The Unwitting Confession-Chapter 3
Harry awoke sopping with sweat. His heart raced and he shook. He looked at his arm and saw the faint line still marking where Wormtail had drawn his blood in the ritual to restore Lord Voldemort to his body. There was a spasm in his stomach as he remembered how close he'd come to dying that night. He had to hurry to the loo in case he vomited. This was a whole new kind of anguish.
The feeling passed as he thought of Hermione's sweetly innocent smile after he kissed her the day they parted. How could an event so unrelated to Voldemort be the antidote for pure revulsion and disgust? Harry stood there pondering this question for several seconds until he realized that there were times that the loo was a tiny bit more confined for thinking than others.
He hoped that the noise he'd made rushing down the short hall had not awakened anyone. The last thing he needed in these early morning hours was to compound the lingering effects of a nightmare with the boorish rants of Uncle Vernon. He sneaked successfully back to his room and lie down in the dark staring at the ceiling once more.
`Nirvana.' That word suddenly popped in his head. Where had he heard that word before? Why when he thought of it, did Hermione's soft voice ring in his head? He shook it off. His mind tried to capture her voice and lock it in. Soon, he'd fallen back to sleep.
It didn't seem like very long at all when the sun sparkled through the window and into Harry's eyes. He couldn't believe it. After all of his days staying in this room, it had happened only once before. There was only one spot in his bed where the sun could rudely awaken him. Harry groggily sat up and shaded his eyes with his arm. "Dang," he thought, "and I was sleeping so well." He only left the shade on his window up when Hedwig was out prowling for a snack or he was awaiting a letter. He got up pulled the shaded down and collapsed back onto his bed.
He drifted in and out of sleep until he heard the door to Uncle Vernon's car close. "Six days until our trip to London, Dudley my boy," he said proudly.
Harry moved to the window and peered around the shade. He saw his Uncle, Aunt and cousin. Uncle Vernon backing the car out of the drive as Petunia and Dudley walked back in. "Duddykins, Marilynn will be by shortly to take us shopping for our holiday in London. Please get ready, dear."
Harry looked at his clock to see the time. It was just after eight. He laughed to himself as he thought of Dudley getting more stuff he would bang around and abuse. Harry wished he had half the things Dudley did, but if it meant that he would have to be like him to get them…Harry changed his mind.
Harry wasn't sure whether he'd fallen back asleep or just simply sat dazed for time between that last thought of Dudley and the sound of Petunia's friend Marilynn's nasally voice intruding on his blissful state.
"Petunia, are you going to get one of those sundresses we liked so well the last time we shopped? Or, are you going to get those adorable spiked heels?" she said.
"Sh, he will hear you," she whispered from just outside his door. He could imagine Aunt Petunia pointing disgustedly toward his door.
"Petunia why do you care what that evil, little boy thinks? Your sister-in-law Marge was right, if this boy is as inconsiderate as you describe. He should be sent off and never allowed to return," said Marilynn mean-spiritedly.
Harry laughed. He knew that Marilynn had only seen him once in passing and had not known who he was. So Harry took everything she said and let it run like water off a ducks back.
"Okay, ready Dudders?" asked Petunia.
"Yes, Mother," he said in a tired voice. Harry imagined how horrible it must be to be a fifteen year old boy being stuck with these two gems on a shopping spree. Harry sniggered, but covered his mouth when he realized it started to come out as a full out laugh.
The front door closed. Harry was alone again at last. He looked up at the calendar confirming what Uncle Vernon had said. He would be going to the Burrow on July 30th and returning on the afternoon of August 1st. Three whole days away from this place seemed as though he would be taking a trip to heaven. He hoped Hermione would be there the entire time. He didn't know that yet. For a brief second, that realization was a let down. "Ah, heck," he thought. "Ron and I'll have a blast regardless."
He repeated that to himself over and over. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. It was only partially true. He and Ron could have a good time anywhere, anytime;/ that was true. But, he wanted to make a memory or two with Hermione. He didn't even know what he meant by that. It was just a fleeting thought. `Nirvana.' There was that word again and her voice.
The fact that both Dudley and he were sent off to school each year made the Dursley home pretty much devoid of reference material. But after a long careful search, Harry found the dictionary stuffed on a dusty, old shelf in his Uncle's seldom used office. He looked up the word. "Nirvana," he muttered. "Ah, there it is." Nirvana: a place or state of rest, harmony, or pleasure.
He laughed nervously. Somewhere in his mind, a word so descriptive of the way he felt when thoughts of Hermione arose had just popped into his head from nowhere accompanied by her voice. It was almost a spiritual experience. He wondered where he'd heard it before. He had to have heard it, didn't he?
