A SUMMER PLACE
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.8: In the Family
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
AUTHOR'S NOTE: sexual content ahead
August brought a mix of rain and sun, gloomy and muggy days—but it was one of the happiest months in Harry Potter's young life.
Sixteen years old now, he was indeed the young man Hagrid—among others—called him. More and more, the older people in Diagon Alley pointed out to Harry how much he resembled his father. But Harry didn't really realize the truth of it until he went to Madam Malkin's one day to get his new robes.
"Thought I was seein' a ghost," the witch said as she pinned up his hems. When Harry stepped down from the stool and looked at himself in the full- length mirror, wearing his new robes, he couldn't stop himself from gasping. It was one thing to see his face in the mirror at the Leaky Cauldron, day after day. After a while it was as if he didn't really see it; the wild hair, the black-rimmed glasses. He just sort of looked past himself in the mirror, keeping a remembered image of himself in mind.
That younger image was gone now. Hardly anything was the same—except the scar.
So he kept on, preparing for his sixth year at Hogwarts, sending letters almost daily to Cho and treasuring hers. Finally, it was August 27; five days to go.
Minutes after getting back to his room after lunch that day, there was a brisk pounding on the door: "OI HARRY!"
Harry practically leaped to the door to open it. There was Ron, not at all changed from when he'd seen him last, on the Express, holding a stack of textbooks.
"How was the trip, then?"
"It had its points," Ron said, mimicking Draco Malfoy as he sauntered into the room, ""but wizards of OUR class deserve ever so much better." He cut his performance short when he saw the sausage, mustard and knife still on the dresser with the other gifts. He looked positively hurt. "Didn't you like it?"
""It's great, you twit," Harry said, cuffing Ron lightly on the arm. "Just saving it for the train, is all."
Ron threw his books on the bed and looked at the gifts, including the Volcanic Fire Fudge. He held it toward Harry as if asking to take a taste. "Go ahead if you want to burn your back teeth out. I'm not going near that again."
"You reckon there's some way we can feed it to Draco?"
Harry almost choked with laughter at that suggestion. Among the gifts was a rolled-up scroll. Ron looked inside, and whistled when he saw Cho's angry message. "She got the last word in, then?"
"No," Harry smiled, "that got sorted out."
"Then why hang onto this?"
"To remind myself."
"What, remind yourself that she hated you?"
"No, that she hated me because I was the stupidest bugger in Diagon Alley."
"Well, that sounds interesting. You gonna tell me about it?"
"Yeh, but let's talk downstairs. We can get something to drink."
They went down to the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom poured them two tall glasses of his special iced cider ("with jest a touch o' pumpkin in it, to smooth 'er out a bit"). Ron drank his as Harry told Ron everything that had happened since his return to Privet Drive.
"And you let mum think you were still in Muggle prison. You should have heard her fret about you: 'I hope he's all right', 'I hope he's eating proper', 'I hope they let him get some sunshine once in a while.'" Harry laughed at Ron's impression of Molly Weasley. Then Ron's face clouded over a little. "You know about Fudge, though, right?"
"Yeh, Sirius sent me the clipping. Do you believe that: he saves Fudge's life, and he's still a hunted criminal."
"Well, he couldn't exactly jump up and yell 'Surprise,' could he?"
"It's just not fair."
"Well neither is this." Ron dropped his voice. "Dad figures the Death Eaters are getting ready to make their move."
"What was that with Fudge, then, or Hogsmeade? And why was Fudge in France, d'you know?"
"Well, that was because of Hagrid, believe it or not."
"Get off!"
"Honestly! He'd gone over to Beauxbatons, and talked to Olympe, and they both went out and talked to the last of the giants. And guess what? They made an agreement with the Ministry; Fudge was going there to finalize it. They won't throw in with the Death Eaters!"
Harry clinked his glass against Ron's and took another drink of cider. "Good news!"
"And that's not all. I heard Dad and Percy tell Mum the other night that there have been six Death Eater attacks since Hogsmeade, but they got beaten back every time."
"Six? I don't remember anything in the Prophet like that."
"Never made it into the paper. Percy was boasting about a 'top-flight security operation' against the Death Eaters. Maybe we can catch their owls; I dunno. Anyway, nothing's going right for them. Not since the Tournament, anyway."
