"Harry?"
"Naohomgrr," he mumbled and he grabbed me around the waist, pulling me towards him. He then turned on his side, me being tugged along, hugging me like I was a teddy bear, most likely thinking I was a pillow. Giving off the famous Weasley blush, I tapped Harry on the shoulder.
"Harry," I repeated. Boy, this was going to be embarrassing. What am I even doing here!
"Ginny? What are you... Oh! Oh, oh, oh! I can't believe I forgot..." Then I believe he realized he was hugging me.
Turning a deeper shade than I was, he immediately let go and we both sat up.
"Sorry," he muttered, utterly embarrassed.
"I guess it's fine, I know you didn't mean to. You thought I was a pillow!" On the word pillow, I smacked him in the head with an actual one, laughing. "Right?"
"... Yeah, right." Is it just me, or did I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Eh, probably just my imagination. I was just glad I could actually talk to him normally, especially after what had just happened. Hermione had been helping me over the summer regain my speech around him. I was over The Boy Who Lived, ever since the chamber strangely enough. You'd think that experience would just make it worse. But actually, it made me want to get to know the real Harry Potter better.
"Mistaking people for pillows Harry? Tisk, tisk. I do say I expected better," I mocked him. Then suddenly, the thought came back to me.
"So, what the heck am I doing here?" Harry sighed.
"I was going to ask you that. One moment, I was having a nightmare. Next suddenly you appear,"
"Well, all I remember is falling asleep at the burrow." That was the partial truth, I still remember that odd occurrence in my dream. Wait a minute, didn't Harry say he was also having a nightmare. I was about to ask him when he suddenly spurted out,
"You're parents are probably worried sick about you! They will have no idea where you are, will they! I'll owl Dumbledore as soon as Hedwig gets back from hunting. Here, I'll grab some parchment." Harry bent over his side of the bed and bent to grab it. The back of his shirt crept upward as he did so, revealing angry purple bruises, scabbed cuts, and a few whip marks.
"Harry!" I shrieked, making him almost fall off the bed.
"What?" He looked at me, concern and alarm flooding his face.
"What happened to your back?" I demanded.
"Nothing." Oh, the nerve of him. If it was those Dursleys I've heard tell of from Ron, I'll kill 'um.
"Harry, What happened to your back?" I spoke with a stern tone.
"Uh... I fell. That's all, off the swing at the park," he tried to convince. Uh huh, sure. I'm so glad he's a bad liar.
"Tell me the truth Harry." Suddenly, there was a huge BANG! Thump! Thump!, on the door.
"Boy! Get off your ungrateful lazy arse out here this instant and cook us breakfast! Or, what happened to you two days ago will look like a game of patty-cake!" Was that his Uncle Vernon? How dare he speak to Harry that way! Oh... when I get my hands on him!