The rest of the morning Harry spent distracting himself with images of flying on the Quidditch pitch diving after the Golden Snitch and catching it. Each time he imagined a different way Hermione had leapt into his arms in joyful celebration. He wanted to feel her arms around his neck and feel her cheek against his. In a few, he imagined nervously that they ended with a full-on mouth to mouth kiss. He shook those off not knowing how he would manage kissing her without…how had Sirius put it? Then he remembered…without sucking her face right off her head. He laughed knowing that was unlikely to become reality anytime soon.
He shivered and moved on to gathering his things off the floor of his room. He hardly ever felt inspired to clean his room, but he'd had a daydream that Hermione was coming over to watch a movie and the horror of taking him into his room made him self-conscious. So, he cleaned it to the point of being able to eat the horrible dinners Aunt Petunia made right off the floor.
By mid-afternoon, he was exhausted. What was he thinking? There was no scenario in which he could actually see Hermione coming to 4 Privet Drive. He tried but couldn't imagine how he would let her even come near these foul people when they could spend their time in town goofing off. He realized that he'd never let her come there. He took consolation in the fact that he could now find his things easier when he went to the Burrow just few days from then.
He was lying on his bed with his feet dangling off when Hedwig appeared at the window. The blast of warm air reminded him of the air conditioning he'd taken for granted. She'd come back empty handed. Harry felt a sinking feeling. He knew Hermione had gotten his letter, because Hedwig would never have returned without getting it to her. He felt queasy again as if all his musings had been a waste of mental and emotional energy.
Through the rest of that day and most of that night, he lolled about hopelessly wishing Hermione were just down the street. He knew he was going crazy over her now. He felt ridiculous. Did other guys feel this way about the girls they liked? Or, was he some silly pansy? He stared off into the sky wondering what the alignment of the stars meant at that very moment. Did they foretell a future Hermione and him? Or, was his dream of being with her too insignificant for the celestial bodies to have anything to say on the subject at all?
A thought occurred to him for the first time. What would Hermione think if she saw him right now? What would she do if she knew that he was desperately, madly in love with her and he acted like this? What would she say if she saw him feeling sorry for himself because he hadn't received a reply to his letter in less than twenty-four hours? The answer snapped him out of his quandary. "She would be disgusted with a loser like him," he thought. This was exactly the way Ron had acted at the Yule Ball.
He straightened himself up and took a deep breath. She deserved a guy who would act like a man. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew that was right. He had a lot of questions to answer to figure out what it meant to be a man. But he knew acting like he would die without her was definitely not being a man. He could see her cringing if she knew he was doting on her like that. For God's sake he was only fourteen, soon to be fifteen and she would be sixteen in September. But he could act like a man by having some dignity.
Whether by magic or not, Harry never knew, but Hedwig started making a ruckus in her cage as if she needed to be let loose. He opened the cage and she immediately jumped to his outstretched finger. "What's the matter girl?" he asked. "Do you need to go hunting for food or stretch your wings?" Hedwig hooted enthusiastically in reply. Harry opened the window and let her fly. He remembered later that summer that she'd disappeared faster than she'd ever done before.
He drifted off to sleep. For some unknown reason, it was the most peaceful night's sleep he'd had that summer. His dreams took him to Hermione standing in a garden full of fresh flowers with her hair done like she had the night of the Yule Ball. Her eyes were wide and inviting. Her smile was broad and toothy. Her lips were pinkish and full. In his dream he half-expected Hermione to sprout wings and fly away leading him to heaven…to Nirvana. "Hi, Harry," she said.
"Hi, Hermione. You look spectacular," said Harry as his heart had moved to his throat now and pounded threateningly as if it could stop the words from escaping his lips.
"Thank you, Harry. It's very kind of you to say so," she said softly.
"What are we doing here?" asked Harry.
"We're getting to know each other, of course," she said.
"But we've known each other since we've been eleven," said Harry.
"Not like we do now, Harry," she said.
"What do you mean, Hermione?" he asked.
"Don't you feel it, Harry?" she asked.
"Oh, you mean the excitement…the love," he surprised himself. He'd said it.
"Exactly, Harry. It's been here all along and we didn't see it," she said.
"What do we do, Hermione?" asked Harry.
"Just what we're doing now, Harry. We enjoy our time together," said Hermione.
"Will they bring food to us in the garden?" said Harry with a smile.
"Who needs food when we have each other Harry," she said as she closed her eyes and kissed him.
He awoke with a start. Hedwig was at the window. His heart was beating so hard. He hoped he could get back to that dream. He opened the window, "Horrible timing, girl," he muttered. But a second later, his heart leapt with joy at the sight of the note and handwriting on Hedwig's leg.
Dear Harry,
Hi! I wanted to send a letter by return post, when Hedwig was here last. I didn't know if she understood, but I asked her to come fetch your letter tonight. It's a long story.
