Author's notes: This chapter takes place the morning after, skipping the vents in the forest the night before.
Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, not me.
Chapter Three
A very haggard group trudged back across the lawn towards the Burrow next morning. No one had gotten much sleep after returning to the tent last night, and they had departed early. Harry, who was still wearing his clothes from the day before, was looking forward to a shower followed by a long nap. Mrs. Weasley came tearing out of the kitchen door as they came into sight.
"Oh, thank goodness you're all alright!" She gasped, throwing her arms around her husband. She handed Mr. Weasley an article from the Daily Prophet, headed with a large black and white picture of the Dark Mark.
Escorting Mrs. Weasley back inside the house, Mr. Weasley poured her a cup of tea, adding a healthy dose of something called Old Ogden's. Mr. Weasley then began to read aloud from the article for the group. It was written by a woman named Rita Skeeter, who Harry vaguely recognized from his reading of Witch Weekly. According to Bill, she never wrote anything positive unless she could put a twisted spin on it. Feeling as though he needed to go into work in an attempt to help straighten up the mess, Mr. Weasley changed into robes before leaving with Percy for the Ministry. Everyone else trooped up the stairs to their rooms, so tired that even the thought of cleaning up was forgotten as they fell into their various beds.
When Harry woke up Ron and the twins were still snoring on their cots. All four of them were sharing Ron's room to make room for Bill and Charlie downstairs. Unable to return to sleep, he quietly crept past them and out the bedroom door. In the living room, sitting in an armchair, he found Hermione reading one of their textbooks from the previous term. She looked up at his footsteps on the stairs.
"Hi, Harry. Did you sleep well?" She greeted him
"Loads better than last night." He replied, running his hand through his sleep mussed hair.
"Oh I know, it was terrible. I kept having nightmares and decided to see if reading would help."
"Has it?" He asked, sitting on the sofa.
"Not really, but now that you're awake we can talk. Want to go for a walk outside?" She suggested
"Sure, that'd be great." He answered, rising and moving towards the door.
Once outside, they could talk more freely.
"How was yesterday in your new clothes?" she asked him
"I think it went pretty good, well at least until last night." He answered, remembering the moment in the top box.
"Why? What happened?" She asked, a flash of concern on her face.
"Ginny hugged me when Ireland won, and I think she might have felt something." Harry said, quietly looking around to make sure they were alone.
Hermione stayed quiet for a while. They walked through the garden and down towards Mr. Weasley's shed. Once they were definitely clear of earshot of the house she replied. "How do you feel about that, Harry?"
"I don't really know. You know how she is about me."
"She certainly has a rather large crush on you, that's for sure," she replied evenly, "But bringing in her on this might not be a bad idea."
"What?" Harry cried, not meaning to be as loud as he was. "Hermione, you can't be serious?"
"Why not? It might be good for you to have another girl friend who knows about your other life."
"But what if she thinks I'm a freak and tells everyone?" He asked, panic now rising in his chest at the thought yet again of everyone learning his secret.
Hermione led him behind a tree, blocking the house from view, and took both his hands. "Harry, listen to me, I know Ginny better than you do. We've really gotten to know each other better during last year and over the past few days. She's not the head over heels schoolgirl you see her as. She's smart, and growing up with six brothers has made her more mature than half the girls our age, not to mention everything that's happened to her since she came to Hogwarts. She will probably have a lot of questions just like I did, but think of it this way. You're Harry Potter. Her, well for lack of a better term, her idol. You rescued her from Riddle and the Basilisk and you're her brother's best friend. I think once she gets used to the idea, she'll be a good friend for you to have." Hermione finished with a reassuring squeeze of his hands.
"Y-you really think so?" He slightly stammered as he replied.
"I really do. Besides, she's already starting to ask questions."
"What kind of questions?" asked Harry, a fresh wave of nerves flooding over him.
"Oh, just things like if you like boys, or why you're different than you were before."
"What did you say?" He asked
"I told her that it was not my place to talk about your private life" She answered.
"So, if I say yes to bringing her in to this, how do we go about telling her?" He asked, starting to wonder if it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"I say we start small. Would you be comfortable with me testing the waters a bit?" She suggested.
"I-I think so." Harry answered, squeezing her hands.
"Don't worry, Harry. It's all going to be ok. I promise" answered Hermione before beginning to lead her friend back towards the house.
The living room was still empty when they got back, and there was no sound of movement from upstairs. Hermione returned to her textbook, while Heather began to look through a book of household charms that belonged to Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't long before one by one groggy redheads began to filter down the stairs. Everyone wanted to rehash the events of the previous night until dinner, and Harry was soon in conversation with Fred and George about where'd they'd gotten off too when they'd all been separated in the woods. The discussion was only brought to a halt by Mrs. Weasley announcing that dinner was ready.
When they were all done eating, Harry excused himself to the toilet, checking once more to ensure that nothing was visible through his shirt, before returning to the living room. Hermione and Ginny were over in the corner on the sofa chatting, Ron and Fred had gotten up a game to Wizard Chess with George watching, Charlie and Bill were sipping fire whiskey and rehashing the World Cup for the eighth time, and Mrs. Weasley was washing up in the kitchen. No one seemed to notice Harry at first, so he opted on a whim to go and sit with Hermione and Ginny. They both stopped talking as he approached and looked up at him. "Mind if I sit down?" He asked.
