Title: Make Me Scene
Pairing: HD, past H/OC, a bit of R/Hr
Warnings: emo!Harry, slash, crackfic-ish, AU sixth year.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all things such related are copyright J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, am making no profit, and mean no harm by spinning my amusing little tales. I'm but a lowly student low on the pocket change, so please don't feel offended.

Credit to Rachel for naming the emo boy, and to Shay for her awesome beta skills.

Summary: Harry spends a summer holiday in America and re-organizes his priorities. How will his friends - and not-so-friends - react to the re-invented Boy-Who-Lived?

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Chapter Two

"We've been on the run; Driving in the sun
Looking out for number one
On the Stereo; Listen as we go
Nothing's gonna stop me now

California, California: Here We Come!"
- "California," Phantom Planet

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Harry had left dinner early. He didn't want to deal with Ron and Hermione's questioning glances; he didn't want to deal with the whispers about him filling the halls. He definitely needed a little peace and quiet to sort out his thoughts, so he opted to return to the dorms alone.

Laying back on his mattress, he stared up at the canopy of his four-poster and couldn't help but let a little smirk play on his face as he remembered his classmate's collective reaction to the "new him". The Americans were right: the shock did help him feel better, a little more like himself and a little less like the Boy-Who-Lived. Shaking up his image in the eyes of people who had grown up with blatantly romanticized tales of him was just what the doctor ordered, in a manner of speaking.

Harry Potter: 1, The World: 0.

He shifted uncomfortably. Ever since he had set foot back in the castle, back into the reality of the world he had called his home from that glorious night of his eleventh birthday, he'd felt melancholy. Something he couldn't place. Like he was missing something; not in withdrawal, and not craving something he had left behind, but that there was something new in the air for him that wasn't there before.

Or he hadn't noticed before.

Harry felt disoriented. His mind whirled, and he couldn't remember ever feeling this way. In that way, he thought, that trip and those people were both a godsend and a curse. All this introspection is making my head spin. He flung an arm over his eyes and sighed heavily. Am I really better off?

Bleach-blonde hair. A jagged, almost carefree, grin. Warm hands. Whispered words in the depths of the night that mingled with the sounds of the sea in the distance.

Harry rolled onto his side, sliding the arm under his head, and let out another heaving sigh. Almost of it's own volition, his hand slid from the bed before him and into his pocket, tightening on the glossy paper in his pocket he knew he held like a lifeline. Harry wanted to pull it out and look at it, and didn't want to as well. He wanted to move on, and at the same time wanted to revel in the sensations and the daydreams and the sunsets of the past summer.

He wanted the castle to feel like home again.

A tanned hand emerged from the pocket clutching the photograph. He drew it out, smoothing it almost lovingly, and held it before his face with both hands. Harry smiled wistfully as he looked at it. He hadn't had many wizarding photographs in his life, though the ones he did have were all very special to him. This one, now, was no different.

Brilliant view of the beach: the surf lapping the sand lazily in the background. The sun slipping gently behind the line of the horizon, casting its golden beauty across the ocean and making it glitter like so many jewels. A troupe of teenagers arranged in the sand - some sitting, some standing, some lounging about like the oafs that they were, and Harry laughed.

His eyes zeroed in on himself in an instant, just right of the middle, sitting in the sand in swim trunks with his new glasses, skin glossy from the frothy ocean, grinning happily. A tanned arm around his shoulders. A blonde-clad head moved in to lean against his own, with a matching grin.

Harry sighed, laying back down, letting the photograph fall next to him. It seemed like an age ago, and yet it seemed like he could reach out and touch it if he wanted to. He hated feeling so jumbled - Harry Potter didn't have an identity crisis because Harry Potter's life was simple. Linear. With purpose.

The Boy-Who-Lived ached for the sounds of the surf. The heat of the sun. Lazy days and late-night parties.

Would that bring him home? Or did he need to find someone to take him to that place inside him? Sometimes, Harry doubted he ever would. He lost himself in scarlet memory as the colours of his bed's canopy collided before his eyes.

xXxXxXxXx

The Previous Summer, August 4th.