Harry nodded, knowing why Ron was right but unable to tell him. After the Tournament Harry had found out that, as they suspected, Severus Snape had at one time been a Death Eater. Now, however, he was acting the double- agent for Dumbledore, pretending to still be loyal to Lord Voldemort while all along working against him. Still, he knew he couldn't tell anyone about this–not even Ron.
"And Harry," Ron went on, more hesitantly, "they, er, said something else."
"What?"
"That you're one of their targets."
"Are you Madam Trelawney now?" Harry snorted. "I could have figured that out."
"I don't mean eventually or someday. I heard them say that You-Know-Who means to try for you before you get back to Hogwarts."
Harry hadn't considered this possibility. "You mean here, in Diagon Alley?"
"Nah, not likely. They'd have to be really desperate to try that."
"Where, then? King's Cross? Or–what about the Dursleys?" For the first time in his life, Harry looked worried about what might happen to his Muggle family.
"Dad said exactly that, so he sent a couple of owls to Dumbledore."
"But he works at the Ministry. Why go to Dumbledore?"
"Well, Percy works there and all, but Dad says that these days the Ministry is a joke. Fudge is just going through the motions; doesn't seem to know what's happening, even though someone almost brained him in Paris."
"Well, what did Dumbledore say?"
"Said my Dad should know about the protections around Privet Drive. Do you know what they mean, because I can't figure it." Harry shook his head. "And that there'd be Aurors on the platform when it's time to go back. No Dementors this time; highly-trained Aurors who can handle anything. Just watch out for everything between now and then."
"Of course," Harry nodded. "Can we talk about something else now?"
"Like what?"
"Well, for starters, Percy and Penelope."
Ron took a quick look around to be sure nobody could hear. Then he dropped his voice to a near-whisper. "Harry, I seen it."
"It?"
"The two of 'em."
"Were they…"
"Oh yeh," Ron nodded.
"Don't just sit there; details!"
Ron took another look around. "We were up in Manchester. Fred and George had messed with the reservations, so the rooms we were supposed to have weren't there. We had to stay at this Muggle bed-and-breakfast. And the food wasn't half-bad."
"But…"
"The rooms in a wizarding hotel have their own privacy spells usually. These didn't. And their room had an adjoining bath, with a door that didn't close properly."
"So…"
"So I hid in the bath and … I saw it."
"What?"
"Everything."
"Will you just tell it properly?" Harry gave Ron a shove, although he was laughing as he said it.
"First of all, he kissed her, and I mean EVERYWHERE!"
"Really?"
"Down to her feet."
Harry looked puzzled. "She liked that, then?"
"She sure seemed to. Percy took his own sweet time licking her all over like a cat, before the actual shagging began."
"You saw that too?!"
"Beginning to end."
"And?"
Ron shrugged. "Percy seemed to be doing it right; she didn't have any complaints."
"And what did she look like?"
Ron's face suddenly clouded over. "All right."
"What's the matter? You changed just now."
"Well, it was what happened the day after I watched 'em. I couldn't even look at them the next morning, at breakfast. I mean, I kept seeing them starkers, like they were the night before. So I don't talk to them or look at them or anything. Well, around lunchtime, Penelope pulls me aside.
"'Ron,' she says, all serious, 'you've been kind of distant toward me, and I think I know why. It's because you still think of me as a Hogwarts Prefect, instead of your brother's wife.' Well, you can see why she wasn't Sorted into Ravenclaw. I don't say anything, though. 'I don't want you to think badly of me,' she goes on, 'so if there's ever anything I've done that you don't like, please come to me and tell me.'
"Well, part of me wants to just up and tell her, 'Nah, what you were doing last night was fine; keep up the good work!' But then I see the look on her face. She was all sad and gentle, like what I was thinking really mattered to her. And I just, just sort of nodded. And she kissed me on the cheek."
Ron started blushing. Harry was having a hard time not laughing.
"You got something to say?!" Ron barked at him.
"Nothing, nothing at all!" Harry grinned.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about shagging Cho!"
"You want the truth?" Harry leaned in, whispering.
Ron leaned in too. "Of course."
Harry grinned again. "Twice a day and three times on Sundays."
"When do you think you'll get a chance?"
"Not anytime soon," he sighed. "She'll be back for a visit in a few days. There's just no place private, though. Besides…"
"Yeh?"
