he belonged.

Sophie looked around her new room and pulled the duvet a little tighter around herself.

She didn't need one either.

She had already found her home.