The First Day---Chapter 5
There comes a time in every young man's life where the power of love and sex collide. Some handle it differently than others and certainly the experience is unique. For every fifteen year old boy this happens to, there is a different story. For Harry, his began when he awoke sitting bolt upright aroused in a way no dream had made him feel before. It had been a simple dream kiss and no more than a touch on his bare arms. It wasn't the fireworks, but the anticipation of what came next that filled his mind.
He was exhilarated and ashamed at the same time. He sat in bed as the feeling faded slowly; he was thinking how he had sat in the common room with Hermione at least twelve hundred times and never noticed her like he noticed her now. Was he exaggerating? No, he thought, at least once a day everyday for four years while at school. He wanted to remember each and every one of them, but realized that was impossible-- even ridiculous. He laughed at his own silliness.
"I am so dead," he muttered to himself. "She'd kill me if she knew what I was thinking right now." He wondered how his dad had felt. Somehow he knew that if he were around his parents the thought might not have seemed so appealing. But as much as he loved them, they were a sort of Romeo and Juliet story in his mind and nothing more. "Why can't I live with Sirius?"
Eventually, Harry got enough sleep that he got up for good and began packing. He only needed his wand, the cloak, and his broom-and sadly, the letter. How was he going to get his broom to the Burrow without drawing attention to it? He decided to send Hedwig ahead with a note telling the Weasleys when he would be at King's Cross. He'd ask the question and see if there were any helpful ideas.
By noon, he'd finished. The only thing that spoiled it for him was that he wouldn't have time to buy some sort of gift for Hermione. He realized that maybe that was a good thing. He was going to have battles to fight on many fronts. How was Ron going to take the news, if he found out? Mrs. Weasley had not been pleased to see Rita Skeeter's articles about him and Hermione. She'd been relieved when he'd denied them. Poor little brokenhearted Ginny would finally have to deal with him wanting someone else. It was one thing to be pine for someone else who has no boyfriend or girlfriend. And quite another when they'd found someone. He'd found that out looking at Cho and Cedric the year before. Handing a present to a girl who is not your girlfriend would arouse suspicion in all of these people.
He busied his mind with reading over his letter. He gulped every time he read something that seemed like he'd put his heart on a chopping block and handed her the cleaver. It was as if for a second, he could feel it being split in two and death overtaking him. He could see himself as the mouse when he thought about it-the Cat shaking his lifeless body not really meaning to hurt him but just acting out of instinct. He didn't want Hermione to be defensive and need to pounce. He wanted to keep her in the game long enough to see his love for her.
Finally, after rewriting the letter for the fourth time, he realized this was a living, breathing document of sorts. It would never be finished. Each time he saw Hermione in his mind's eye, he felt or saw something different; but, it also occurred to him that the letter would change with every word he said to her and with every look or word she directed at him. He was screwed and he knew it. He laughed at the irony of it all. The face he longed to see would also be the source of great turmoil.
He was too tired to think about it anymore. He needed to get to sleep. The drive from four Privet Drive would be exhausting only because he had to share it with the Dursleys. He slept the same way that night as he had the night before.
When he woke up, he heard the commotion. That boy said he wouldn't keep us waiting. He looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. How had he let himself have a sleep in today? He raced around getting ready. He was grateful that all he had to do was shower, brush his teeth and dress. He'd already packed. He supposed that this bit of time was a blessing in disguise for twenty minutes later his mind was spinning out of control again.
Vernon Dursley was the epitome of torture and the devil himself. He could take the most innocent thing in the world, thought Harry, turn it into a crime and make you suffer for it. He had to tune out the pervasive insults by thinking of what lie ahead. Only was what he thought of any less torturous.
When would he see Hermione? Would she come to pick him up? If she did, would he even be able to look her in the eyes? If he could do that, could he keep himself calm enough to get through the trip back without blurting out how he felt or dying of a massive coronary or stroke at fifteen? He laughed out load which drew even more anger from Uncle Vernon who thought Harry was laughing at him. Harry had never been more thankful for the Dursleys' self-serving method of reasoning. They hated him enough to make him miss his own birthday party, but not enough to disrupt their plans.
The entrance to King's Cross Station was busy as usual. People from all walks of life were coming and going. He new he could find them one of two ways. He grinned at the thought. He could either look for redheads or for the girl who should have been wearing angel's wings. He saw both things almost at once. But something was wrong with the picture. One of the redheaded people was holding the angel's hand. No, wait. Both redheaded people were holding her hand.