"I … I wouldn't know how to ask." Now it was Harry's turn to blush.
"So that's how it is," Ron nodded his head. "Next time you see Cho, you'd better warn her."
"Of what?"
"Of getting a Weasley sweater this Christmas."
"Wait. Your Mum…"
"Thinks you two were meant to be. I told her what last year was like, and she's practically booked a hall for the wedding."
"A little sudden, isn't it?"
"Harry, she's all but adopted you. You're an honorary Weasley, and you might as well get used to it." He suddenly dropped his voice again. "And as an honorary member of the family, I've got something for you. But it's got to be back up in the room."
A minute later, they were back up in Harry's room, standing in a corner where the mirror couldn't overhear them.
"Okay, Ron, what's this all about."
Ron pulled a parchment out of his robes. It looked like an old map of the Cornish coast. Until Ron drew his wand twice across it right-to-left and said, "Divestus."
The map faded, to be replaced by a picture of two witches. They were attractive, they were naked, and they were doing interesting things with carrots.
Harry's only reaction–only spoken reaction–was "Woh!"
"Whaddya think?" Ron asked, although he knew full well what Harry thought. "The twins picked up dozens of these from a shop in Knockturn Alley that was going out of business. Mum would have ten kinds of fits if she ever saw this, but it's one of their best sellers."
"I, I can see why," Harry said. "This has to be breaking some wizard law or other, though."
"Only about a dozen," Ron smiled, as he tapped the scroll and said, "Carto". The picture faded and the map reappeared. "The twins sell 'em for five Galleons."
"I'd pay twice that," Harry grinned.
Ron glanced out the window. "It's getting late, I've gotta Floo back home soon. I was supposed to buy my books, but I came up about five Galleons short."
"Let me then," Harry said, reaching for his leather coin pouch. But Ron stopped him.
"Look, Harry, I know we're friends an all, but I can't just take money from you like that."
Harry thought for a second. "How about this, then. I said I'd pay twice what the map is worth, and I'll stand by that. Here's ten Galleons. Give five to the twins, tell 'em you sold the map, and buy what you need with the rest."
Ron grinned. "Frankly, I was hoping you'd say that–only I wasn't going to give anything to the twins. Be sure to hide that well." Ron gathered up his purchases and started out of the room, but stopped at the door. "You have anything on for tomorrow?"
"Not really, except for studying maps. Come on by."
"You're on."
…to be continued…
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.8: In the Family
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
AUTHOR'S NOTE: sexual content ahead
August brought a mix of rain and sun, gloomy and muggy days—but it was one of the happiest months in Harry Potter's young life.
Sixteen years old now, he was indeed the young man Hagrid—among others—called him. More and more, the older people in Diagon Alley pointed out to Harry how much he resembled his father. But Harry didn't really realize the truth of it until he went to Madam Malkin's one day to get his new robes.
"Thought I was seein' a ghost," the witch said as she pinned up his hems. When Harry stepped down from the stool and looked at himself in the full- length mirror, wearing his new robes, he couldn't stop himself from gasping. It was one thing to see his face in the mirror at the Leaky Cauldron, day after day. After a while it was as if he didn't really see it; the wild hair, the black-rimmed glasses. He just sort of looked past himself in the mirror, keeping a remembered image of himself in mind.
That younger image was gone now. Hardly anything was the same—except the scar.
So he kept on, preparing for his sixth year at Hogwarts, sending letters almost daily to Cho and treasuring hers. Finally, it was August 27; five days to go.
Minutes after getting back to his room after lunch that day, there was a brisk pounding on the door: "OI HARRY!"
Harry practically leaped to the door to open it. There was Ron, not at all changed from when he'd seen him last, on the Express, holding a stack of textbooks.
"How was the trip, then?"
"It had its points," Ron said, mimicking Draco Malfoy as he sauntered into the room, ""but wizards of OUR class deserve ever so much better." He cut his performance short when he saw the sausage, mustard and knife still on the dresser with the other gifts. He looked positively hurt. "Didn't you like it?"
""It's great, you twit," Harry said, cuffing Ron lightly on the arm. "Just saving it for the train, is all."
Ron threw his books on the bed and looked at the gifts, including the Volcanic Fire Fudge. He held it toward Harry as if asking to take a taste. "Go ahead if you want to burn your back teeth out. I'm not going near that again."
