Take Your Time, My Love
by Pottermaniac
Disclaimer: I disown all J.K. Rowling's characters, plots, and ideas.
Prologue: Under The Stars
Harry Potter watched the stars twinkle in the clear sky, shining brightly with the moon on the green grass of the meadow below. A slight breeze traversed the clearing, cooling the light perspiration on Harry's forehead. He looked up again at the heavens, knowing that the celestial map that that guided countless travelers over the years could not aid him now. All he could do now was follow his heart.
Chapter 1: Letters
The drive back from King's Cross had been surprisingly tolerable. Hedwig's cage was pushed up against the bags of groceries that were Harry's company in the back seat of his uncle Vernon Dursleys' car.
"So how're things?" said Harry tentatively. He had decided on the Hogwarts Express that he would not let himself have a miserable summer. Hagrid's words about dealing with crises as they occurred rang in his head. He would take advantage of the peaceful times.
The Dursleys didn't even acknowledge him. Dudley was telling them about how he hated school, and his parents were sympathizing with him. Would help if Dudley studied once in a while, thought Harry bitterly.
So Harry was left to his own thoughts, which is something he wanted to avoid. He felt partly responsible for Cedric Diggory's death, though he knew that his friends would tell him that it was only the fault of You-Know- Who. Yes, Lord Voldemort had done the deed alone--and had nearly killed Harry, too. Fate always seemed to smile down on Harry, though often not on his friends and family.
He had also seen Cho Chang cry, and it hurt to think of it. Perhaps she and Cedric had been in love; he wasn't sure. Cedric was the nicest guy, it wasn't fair at all. Who to talk about this with? He desperately wanted a letter from Ron or Hermione to cheer him up.
*** The car pulled into the driveway, and Harry got out last. A small brown bird fluttered high overhead, and it was clutching . . . a small envelope! And, surprisingly, it was neither Ron nor Hermione's owl.
"Get those groceries and park the car in the garage when you're done," growled Uncle Vernon.
"Yes, Uncle," said Harry distractedly, trying to avoid suspicion. They hadn't seen the owl.
The Dursleys rushed in the house, leaving several full bags of groceries just for Harry. But he didn't mind. As soon as the door closed the owl dumped the letter in Harry's outstretched hand. He pocketed it and brought it in with the groceries, then tried his best to stuff three boxes of ice cream in a nearly stuffed freezer.
When he got to his room, he took out the envelope. On the front, in elegant but unfamiliar handwriting:
Harry Potter
Number Four, Privet Drive
He opened it crudely, and then read the letter inside.
Harry,
This is Cho Chang. Hopefully your mean relatives haven't got to this first. If they have, well then they are very rude. But if you are indeed reading this, then kindly thank my owl, Lynn, the next time you see her. She's really helpful when you can't find someone on a Hogwarts Expres train rides.
Cedric's funeral is tomorrow. I know you can't be there, though I'm sure you would like to. While on the Express, I thought of Professor Dumbledore's words, "Remember Cedric," and then came to a comforting realization: Though the dead have parted from us, we can at least keep their memories alive. Please remember Cedric, Harry.
I wonder about Muggles very much. Do you think Muggles and wizards could ever coexist? I say yes.
Try to enjoy your summer, despite any efforts from your relatives to bring about the opposite. Take care, and I'll see you in the fall!
Sincerely,
Cho
Her address was listed under her name, revealing that her home was in London.
Take advantage of the time when you're not in danger, Harry repeated to himself. There were no chores to do yet, fortunately. He took out a new quill.
Cho, Cedric was a great friend to me in the short time that knew him. I'd definitely go to the funeral if I could.
Harry paused. He had to work on being more honest; he had learned that over the last few years. But how could she understand? Perhaps only in a bright future where they were married and settled down, where all wizards, and maybe even every rational being, coexisted peacefully. In that kind of a world, they could leave the kids with a sitter and take a stroll in a moonlit park. Only in a time and place like that, where he would be sure that she would forgive him no matter what, could he imagine telling her.
I don't remember. I remember touching the Cup and being whisked away. I remember Cedric standing up to Voldemort. And then I remember waking up.
Would that work? No way that could satisfy her. But he wasn't about to make up a story; it would turn out much worse. Again, he started thinking about Cedric, the gravestones, Wormtail's hand. He had never been so afraid as on that night.
And have a wonderful summer. Feel free to ask about whatever you wish.
Harry
He shook his head, rolled up the parchment, tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl fluttered off into the night.
***
Cho responded the next day. She didn't even mention the Cedric story, but rather asked about the Dursleys' activities. Harry made sure to mention his relatives' loud snoring. Over the next several letters, Cho asked more questions. Curiosity killed the cat, Harry wrote in one reply letter. Cho's response: is that a Muggle saying? They discussed Quidditch, their professors, and Hogwarts, but never Cedric.