Hermione gestured for him to sit next to her and he settled onto the sofa. He felt like he'd interrupted something, and neither of the girls seemed inclined to break the silence. Finally, Hermione spoke, "We were just discussing how you boys behaved during the Veela dance, Harry."
Feeling abashed at the memory, Harry did his best to appear composed. "I think you're exaggerating that, Hermione" he replied.
"Well, you were mostly alright," said Ginny, surprising Harry. She usually didn't talk around him. "But the others looked very foolish"
"Yes, Harry, they didn't seem to have much of an effect on you. I wonder why that is," said Hermione
Harry gave her a quick look. She had the barest hint of a grin on her face, as if she was baiting him. Ginny was looking at both of them in turn, as if trying to figure out an inside joke she wasn't a part of. Harry, taking a deep breath, nodded to Hermione, as if giving her permission to test the waters.
The grin becoming clear on her face, Hermione turned to Ginny. "You know, I didn't notice last year, but Cedric is very cute."
"Oh yes, he's got such nice hair." Said Ginny, blushing.
"What do you think Harry? Do you think Cedric is cute?" Hermione asked quietly, turning to Harry.
Harry's jaw dropped as he whipped his head around to make sure that no one had overheard the question. Thankfully Hermione's voice had been covered by a loud cry from Ron as Fred's knight demolished his queen. "I don't know what you mean, Hermione" Harry stammered turning back to her, "I mean, didn't notice if he was or not."
"You know," continued Hermione to Ginny, "I think Harry was the first person that Cedric helped up after we all landed from the portkey. And I don't think I saw him offer to help any of the other boys."
Ginny may have not been completely aware of Hermione's game, but the bright pink spreading across Harry's face was more than enough reason for her to play along. "Now that you mention it, I think you're right. He's really quite the gentlemen. And Harry, didn't I see you blushing afterwards?"
Harry didn't respond immediately, caught completely off guard by the relentless assault from both sides. His cheeks burned as they resumed their newly familiar shade of red. Both girls giggled. "I think we have our answer to your question, Hermione." whispered Ginny.
Harry, who was close to regretting sitting down by them now said hurriedly "Alright, alright. Yes, he's a bit cute, are you happy? Can we change the subject now?"
Both girls continued to giggle, but did agree to change the subject. Ginny started asking Hermione about makeup. Now that she was thirteen, Mrs. Weasley had started letting her wear it and she wanted advice. Hermione was happy to give her what tips she had, and even suggested that they try some things out before they went back to Hogwarts. Harry tried his best to seem outwardly uninterested, still not entirely sure he was comfortable with Ginny finding out, but as the two girls talked, he found himself having to catch himself before he blurted out something he'd read in one of his magazines. To distract himself, he grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet from the coffee table and began flicking through it. Several times he looked up to see Ginny watching him with a look that could best be described as inquisitive. Behind her eyes Harry could almost hear her mind whirring.
Hermione, it seemed, wasn't content with letting him just listen to their girl talk but had to pull him back in. "Harry, can you remind me what scent shampoo you were using last year? I remember it smelled really nice and I wanted to see if I could find some in Diagon Alley when we go."
Harry knew very well that Hermione was asking just to bring it up, because it had been her shampoo she had given him. Still, he had agreed to testing the waters. Trying his best to sound unflustered he replied, "White strawberry and mint, I think."
"Perfect, thanks Harry. I hope I like it as much as you do."
"It did smell really nice on you, Harry" added Ginny, "a lot of girls I've heard have said that."
"Girls talk about me?" asked Harry, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be reading the newspaper.
"Of course!" Said Ginny, blushing slightly, "Don't you know that girls love to gossip?"
"Yeah," chimed in Hermione, "just like the three of us are doing now." This time there was no doubt that Ginny picked up on what Hermione was getting at. Her eyes went wide, staring back and forth between Harry and Hermione, before a wide grin broke out on her face.
That night after everyone had gone to bed, Harry, who wasn't feeling very tired, crept back down to the living room with his diary. Lighting one of the lamps on the table next to the sofa, he readied his quill and wrote,
Tuesday, August 19, 1994.
Dear Diary,
We got back from the Quidditch World Cup today. I still haven't had time to really process everything that's happened over the last few days. First my scar hurts and I have that dream about Voldemort, then his mark shows up after the match cast my wand. On top of that Hermione suggested bringing Ginny into my secret. She spent most of tonight making hints about it, trying to gauge Ginny's reaction. I hope she reacts well. There's no way she didn't figure it out. Boy, Hermione can really lay it on thick when she wants to! I admitted, under pressure, to her and Hermione tonight that I thought Cedric was cute. He was certainly very gallant helping me to my feet after the portkey. I didn't see him offer to help any of the other guys up, I wonder what that means.
I met Ron's two eldest brothers this weekend Bill and Charlie. Bill was nothing like I expected. Much more like Fred and George, and less like Percy. Charlie was...a hunk. Wait…Did I really just write the word hunk? Guess those girly magazines really are rubbing off on me. I wonder what he thinks of me. Wait, do I want him to think anything of me? I don't know. I'm tired and my brain probably isn't thinking right. Well, its late and we're off to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Mrs. Weasley was supposed to go Monday while we were at the World Cup, but something came up and she couldn't. It's going to be a lot of fun.