"You reckon there's some way we can feed it to Draco?"
Harry almost choked with laughter at that suggestion. Among the gifts was a rolled-up scroll. Ron looked inside, and whistled when he saw Cho's angry message. "She got the last word in, then?"
"No," Harry smiled, "that got sorted out."
"Then why hang onto this?"
"To remind myself."
"What, remind yourself that she hated you?"
"No, that she hated me because I was the stupidest bugger in Diagon Alley."
"Well, that sounds interesting. You gonna tell me about it?"
"Yeh, but let's talk downstairs. We can get something to drink."
They went down to the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom poured them two tall glasses of his special iced cider ("with jest a touch o' pumpkin in it, to smooth 'er out a bit"). Ron drank his as Harry told Ron everything that had happened since his return to Privet Drive.
"And you let mum think you were still in Muggle prison. You should have heard her fret about you: 'I hope he's all right', 'I hope he's eating proper', 'I hope they let him get some sunshine once in a while.'" Harry laughed at Ron's impression of Molly Weasley. Then Ron's face clouded over a little. "You know about Fudge, though, right?"
"Yeh, Sirius sent me the clipping. Do you believe that: he saves Fudge's life, and he's still a hunted criminal."
"Well, he couldn't exactly jump up and yell 'Surprise,' could he?"
"It's just not fair."
"Well neither is this." Ron dropped his voice. "Dad figures the Death Eaters are getting ready to make their move."
"What was that with Fudge, then, or Hogsmeade? And why was Fudge in France, d'you know?"
"Well, that was because of Hagrid, believe it or not."
"Get off!"
"Honestly! He'd gone over to Beauxbatons, and talked to Olympe, and they both went out and talked to the last of the giants. And guess what? They made an agreement with the Ministry; Fudge was going there to finalize it. They won't throw in with the Death Eaters!"
Harry clinked his glass against Ron's and took another drink of cider. "Good news!"
"And that's not all. I heard Dad and Percy tell Mum the other night that there have been six Death Eater attacks since Hogsmeade, but they got beaten back every time."
"Six? I don't remember anything in the Prophet like that."
"Never made it into the paper. Percy was boasting about a 'top-flight security operation' against the Death Eaters. Maybe we can catch their owls; I dunno. Anyway, nothing's going right for them. Not since the Tournament, anyway."
Harry nodded, knowing why Ron was right but unable to tell him. After the Tournament Harry had found out that, as they suspected, Severus Snape had at one time been a Death Eater. Now, however, he was acting the double- agent for Dumbledore, pretending to still be loyal to Lord Voldemort while all along working against him. Still, he knew he couldn't tell anyone about this–not even Ron.
"And Harry," Ron went on, more hesitantly, "they, er, said something else."
"What?"
"That you're one of their targets."
"Are you Madam Trelawney now?" Harry snorted. "I could have figured that out."
"I don't mean eventually or someday. I heard them say that You-Know-Who means to try for you before you get back to Hogwarts."
Harry hadn't considered this possibility. "You mean here, in Diagon Alley?"
"Nah, not likely. They'd have to be really desperate to try that."
"Where, then? King's Cross? Or–what about the Dursleys?" For the first time in his life, Harry looked worried about what might happen to his Muggle family.
"Dad said exactly that, so he sent a couple of owls to Dumbledore."
"But he works at the Ministry. Why go to Dumbledore?"
"Well, Percy works there and all, but Dad says that these days the Ministry is a joke. Fudge is just going through the motions; doesn't seem to know what's happening, even though someone almost brained him in Paris."
"Well, what did Dumbledore say?"
"Said my Dad should know about the protections around Privet Drive. Do you know what they mean, because I can't figure it." Harry shook his head. "And that there'd be Aurors on the platform when it's time to go back. No Dementors this time; highly-trained Aurors who can handle anything. Just watch out for everything between now and then."
"Of course," Harry nodded. "Can we talk about something else now?"
"Like what?"
"Well, for starters, Percy and Penelope."
Ron took a quick look around to be sure nobody could hear. Then he dropped his voice to a near-whisper. "Harry, I seen it."
"It?"
"The two of 'em."
"Were they…"
"Oh yeh," Ron nodded.
"Don't just sit there; details!"