The flight to California was harsh. It turned out the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls were fairly good friends, and were content to sit together, on the opposite side of the plane, and gossip as girls do; leaving Harry by the window with a dazed gaze out at the seemingly endless ocean beneath him.

Harry was pretty sure this was almost the most bored he had ever been in his life. Not being a wizarding child like his classmates, he wasn't fascinated with the inner workings of the airplane - along with everything around them. It was all as commonplace to him as their world was to them. The ocean was interesting to him for a while, but something that looks uniform over it's whole surface loses it's lustre eventually. Professor Binn's class won out in the boredom department only because he was still vaguely excited to get to America.

Puesta del Sol. A beachside city in southern California that apparently housed an American school of wizardry. Harry had heard there was a fairly substantial muggle population in the area as well, since much of the town's money came from offshore fishing and oil rigs. Harry had seen pictures, and it looked beautiful. Very small and picturesque: like a town you'd see on a postcard.

The in-flight movie was, interestingly, Interview with the Vampire. Harry thought it an odd choice, but then again, it was a fairly cheap airline. He paid the flight attendant for a pair of headphones, and caught a quick flash behind her of his schoolmates attempting to pay for headphones with a mixture of muggle change and Sickles.

He laughed, shaking his head and settling down for the long flight ahead of him. Passing in and out of consciousness as the day wore on, he watched the movie as best he could. It was actually quite interesting, and he thought the actors were fairly convincing. His eyes were falling closed. They felt really heavy ...

"Sir? Sir!"

Shaken roughly, Harry mumbled confusedly and uncurled his legs from his sleeping position, opening his eyes slowly to gaze up at the flight attendant standing over him.

She smiled softly at him. "The plane has landed, sir. You'd best be on your way."

Harry gazed around, noticing that the airplane was empty but for the attendants and a few more stragglers. Embarrassed, with a flush creeping over his face, he mumbled his thanks as he grabbed his things and shuffled out of the plane. She smiled after him with a friendly wave.

The first thing Harry saw was the sprawling, beautiful blue of the sky, it's expanse marred only by the occasional cloud. Pulled, as if by an unseen force, he ambled up to a terminal window, and pressed his forehead against the glass.

Beautiful wasn't a strong enough word.

He couldn't see the beach from the terminal, but he could just make out the edge of the ocean. Newly paved roads spread out in all directions, black asphalt gleaming in the heat of the overhead sun. There was grass everywhere, and palm trees swaying lightly in the breeze. He could almost taste the flowers. In the air there was a pungent mixture of yarrow, sage and salt from the sea. The air was warm, perfumed lightly, and filled with the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the people. The city was decidedly larger than he had expected, but Harry felt like he was falling in love with it anyway.

"Do you like the view?"

Harry turned abruptly, startled, to see a darkly-tanned, fresh faced girl behind him. She was wearing knee length blue and white hibiscus-print surf shorts and a blue bikini swim top. Her sun-kissed brown hair was pulled back from her face and held behind her in a bun, but it seemed to be unraveling. Her face held the slightest tinge of red, her hair matted oddly, as if she had spent the entire morning in the ocean. All she had with her was a small beach bag in one hand and a pair of sandals in the other. Harry realized she was barefoot at about the same time he realized he was staring.

Of course, he had the decency to blush. She laughed and waved a hand in the air, as if to say, 'Forget about it.' She peered at him curiously. "You're Harry, right?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Harry nodded. The girl laughed again.

Sticking out her hand in a business-like manner, she said, "Marlene. Nice to meet you." Harry took her hand with a nod and a smile. "I'll be taking you over to where everyone else is." She nodded, as if to punctuate her words. Her gaze fell to Harry's trainers, and she grinned up at him. Holding out the flip-flops she held in her hand, she smirked. "You'll be wanting to change into these. Trust me; you'll thank me later."