Ron, Ginny and Hermione came running toward him. "Hey, mate. You are not going to believe the fun in store for you this weekend," said Ron.
Harry was struggling to keep the invisibility cloak over the broom. He looked in Hermione's eyes for some sign. She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. He was too nervous to respond. He thought he saw her face turn into a frown a second later. "Ron, I need to get rid of this broom, that's why I can't shake hands or give you guys hugs," he lied. Hermione's expression changed to a smile again.
"Well, Dad got a ministry car to take us back. Mom came with us here and Dad nicked a car from the Ministry motor pool for an hour or two to take us home. We have to hurry," said Ron.
"So, how are you, Hermione?" asked Harry as his heart jumped to his throat.
"I'm good. And, you?" she asked.
"Good, really good now that I'm here," said Harry still trying to control his emotions.
"This way Harry," said Ron. "I can take the broom for you, mate." Ron took it and set off toward the corner nearest the car parks.
Harry tried not to look at Hermione as they walked, but it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done. He was positive that the Gods of Love were torturing him before they hit him with some awful curse. He laughed nervously.
"What's with you?" asked Ron. "You seem a little off today."
"Well, if you'd just spent an hour trapped in the car with the Dursleys you'd be stark, raving mad too," he said with a smile.
"Good point," said Ron.
Hermione was still unusually quiet.
"Hermione and I went to the movies yesterday, Harry," said Ron as they walked. "What was it called Hermione?"
"It was a 60s revival weekend," she said. "All the movies were either made in the 1960's or about them in some way."
"Yeah, we tried a couple until we realized what rubbish they were. Then we found Austin Powers. We laughed our arse off," said Ron.
Harry looked at Hermione who seemed to be just listening and not as enthused about it as Ron seemed to be.
"So it was fun?" asked Harry.
"It was my first time in a movie house…er…theatre," said Ron. "I had a blast."
"And, you Hermione?" asked Harry desperately trying to draw the usually talkative Hermione into the conversation.
"Oh, wonderful, anytime I can spend time with Ron is nice," she said absentmindedly.
Then she added, "And with you, of course." Harry was relieved that her voice didn't sound strained at that last bit, but it did seem that she'd used the pause for effect.
They'd reached the car, thrown the broomstick, Harry's backpack and Hedwig's empty cage into the trunk. He'd hugged Mrs. Weasley and shook Mr. Weasley's hand. Ginny got into the front seat with her mother. There seemed to be an awkward moment when Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to figure out the order of things in the backseat. He wished there were two girls in the back so he could get in the middle, but pushing Ron aside to sit next to Hermione was not an option. Hermione slid into the middle.
He wasn't as confused as he was flustered. The pace of things had left him little time to focus on Hermione without ignoring everyone else. He wanted to tell her how nice her hair looked and that he was glad to see her. The problem was that they weren't alone. He had run into the same problem with trying to get Cho alone to ask her to the Yule Ball the year before.
"Harry, we hope that you have fun this weekend," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Yeah, mate, I'm jealous. You'd think you were royalty or something. Neither Ginny or I have had a party like this in our lives," said Ron.
"Oh, hush, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley. "When Hermione told us that you'd never had a birthday party in your life, we were sad Harry. Ron and Ginny don't understand that fourteen or fifteen little celebrations are more than you've ever had."
Harry looked at Hermione who he could swear blushed a bit. "Oh, I hope you don't mind that I sort of invited myself." He stopped short not wanting to admit that it was all to get closer to Hermione that day and just seemed to blossom into this.
"Harry, even if the Dursleys had said no, we would have found a way to help you celebrate had we known," said Mr. Weasley.
"Harry, you should know by now that we all love you," said Hermione without a hint of embarrassment.
Harry could hardly contain his excitement at her words. He almost said something he might have regretted if he hadn't seen Ron holding her hand. She saw him look down and took Harry's hand too.
He wasn't flustered any more, he was confused. Would she have taken his hand if he hadn't seen her holding Ron's? He was jealous, but not hotly jealous. Ron saw her take his and flushed a bit but smiled at him.
Hermione broke the awkward silence. "It's just nice that the three of us are together," she said.
"Well, tomorrow and Sunday will be a very interesting days Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "You'll see."