Harry, you have no idea how wonderful it is to know that I have such a positive effect on you. We've been friends for so long that sometimes I think you put up with me out of habit or because Ron and I are friends.
I have your present. I'm so excited to give it to you. I hope you like it. I had better be quiet or my excitement might make me spoil the surprise right here in this letter. (hehe)
I don't know why I can't study these days. Maybe it's the excitement that the summer really only begins when I get to Ron's in three days time. We only have time for maybe one more letter each before we see each other on your birthday. I'm so excited.
Well, I have to get to bed. It's nearly midnight and Hedwig's at my window. Good night, Harry. I'm thinking of you right now.
Hugs and kisses,
Hermione
"Ha!" shouted Harry with a smile that threatened to shoot his ears right off the sides of his head.
"What the devil is going on in there?" an angry Uncle Vernon yelled. "You'd better be quiet in there boy or we'll not be taking you to see those freak friends of yours this weekend."
Rather than answer, Harry jumped on his bed covering his head with his pillow. He screamed his delight over hear letter into it hoping that no one heard and half caring if they did.
"She likes me," he whispered to himself. "She really likes me." He wanted to do a little dance of joy but he knew he might make too much noise.
He reread her letter again and again. "Did she really mean kisses? Or is that just something girls say to let guys know they like them?" he thought.
He took out her other letters: hugs, loads of hugs, and now…hugs and kisses. He felt great. He went to his trunk, pulled out the quill and parchment and began writing.
Dear Hermione,
I just received your letter. I've never been so happy in my entire life. I want to run through the streets screaming your name at the top of my lungs.
I had a dream too. We were standing together in a garden and you looked as beautiful as ever. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. We kissed.
"Whoa, there Romeo," he said to himself. "You can never send that to her. Not now anyway. She would be freaked out. It was a simple giggly sixteen year old girl saying `hugs and kisses'." He settled down, folded that one up and put it in with the `do not send' pile. He began writing again only this time he would capture the moment a little more subtly.
Hi Hermione,
I was so surprised to be awakened by Hedwig at my window. If the letter had been from anyone but you I would have been disappointed at being woken up. Thanks for replying so quickly.
I am excited about my birthday party too. Have I ever told you I've never had a real one before? Well, this will be the first one. Presents? I never really thought about that. Yours must really be good for you to be so excited.
Have you talked or written to Ron? I'm looking forward to maybe fooling around on our brooms while I'm there.
As usual, your letter has me on cloud nine. I hope you know what I mean. It's so nice to have friends who are honest and caring like you and Ron. But you are especially so, thanks a lot. I miss you and I look forward to spending time with you at the Burrow.
Hugs,
Harry
Harry looked at the letter and felt satisfied, but not so satisfied that he'd send it right away. He wanted to sleep on the thoughts of her latest letter first. He left it unfolded on top of all the others in his trunk and went off to bed.
Harry never recaptured the dream of kissing Hermione, but he didn't have any nightmares either. He awoke at the normal time and stretched. He felt bold this morning so he braved the ill-will of the Dursleys and walked past them toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Vernon Dursley.
"Sorry, sir. I just thought I'd go out for some fresh air. Is that okay?" said Harry politely. Inside he hated to beg to go out, but he was taking no chances on being disrespectful just five days from going to the Burrow.
"Get on with it then," said Uncle Vernon. "Just don't do any you-know-what out in public."
Harry tried not to let the laugh escape his mouth. Uncle Vernon almost always said that when he went out. It was as if he had forgotten that Harry was prohibited from doing magic outside of school. He had to get out of his room. It was the first time he could remember being outside at this time of the morning in almost a month or more. It was certainly the first time he could remember while he was on Privet Drive that he'd done so.
He walked looking at the dew still settling on the grass as he walked past the finely manicured lawns of the surrounding neighborhood. The distraction of this early morning walk was having the desired effect. He felt calm and collected. He wouldn't go back home quickly, because unlike other days today was Sunday and the Dursleys would surely greet him with disdain when he returned. He didn't want his mood broken. Here, right now, he could laugh them off. Seeing it in person was a different matter.
He found the swings in the nearby park and sat on one thinking. What if I'm wrong about Hermione's letter? She's too in touch with her emotions to have written the way she did without thinking.
Harry couldn't decide whether he was on foot or a horse at the moment. It was confusing. Why was it so confusing? She was a bright girl with a smile he'd never noticed much until a month ago, but a smile, a peck on the cheek, and a lousy teenage salutation at the bottom of a letter didn't mean he should go nuts over her. He wanted to do that very thing so badly. He laughed as he got off the swing. "Harry," he muttered to himself. "Just write another letter somewhere in between the ranting one and the stiflingly ordinary one and be done with it."
Harry was glad that the back door to the house was open and the Dursleys sat in the living room. He was able to slip by quite unnoticed and proceeded to his room. He sat down on his bed with his quill and parchment and scrawled this letter.