As they made their way through the terminal, Marlene explained that while a bigger bunch of people wanted to be there to pick them up, they had been having amazing swells all morning and it was almost impossible to tear most of them away from the beach. Therefore, that's where they were headed.

"Is it just 'the beach', or does it have a name?" Harry asked as they exited out the large front doors. Marlene rolled her eyes at him and smirked.

"Yeah it does, smartass." Harry laughed. "Clarita's Pass. It's just off a pretty big highway, kind of secular. Big tourist attraction, though not this early in the morning."

She pointed in the distance to a beat-up white Cadillac with a surf rack mounted somewhat precariously on top, holding a worse-for-wear yellow shortboard. "That'd be mine. As you can see," she said, gesturing to herself and her car, "I was the one selected to tear myself away from the beach."

Harry smiled, although his stomach was flip-flopping. Surfing? He'd never even seen the ocean up close before! He wasn't sure if he was exhilarated at the thought, completely terrified, or somewhere stock-still in the middle.

If Marlene noticed his reticence she didn't comment on it, but simply led the way to her car, unlocked his door for him, and slid across the hood to enter on her side.

When Harry expressed concern about the other students, Marlene waved it off, and explained each student was being shadowed by a different group from her school. Harry had just happened to have been landed with them.

He didn't think it seemed all that bad a group to be stuck with.

The ride went fairly fast, but Harry tried his hardest to pay attention to every detail of the city: stuccoed houses, palm trees, all manner of flora and fauna, glistening roads, and a veritable torrent of cars headed for the same destination as theirs. Marlene drove pleasantly, humming a tune underneath her breath and drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

"You'll have to forgive me the lack of a radio. About a week ago I had my car parked in the lot of a warehouse to pick up some odds and ends and my radio got stolen."

That tore Harry's attention away from the city immediately. "Stolen?"

She turned to look at him when she noticed the distress in his voice. "No worries. Every once in a while in a city like this something gets stolen. It's no real big deal, and our sweet little city isn't dangerous to be in." She flashed him a reassuring smile. "I promise. I totally wouldn't ever put you in danger."

Harry calmed a bit and thought that over. It was naïve to think that nothing had been stolen in his part of Britain, but he was sure it wouldn't have been talked about this freely. Marlene's brutal honesty helped him feel a bit more loose, and with just a bit of effort he turned his attention back to the city.

Sooner than Harry expected they were turning into a sandy parking lot right off of the boardwalk. Jumping out immediately for a look, causing Marlene to giggle, Harry attempted to take everything in at once. The boardwalk, little more than planks of wood set into the beach with a railing to the left side, was lined on the right with shops of all kinds: surf and skate shops, restaurants, cafés, bookstores and tourist traps. In the southern distance were all manner of rides that reminded him of pictures of Coney Island he had seen in books, topped off with a sugary-coloured ferris wheel.

Coming up to stand behind him, Marlene poked him in the shoulder, and gave him a shrug as he turned to look at her. "It's not much, but it's home."

With shining eyes, Harry replied, "I think it's wonderful."

She smiled and started off down the boardwalk.

Marlene eventually convinced Harry to kick off his flip-flops in order to feel the sand between his toes, as they walked down the boardwalk to the group's spot on the beach. Harry felt like a kid in a candy store: he'd never been on a real beach before, and everything was a pleasant assault to his senses.

"I know this is probably a weird place for you to meet everyone," Marlene apologized. "But we're kind of beach bums during the summer."

Harry smiled. "It's not a problem." He paused, considering, then plunged ahead. "I've never been to a beach before."

"I figured. You're looking at everything like you could drink it with your eyes." Harry blushed and she laughed again. With a grin, she pointed out at the incoming tide where a group of people were lounging. "That's them." Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Race you!"

Her surprise start didn't save her: Harry wasn't on his house's Quidditch team for nothing. He passed her easily right at the clinch, and she wagged her finger at him in mock disapproval as she panted for breath at the edge of the group. "Uncool. I hate sports players!"