Harry heard the voices, but his hand felt so warm in Hermione's. Their fingers were intertwined and motionless. Harry resisted the urge to see again how she was holding Ron's hand. He knew he was delusional when he imagined a gorilla sitting on top of all three of them smashed into the backseat. It was the gorilla that kept him from being able to pull Hermione to him and try to suck her face off. He laughed.
"What?" said Hermione smiling.
Harry's heart melted. He wanted to tell her. But all that came out was a white lie about Sirius, "I just thought about a joke, Sirius had told me when I said I was coming here for my birthday."
"Care to share it?" asked Ron enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I'd like to hear this," said Hermione with a grin as if she knew something Harry didn't.
"Harry, is this joke fit for telling with Ginny here?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"Mom, I'm not a little kid. I've heard dirty jokes before," Ginny protested.
Harry's heart was about to burst. He could feel the aneurism in his brain ready to burst. He was going to die. There was no joke that he could tell. He thought he understood Sirius' joke about the ink and the quill, but not completely enough to tell anyone else. Certainly, that was a joke not meant for mixed company. And, any attempt to explain the gorilla joke would mean confessing how he heard it. Besides, in his mind's eye, the gorilla really existed.
"It can wait, Harry. That Sirius, Arthur, he's a menace around children this age," said Molly. "I'm sorry for saying it that way Harry, but your godfather is just a little raw for my tastes."
The conversation died there. Harry used the ensuing silence to try to make up something that resembled a joke in case Ron or Hermione pressed him to tell them later. He knew it would be feeble, but his horrible joke telling ability was going to come in handy for the first time in his life. They would think it wasn't funny just because Harry couldn't tell jokes. I'll just say, `On second thought, you would have had to read it to think it was funny.' This time he resisted the urge to laugh.
When they arrived at The Burrow, Harry was nervous. How did he let go of her hand after dreaming of holding for the past month? He didn't want to seem like he was throwing it into her lap like `Thank God that's over.' Yet, he also didn't want to linger over it and make her self-conscious. He just loosened his grip a little and let her break contact. She smiled and got out on Ron's side of the car.
"Okay, kids, help Mrs. Weasley get dinner ready while I return the car. I need to get it back before they really realize that it's gone missing. Be back soon, dear," said Mr. Weasley.
Mrs. Weasley blew a kiss to her husband and waved good-bye.
It was only one-thirty, Harry realized. It seemed an eternity had passed. He hadn't been able to hold a single thought in his head other than Hermione for the past three hours. While it wasn't the perfect scenario in his mind, spending the afternoon with the twins and Ron flying around tossing a makeshift Quaffle back in forth got Harry's head back on a little straighter. Occasionally, he'd find himself looking around to see if Hermione had come outside to watch, but she hadn't.
In spite of what her husband had said on his departure, Molly Weasley's notion of help from the boys with dinner entailed getting them out of her way. Harry returned he found the three ladies laughing heartily in the kitchen. "Yeah, we'd still be trying to get the dough in the oven if you had Ron do it," he overheard Ginny saying to Hermione. Then the laughs began. Somehow he wanted to join in but he wondered what they'd said about him. Maybe they'd had a laugh or two at his expense too. Harry was glad he was several steps in front of Ron and he'd not heard them.
"So, you boys go have a wash," said Molly. "Your father just left work and will be back in a few minutes. Dinner will be ready almost as soon as he gets here."
By contrast to the morning and the tortoise-like progression of time then, the time was flying by now. He and Hermione exchanged glances quite often, but he couldn't read her expression. For some reason, Mr. Weasley was delayed so there were a few minutes to kill. "Mom, we'll be outside at the table when dinner is ready," said Ron. "I can't be around more than one woman at a time."
Harry reluctantly went out with them because he could see that it was impossible for Hermione to breakaway from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at this point in their preparations for dinner. "Yeah, I can't wait for Quidditch this year," said Fred. "We should be the favorites with Harry on our team." Fred and George `high-fived' each other in enthusiastic anticipation of winning the Hogwarts Cup for the fourth consecutive year.
"Boys, don't get yourselves dirty before dinner. Your father will be famished when he gets home and sorely unhappy if dinner is delayed," warned Mrs. Weasley.
"Why is that? Is `ittle Ronykins getting nervous around Hermione again?" chided Fred.
"Oh, piss off, Fred. No," he protested. "It's just that they make fun of boys when they're together and then act like your friend. It's aggravating."
Harry thought that maybe he was wrong. It was possible that Ron had heard them as they came in earlier or something else happened before Harry had arrived.