Dear Hermione,
You sound so excited. I'm glad. I am too. It is going to be my best birthday ever. Part of that is because it's been so nice writing to you this summer. I hope you feel the same way too.
With everything that happened at Hogwarts this past year, our whole world is changing. My nightmares really are more manageable when I know that you think of me. That's the worst thing about them. I feel so alone. Enough about that stuff.
Do you think about what it would have been like if you, Ron and I had never met? I do every once in a while and it seems impossible that two people could have made such a difference in my life.
I took a walk this morning and just wanted to share some of my thoughts with you. I can't wait to see you. From your letter, I see you'll be there a couple days before I get there. Do you and Ron have anything planned? I'm jealous you know.
Well, I'm just rambling now, so I'll close and send it before Hedwig needs help carrying two rolls of parchment. (hehe) Thought I'd steal your idea of showing laughter. Take care and I'll see you in four or five days.
Hugs,
Harry
He copied his letter over to get rid of the smudges. He didn't want to get expelled for using magic to do it…not for something like that.
"Harry, get down here," bellowed Uncle Vernon.
Harry knew he didn't dare let an owl out of his window if Uncle Vernon was so aware of his presence. He quickly put his letter and quill back into the trunk and closed the lid.
"Coming, Uncle Vernon," he answered.
"About time Harry," said Uncle Vernon when he got down stairs. Harry saw the neighbor from across the street standing in the foyer saying good bye to Aunt Petunia.
"Harry, that woman says she saw you in the living room the other day watching our television while we were gone," said Uncle Vernon. "The woman's a busy body but no matter. I just want to tell you that that kind of behavior with our belongings will not be tolerated in the future. Do you understand?"
Harry couldn't believe his ears. It must have been a week ago or more since he'd been in the living room watching television. Even if it had been more recently, it wasn't a crime. He sighed again, swallowing his anger to ensure that he'd get to go the next weekend. "Yes sir, no television when you are not home," said Harry.
Surprised at his tone, Uncle Vernon let it rest with one final comment. "Good, we understand each other. See Petunia being firm with Harry works."
"May I go back to my room now?" he asked politely as he fumed inside.
"Yes," said his Uncle with a wave of his hand.
When he returned to his room, he put his head under his pillow to let off the steam that was building inside him. He screamed every foul name he could think of at his Uncle and made up some nonsense ones to satisfy his anger. When he pulled his head out from under it, he laughed. Then he sighed.
A half-hour later, Harry could not account for what happened next. He finished copying the letter. He took Hermione's and all of his ramblings out and set them on his bed. He saw a couple of the ones he had written that seemed fairly harmless now. Absentmindedly, he folded the letter he just copied sealed it and opened Hedwig's cage. He thought twice before he tied to her leg. He snuck to the top of the stairs and down a couple of steps to make sure that Uncle Vernon wasn't in the yard to see the owl take off. He was in the living room still watching the television. He moved quickly before anything could change, tied the note to Hedwig's leg and let her go. "Take it to Hermione, girl," he said. Silently this time Hedwig soared out the window and nearly straight up as if she knew to stay out of Harry's Uncle's sight.
With Hermione on his mind, he reread her letters and his replies. When he got to the last one he looked at the original that he'd just copied. With a sigh of satisfaction, he was glad he'd sent that one and neither of the other two. He looked for them now to get a laugh at his ramblings. He found the one that he'd finished the night before sitting on top of the stack he'd made of ones he might have sent if he'd not been inspired to write another. But he couldn't find the other one right away.
He went to the trunk and looked through everything. He saw one piece of parchment at the bottom and thought that it had to be the lost letter. When he picked it up he noticed it was just the scrap that he'd used to test his quill. He wasn't concerned for the moment. He looked under his bed. Maybe he'd left the window open and the wind had carried it under there. It wasn't.
Harry's heart pounded as the worst popped into his head. His hands patted his pockets in the faint hope that he'd put it there. He hoped it had simply been lost, but he knew better. Somehow, he must have put it in with his newly copied version and sent it.
He didn't know how he felt. If he hadn't innocently said he was jealous in the last version, he could play off the uncompleted one as a joke designed to tease her and that he'd decided it was over-the-top. The jealousy he spoke of was supposed to be the same as it always been-a remark pointed at the fact that they had each other and he couldn't be there. Nothing more and nothing less. He found himself wishing that Hedwig could read and would pull it from her delivery. He laughed nervously. He knew there was a better chance of Voldemort showing up and committing suicide in front of the guests. Which as the thought passed through his mind, he considered as viable alternative for himself. If she replied, he hoped she had taken it as a joke. If she didn't, he hoped she didn't avoid him at the party.
It was out of his hands now. He sighed and dreaded the humiliating nightmares he was sure would follow.
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