Petunia’s explanations for it. He had to admit, he’d enjoyed listening to Ron and Hermione’s outraged indignation to the way Harry’s relatives spoke to him.
Ron kept coming up with more and more names of the twins’ inventions to use on them, and even Hermione had suggested a curse or two. It warmed Harry’s heart to hear them, even if he would never allow them to get into trouble for doing something to the Dursleys. He enjoyed plotting it, nonetheless.
Hermione’s parents hadn’t wanted to let her go – they’d only seen her once during the whole year, at Christmastime – but Hermione had insisted that she was considered an adult in the Wizarding world now, and this was something she had to do.
Ron had been much less forthcoming about how his big revelation went at the Burrow. After much needling and cajoling from Harry and Hermione, Ron had finally admitted that he’d only told his mum that he was staying at Privet Drive with Harry, not that he wasn’t planning on returning to school at all come September. Hermione had scowled her disapproval and uttered something that sounded distinctly like coward.
They’d talked much more about Dudley and what Dumbledore could have done to mask Dudley’s magic. Harry still had trouble reconciling himself with the idea that Dudley was a wizard. It was mind-boggling. In the end, Hermione had promised to look into it while they were staying on Privet Drive. It would be something to pass the time, and if worse came to worse, she could simply cast a Cheering Charm before they left. That would keep Dudley happy for while.
It had been very late when they’d finally crawled into bed. Harry had shown Hermione to the guestroom and suggested she add a lock to her door. Ron hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but shut up quickly after Harry suggested he stay in there with her. Harry smiled in the darkness, remembering the expression on Ron’s face. Hermione had transfigured Harry’s desk into another bed for the night, with the promise to make some changes to Harry’s room in the morning.
Harry hadn’t asked Ron or Hermione about Ginny, and neither had brought her up. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He knew he should just let her go, but he’d never expected how hard that was going to be. He was doing the right thing…wasn’t he? He had to keep her safe at all costs. If anything happened to her because of him…Harry didn’t think he’d ever be able to survive it.
When he’d been with her these past weeks, it had felt like, for one brief shining moment in his life, he’d been normal. Nothing else had mattered. Not Voldemort, not the Horcruxes, not a prophecy. He was just Harry Potter, a sixteen-year old wizard falling in love with a beautiful, red-haired witch.
Falling in love?
Wait a minute… Where had that thought come from? Harry didn’t know whether he loved Ginny or not – he hadn’t even considered it before now. How was he supposed to know what love was? All he knew was the way
she made him feel – so alive. She made him feel like he could do anything.
Being with Ginny had made him want more out of life.
He knew what the prophecy said, and half of him had always suspected that he was going to die, anyway. He’d just hoped he could take Voldemort with him. But she had to go and make him want more. She’d made him see the possibility of what life could be like, and, damn it, he wanted more.
Harry groaned and rolled over, viciously punching his pillow.
“Harry,” Ron’s voice called sleepily.
Harry froze; he’d forgotten Ron was there.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Ron was quiet for a moment, and Harry thought he’d gone back to sleep when Ron suddenly spoke again. “Ginny didn’t seem pleased that I was coming here with you,” he said, in a voice that was much too casual to be natural.
Harry felt as if all the air had been compressed from his lungs. “Oh,” he replied in a choked voice.
Ron fell silent again, as if waiting for Harry to say something more. When Harry didn’t respond, he said, “You broke up with her, didn’t you?”
Harry took a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah,” he replied, bracing himself in case Ron leaped upon him.
Ron sighed heavily. “I think you made the right choice,” he said. “It would be too dangerous for her to come with us. You’ll have a lot to make up to her when this is over, though.”
To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. Still, he steeled himself for what he was about to say. “I didn’t ask her to wait for me, Ron. We have no idea how long this is going to take, or if I’ll even be around when it’s finished.”
“Don’t talk like that, Harry,” Ron said fiercely. “Of course you will. And she’ll wait.”
Ron fell silent again, and this time it was Harry who waited for him to say more. Finally, realizing that Ron wasn’t going to add anything to that statement, Harry couldn’t contain his curiosity. He wished he could control that hope that flared within his heart, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know how to begin to try.