"Come on, Ron. Admit it, mate. You've been pining for Hermione since the Yule Ball," said George. "You saw how Fred just up and asked Angelina Johnson to the Yule Ball. It was all or nothing. If she said no, there would be no worries-it was over. If she said, yes-which she did-it would be fantastic. So either way, pressure was off."
"Yeah, mate. She's a good kisser too that Angelina. I'll bet you think of Hermione like that too, you git," said Fred as his brothers stood up and punched him lightly.
"Get off me, you stinking prats," yelled Ron.
Some moments seem to be suspended in time. He wanted to smile at the scene in front of him. He suddenly wished he had brothers to tell him how to handle this with Hermione, but Ron was the lucky one. It seemed wrong on so many levels to be angry that Ron cared from Hermione. He wasn't really. He realized for the first time what it must be like to be Ron. Harry was jealous though.
Had Hermione been enjoying a little playful thumb-wrestling in silence until Harry saw their hands? Or was it just a little moment between them that she smoothed over so that Harry didn't feel left out? He tried not to think of what might have happened between them alone in a darkened movie theater.
Suddenly, he felt eyes burning into his back as he stared at Ron trying to fight off his brothers. He turned slowly and saw Hermione. She looked through the screen door. He expected to see a smile or at least a look of disgust at the Weasley brothers ignoring their mother's wishes and rolling around in the garden. It wasn't either expression. She had tears in her eyes. When she realized that Harry saw her, she wiped them and walked away. A moment later, Mrs. Weasley was screaming, "Fred, George, Ron…I warned you. Now, get in here and wash up. Your father is finally on his way."
A moment later, Ron looked at him with his hair going every direction and a smirk. "Thanks mate. You could have at least pulled one of them off me. Some friend," he said in feigned anger. "Just kidding, no use you getting in trouble with Mom too."
Harry smiled. "Sorry, mate. It happened so fast and, well, yeah. I don't want to get your Mom mad at me," he said using the convenient excuse.
That was moment Harry would never forget. Why was she crying? Was it because her boyfriend was getting the Mickey taken out of him and she didn't want to make a scene in front of Harry? Or, was she chopping onions? Or… Harry finally realized the futility of it all. He would never read a woman's mind. He could guess all night and the only way he'd know would be to ask.
But she was never alone the rest of the night. She didn't seem like she wanted to be alone either. If Ron came up to her, she called Harry over too. If Harry got to close, she'd call Ron or Ginny into the conversation. What was she playing at? Or was this one more of Sirius' explanations being played out before his eyes. He was both Cat and mouse at the same time. And, so was Hermione. Was she protecting herself with other people? Harry guessed she was.
The good thing, it seemed to Harry was that other than that one incident. She was in a good mood. Hermione and he had talked cordially and it seemed like it always had. Was this the way it had always been? Was she used to making sure that in this environment she always had someone else around when Ron or Harry approached? If so, how'd she manage at the movies? He didn't want to spoil his time with her. So every time he got down to thinking like this, he forced himself to snap out of it and live in the moment.
It was bedtime and everyone was shuffling off to their rooms.
"Good night, kids," said Mr. Weasley. "Well, fifteen in what, twenty minutes Harry."
"Yes, it's brilliant too. Thanks so much for having me. I can't wait until tomorrow," said Harry.
"You have no idea, mate," said Fred. "You'll think it's the coolest thing ever."
"Good night, dears," said Molly. "That includes you two as well," she added with a motherly smile.
"Good night, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione.
"Yes, thank you too, Mrs. Weasley. The meal was fantastic. It was my favorite," said Harry.
"You should thank Hermione for that," said Molly. "She's the one who planned it."
The word `sweetheart' burned in his brain. His chest ached with the happiness he didn't know how to express. He was so happy it hurt. That wasn't normal. "Really? Thanks loads, Hermione. That was fantastic."
He walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, really." She was shier now than she had been.
She blushed saying, "Anytime, Harry. I'll bet you didn't even know I knew your favorite meal, did you?"
"Mate, you're one lucky guy. That's all she'd talk about yesterday. She wanted to make sure that everything was perfect. I can't wait for my next one. I'm putting her in charge," said Ron with a smile.
Harry was as close to her as he'd been all night. He took her hand and she gently pulled away with a smile. "Well, good night everyone," she said. The heat radiated from her face as if she was truly embarrassed now. If Harry had thought about it hard, he might have said mortified at being caught caring so much about him.
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