Ron and Hermione each wrote to Harry weekly. Almost every private word to Harry from Ron or Hermione--whether spoken or written-was a complaint about the other friend: Hermione and her parents' visit to Viktor's was "stupid", Ron was "jealousy incarnate." Hermione's new shorter hairstyle "made Millicent Bullistrode's hair look wonderful", and Ron was "insufferable." Harry thought it funny that for wizards, owls were the lovebirds.
***
Harry stared out the window at a clear night sky from Ron's room in the Burrow. He and Hermione had been visitors for a few weeks. Some excellent Quaffle throwing had taken place during that time among Harry, Ron, Fred and George. Yet Harry had felt a little bit uncomfortable on the broomstick. It was as if he couldn't concentrate as well, as if he couldn't let himself be in too joyful a mood.
Ron was staring at a book, his desk lit by a lamp. "Harry, I don't want to go back to school tomorrow," he said.
"Why not, Ron?" said Harry. "The books are waiting for you."
"That's not what I mean," insisted Ron. "What happens there. It's like . . . like the feeling I get before I see the dentist-only much worse."
Harry was not suitably frightened. He laughed hard.
"Oh shut up," said Ron, and he fiercely went back to staring at his book.
Harry stared out the window again, but this time he saw something, the familiar brown speck in the sky growing ever larger. He opened the letter, anticipating another entertaining letter from his crush. Perhaps she knew something about Quidditch history? It didn't matter, as long as he got to hear from her. He read aloud:
Harry,
I know you. I'm sure you did nothing wrong the night Cedric died. Whatever happened, I forgive you. But please tell me someday what really happened.
Cho
Harry's jaw dropped. He was not entertained.
"Bugger," said Ron sympathetically.
"I'm not telling her now. It took me till yesterday till I could tell you and Hermione."
"Good," said Ron, going back to his book.
Harry, relieved, scrawled down these words:
Cho,
I'll tell you tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express. I'll look for you.
Harry
Hedwig flew out the window, the letter tied to her leg. As Hedwig flew out of hearing range, suddenly, Harry's satisfied smile became a look of panic.
"What did I just do?" he said to himself.
"What? What?" said Ron, turning around.
But it was too late. Hedwig was now just a shrinking speck in the sky.
***
by Pottermaniac
Disclaimer: I disown all J.K. Rowling's characters, plots, and ideas.
Prologue: Under The Stars
Harry Potter watched the stars twinkle in the clear sky, shining brightly with the moon on the green grass of the meadow below. A slight breeze traversed the clearing, cooling the light perspiration on Harry's forehead. He looked up again at the heavens, knowing that the celestial map that that guided countless travelers over the years could not aid him now. All he could do now was follow his heart.
Chapter 1: Letters
The drive back from King's Cross had been surprisingly tolerable. Hedwig's cage was pushed up against the bags of groceries that were Harry's company in the back seat of his uncle Vernon Dursleys' car.
"So how're things?" said Harry tentatively. He had decided on the Hogwarts Express that he would not let himself have a miserable summer. Hagrid's words about dealing with crises as they occurred rang in his head. He would take advantage of the peaceful times.
The Dursleys didn't even acknowledge him. Dudley was telling them about how he hated school, and his parents were sympathizing with him. Would help if Dudley studied once in a while, thought Harry bitterly.
So Harry was left to his own thoughts, which is something he wanted to avoid. He felt partly responsible for Cedric Diggory's death, though he knew that his friends would tell him that it was only the fault of You-Know- Who. Yes, Lord Voldemort had done the deed alone--and had nearly killed Harry, too. Fate always seemed to smile down on Harry, though often not on his friends and family.
He had also seen Cho Chang cry, and it hurt to think of it. Perhaps she and Cedric had been in love; he wasn't sure. Cedric was the nicest guy, it wasn't fair at all. Who to talk about this with? He desperately wanted a letter from Ron or Hermione to cheer him up.
*** The car pulled into the driveway, and Harry got out last. A small brown bird fluttered high overhead, and it was clutching . . . a small envelope! And, surprisingly, it was neither Ron nor Hermione's owl.
"Get those groceries and park the car in the garage when you're done," growled Uncle Vernon.
"Yes, Uncle," said Harry distractedly, trying to avoid suspicion. They hadn't seen the owl.
The Dursleys rushed in the house, leaving several full bags of groceries just for Harry. But he didn't mind. As soon as the door closed the owl dumped the letter in Harry's outstretched hand. He pocketed it and brought it in with the groceries, then tried his best to stuff three boxes of ice cream in a nearly stuffed freezer.