“How do you know?” he asked tentatively.
“She told me to take care of you,” Ron said. “As if that isn’t what I always do,” he added with a snort.
Harry hastily swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. She does care.
“Thanks, Ron,” he said, hating how gruff his voice sounded. He rolled back over on his side and listened to the sounds of insects flying outside the open window, his mind running over pleasant memories of the all-too-brief time he’d spent with Ginny.
Ron’s voice once again broke the silence of the room.
“Of course, after this is all over, if you ever break her heart again, I’ll have to beat you senseless.”
Harry grinned into his pillow. “You could try.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“Night, Ron.”
“Night, Harry.”
Chapter Two
When One Door Closes…
The next morning, Harry was awakened by the sound of Ron’s snoring, which was causing the entire room to shake. Combined with Dudley’s snores coming from the room next door, it sounded as if a battle of the bands was taking place.
Harry sniggered.
Uncle Vernon must be loving this. Of course, he snored fairly loudly himself, so maybe he was missing it. The door to Harry’s bedroom creaked open, and a disgruntled Hermione stuck her face inside.
“Does he always snore that loudly?” she asked testily.
“Pretty much,” Harry replied, grinning. He pulled the covers up closely to his bare chest, suddenly becoming aware of his state of undress. “Er, what are you doing in here, Hermione?”
Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, as if she just realized what she’d done. He noticed her gaze remained fixed on Ron’s bare chest as he lay uncovered on his bed, his arms flung open wide.
“Hermione,” Harry repeated.
She started. “Oh! I mean, erm…I just couldn’t sleep with all that racket. I’m going to Apparate into Diagon Alley and pick up some books at Flourish and Blotts that might help us with our search. I’ll get some breakfast while I’m out. Try and wake Sleeping Beauty there; we’ve got loads to do when I get back.”
Hermione had, thankfully, thought to bring sandwiches and snacks with her when she’d arrived yesterday, and they’d feasted in Harry’s room. He was grateful that she’d offered to get breakfast and relieved him of the duty of having to explain that the Dursleys wouldn’t be feeding them.
“All right. Be careful,” Harry said.
“Honestly, Harry. I’m only going to Diagon Alley. I’ll be back before you know it. What do the Dursleys like to eat? I could pick something up for them while I’m out, too.”
Harry just stared at her, mouth agape. “You…you…you want to get breakfast for the Dursleys?” he asked, unable to wrap his mind around the idea.
“Well, if I’m getting something for us, it would be the polite thing to do. I think that if we just made an effort you all could come to an understanding. You’re her nephew, after all, and she’s raised you since you were a baby. She came to you for help, and I think you have the chance to really build a relationship here, Harry.”
Harry’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Had his friend finally gone mad? He knew exactly what would happen if Hermione brought back food to the Dursleys – they’d sooner let it knock into their heads than touch it. They did as much last year with the wine Professor Dumbledore had offered them. He also knew Hermione well enough to understand that nothing he could say would dissuade her from her campaign.
“Why don’t you just get a variety of pastries,” he said. He was amused with the idea that Hermione’s latest crusade appeared to be to enlighten the Dursleys. Harry knew she stood a better chance with the house-elves. In fact, he’d spent most of his life being treated like a house-elf by the Dursleys. Between Ron trying to live like a Muggle and Hermione trying to civilize the Dursleys, this would be the most entertainment he’d had on Privet Drive in his entire life
After Hermione had left, Harry took a shower – a very long shower once he got distracted with thoughts of Ginny again – and then went to awaken Ron. He tried calling his friend’s name several times, and when that didn’t work, he lobbed a pillow at his head.
“What the… Bloody hell, Harry. What’d you do that for?” Ron asked grumpily, throwing the offending pillow back at Harry and pulling the covers over his head.
“Come on and get up. Hermione told me to have you up and dressed by the time she returned,” Harry said, grinning at Ron for jumping to attention at the mention of Hermione’s name.
“What? Returns from where? Where is she?” Ron asked.
“She went to Flourish and Blotts to get us some research material and also to pick us up some breakfast,” Harry replied, tossing Ron’s dressing gown at him.
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