Harry let out a burst of laughter, but slowed to a stop as a male voice sounded behind him. "Quidditch, right?" The boy moved past him to stand next to Marlene, and gave him an approving once-over. Harry flushed.

The boy had sandy, raggedly-cut blonde hair that fell at a jagged line over his right eye. He was golden tan, not as dark as Marlene but obviously a fan of the beach. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the sun as they raked over Harry. Clad only in scarlet swimming trunks, it was easy to tell that he was well-toned and probably played one of the more physically demanding positions.

He stuck out a hand. "I'm Chance." Harry reached forward to shake his hand eagerly and replied with his own name. "I'm a beater on our school's team. I'm sure I could spot a Quidditch player a mile away."

Harry smiled. "In this case, you'd be right."

"What position do you play?" Chance asked, cocking his head ever-so-slightly.

"Seeker."

"You'd have to be light and speedy, and fairly flexible, to be good at that position." Chance's eyes raked over him again. "I can believe that."

Marlene laughed as Harry looked away sheepishly. "Stop teasing, Chance. You gotta at least let him get used to your insanity before you start in on him." Chance shrugged comically, smiling apologetically at Harry, and the group laughed.

Introductions went quickly after that, a few people here and there Harry attempted to commit to memory, before they decided to go get lunch. Harry could feel Chance watching him closely as they walked down the boardwalk, and he tried his hardest not to look back at him.

xXxXxXxXx

Green eyes raked over the addresses written on the back of the photograph and he snorted in amusement at the hastily-scrawled message at the bottom. He made a mental note to thwap Chance if he attempted to refer to their beginnings as "innocent" ever again. He couldn't have been more blatant if he had beaten Harry over the head with his interest.

Of course, Harry hadn't picked up on it until much later, thinking it good-natured teasing like the rest of the group did. Chance did it to everyone, he soon came to understand. But there was always something a little different about when he teased Harry. A different look in his eyes.

It wasn't like he had ever had a lot of relationship experience, Harry thought bitterly. The one and only experience he'd had was Cho, and he'd soon realized he was more enamored with the idea of her and what she stood for than anything else. He'd been weary of romance of any kind since then.

In his own younger thoughts, he'd had passing crushes on all sorts of people, male and female, because they of the way they looked or because they seemed nice. He hadn't known how odd that was until he got to Hogwarts and was in a stable school environment. In light of everything else happening to him and what was expected of him, he hadn't had enough time to stew over his feelings or let his differences bother him. It all got kind of buried in light of ... other needs.

He wasn't sure if he had ever thought of guys like he had thought of Cho in the beginning. That was the hardest part over the summer - getting past all that "emotional blockage," as Marlene had put it.

Harry had never had anyone to talk to about all these things: it wasn't like he could chat with the Dursleys, and everyone else in his life wasn't close enough to him to put him at ease enough to talk about something like ... that. Even if Sirius were still alive, there was no way he would have brought it up to him. Oh, Harry thought, that would have gone off splendidly. 'Hey, Sirius? I may be having sexual feelings for other guys. Would you like to chat about it with me over tea?' He rolled his eyes.

What was the line from that vampire movie? 'But all my passion went with her golden hair.' A rephrasal to 'his,' perhaps. At that, he snorted cynically and flopped back onto his bed.

A loud, strong knock from the door echoed through the room, jilting him from his musing. He sat up, wary but knowing it was inevitable, and called out, "Come in!"

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Author's Notes: Wow, that was really fun! Many apologies for the delay, of course, but what with graduation and registration for college my time has been forcibly spent elsewhere. Hopefully this story will pick up the pace a little and get itself written faster.

For anyone interested, "Puesta del Sol" is a street in Santa Barbara. Spanish translation would be "sunset".

I am very distraught that "thwap" is not an actual word. We should petition Oxford.

By the by, if you haven't heard the songs I'm referencing in the chapter quotes, I highly suggest you hear them out. I'd never quote anything that sucked!

Let the Reviewing Parade commence!