When he got to his room, he took out the envelope. On the front, in elegant but unfamiliar handwriting:
Harry Potter
Number Four, Privet Drive
He opened it crudely, and then read the letter inside.
Harry,
This is Cho Chang. Hopefully your mean relatives haven't got to this first. If they have, well then they are very rude. But if you are indeed reading this, then kindly thank my owl, Lynn, the next time you see her. She's really helpful when you can't find someone on a Hogwarts Expres train rides.
Cedric's funeral is tomorrow. I know you can't be there, though I'm sure you would like to. While on the Express, I thought of Professor Dumbledore's words, "Remember Cedric," and then came to a comforting realization: Though the dead have parted from us, we can at least keep their memories alive. Please remember Cedric, Harry.
I wonder about Muggles very much. Do you think Muggles and wizards could ever coexist? I say yes.
Try to enjoy your summer, despite any efforts from your relatives to bring about the opposite. Take care, and I'll see you in the fall!
Sincerely,
Cho
Her address was listed under her name, revealing that her home was in London.
Take advantage of the time when you're not in danger, Harry repeated to himself. There were no chores to do yet, fortunately. He took out a new quill.
Cho, Cedric was a great friend to me in the short time that knew him. I'd definitely go to the funeral if I could.
Harry paused. He had to work on being more honest; he had learned that over the last few years. But how could she understand? Perhaps only in a bright future where they were married and settled down, where all wizards, and maybe even every rational being, coexisted peacefully. In that kind of a world, they could leave the kids with a sitter and take a stroll in a moonlit park. Only in a time and place like that, where he would be sure that she would forgive him no matter what, could he imagine telling her.
I don't remember. I remember touching the Cup and being whisked away. I remember Cedric standing up to Voldemort. And then I remember waking up.
Would that work? No way that could satisfy her. But he wasn't about to make up a story; it would turn out much worse. Again, he started thinking about Cedric, the gravestones, Wormtail's hand. He had never been so afraid as on that night.
And have a wonderful summer. Feel free to ask about whatever you wish.
Harry
He shook his head, rolled up the parchment, tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl fluttered off into the night.
***
Cho responded the next day. She didn't even mention the Cedric story, but rather asked about the Dursleys' activities. Harry made sure to mention his relatives' loud snoring. Over the next several letters, Cho asked more questions. Curiosity killed the cat, Harry wrote in one reply letter. Cho's response: is that a Muggle saying? They discussed Quidditch, their professors, and Hogwarts, but never Cedric.
Ron and Hermione each wrote to Harry weekly. Almost every private word to Harry from Ron or Hermione--whether spoken or written-was a complaint about the other friend: Hermione and her parents' visit to Viktor's was "stupid", Ron was "jealousy incarnate." Hermione's new shorter hairstyle "made Millicent Bullistrode's hair look wonderful", and Ron was "insufferable." Harry thought it funny that for wizards, owls were the lovebirds.
***
Harry stared out the window at a clear night sky from Ron's room in the Burrow. He and Hermione had been visitors for a few weeks. Some excellent Quaffle throwing had taken place during that time among Harry, Ron, Fred and George. Yet Harry had felt a little bit uncomfortable on the broomstick. It was as if he couldn't concentrate as well, as if he couldn't let himself be in too joyful a mood.
Ron was staring at a book, his desk lit by a lamp. "Harry, I don't want to go back to school tomorrow," he said.
"Why not, Ron?" said Harry. "The books are waiting for you."
"That's not what I mean," insisted Ron. "What happens there. It's like . . . like the feeling I get before I see the dentist-only much worse."
Harry was not suitably frightened. He laughed hard.
"Oh shut up," said Ron, and he fiercely went back to staring at his book.
Harry stared out the window again, but this time he saw something, the familiar brown speck in the sky growing ever larger. He opened the letter, anticipating another entertaining letter from his crush. Perhaps she knew something about Quidditch history? It didn't matter, as long as he got to hear from her. He read aloud:
Harry,
I know you. I'm sure you did nothing wrong the night Cedric died. Whatever happened, I forgive you. But please tell me someday what really happened.
Cho
Harry's jaw dropped. He was not entertained.
"Bugger," said Ron sympathetically.
"I'm not telling her now. It took me till yesterday till I could tell you and Hermione."
"Good," said Ron, going back to his book.
Harry, relieved, scrawled down these words:
Cho,
I'll tell you tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express. I'll look for you.
Harry
Hedwig flew out the window, the letter tied to her leg. As Hedwig flew out of hearing range, suddenly, Harry's satisfied smile became a look of panic.
"What did I just do?" he said to himself.
"What? What?" said Ron, turning around.
But it was too late. Hedwig was now just a shrinking speck in the sky.
***