Ron took another look around. "We were up in Manchester. Fred and George had messed with the reservations, so the rooms we were supposed to have weren't there. We had to stay at this Muggle bed-and-breakfast. And the food wasn't half-bad."
"But…"
"The rooms in a wizarding hotel have their own privacy spells usually. These didn't. And their room had an adjoining bath, with a door that didn't close properly."
"So…"
"So I hid in the bath and … I saw it."
"What?"
"Everything."
"Will you just tell it properly?" Harry gave Ron a shove, although he was laughing as he said it.
"First of all, he kissed her, and I mean EVERYWHERE!"
"Really?"
"Down to her feet."
Harry looked puzzled. "She liked that, then?"
"She sure seemed to. Percy took his own sweet time licking her all over like a cat, before the actual shagging began."
"You saw that too?!"
"Beginning to end."
"And?"
Ron shrugged. "Percy seemed to be doing it right; she didn't have any complaints."
"And what did she look like?"
Ron's face suddenly clouded over. "All right."
"What's the matter? You changed just now."
"Well, it was what happened the day after I watched 'em. I couldn't even look at them the next morning, at breakfast. I mean, I kept seeing them starkers, like they were the night before. So I don't talk to them or look at them or anything. Well, around lunchtime, Penelope pulls me aside.
"'Ron,' she says, all serious, 'you've been kind of distant toward me, and I think I know why. It's because you still think of me as a Hogwarts Prefect, instead of your brother's wife.' Well, you can see why she wasn't Sorted into Ravenclaw. I don't say anything, though. 'I don't want you to think badly of me,' she goes on, 'so if there's ever anything I've done that you don't like, please come to me and tell me.'
"Well, part of me wants to just up and tell her, 'Nah, what you were doing last night was fine; keep up the good work!' But then I see the look on her face. She was all sad and gentle, like what I was thinking really mattered to her. And I just, just sort of nodded. And she kissed me on the cheek."
Ron started blushing. Harry was having a hard time not laughing.
"You got something to say?!" Ron barked at him.
"Nothing, nothing at all!" Harry grinned.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about shagging Cho!"
"You want the truth?" Harry leaned in, whispering.
Ron leaned in too. "Of course."
Harry grinned again. "Twice a day and three times on Sundays."
"When do you think you'll get a chance?"
"Not anytime soon," he sighed. "She'll be back for a visit in a few days. There's just no place private, though. Besides…"
"Yeh?"
"I … I wouldn't know how to ask." Now it was Harry's turn to blush.
"So that's how it is," Ron nodded his head. "Next time you see Cho, you'd better warn her."
"Of what?"
"Of getting a Weasley sweater this Christmas."
"Wait. Your Mum…"
"Thinks you two were meant to be. I told her what last year was like, and she's practically booked a hall for the wedding."
"A little sudden, isn't it?"
"Harry, she's all but adopted you. You're an honorary Weasley, and you might as well get used to it." He suddenly dropped his voice again. "And as an honorary member of the family, I've got something for you. But it's got to be back up in the room."
A minute later, they were back up in Harry's room, standing in a corner where the mirror couldn't overhear them.
"Okay, Ron, what's this all about."
Ron pulled a parchment out of his robes. It looked like an old map of the Cornish coast. Until Ron drew his wand twice across it right-to-left and said, "Divestus."
The map faded, to be replaced by a picture of two witches. They were attractive, they were naked, and they were doing interesting things with carrots.
Harry's only reaction–only spoken reaction–was "Woh!"
"Whaddya think?" Ron asked, although he knew full well what Harry thought. "The twins picked up dozens of these from a shop in Knockturn Alley that was going out of business. Mum would have ten kinds of fits if she ever saw this, but it's one of their best sellers."
"I, I can see why," Harry said. "This has to be breaking some wizard law or other, though."
"Only about a dozen," Ron smiled, as he tapped the scroll and said, "Carto". The picture faded and the map reappeared. "The twins sell 'em for five Galleons."
"I'd pay twice that," Harry grinned.
Ron glanced out the window. "It's getting late, I've gotta Floo back home soon. I was supposed to buy my books, but I came up about five Galleons short."
"Let me then," Harry said, reaching for his leather coin pouch. But Ron stopped him.
"Look, Harry, I know we're friends an all, but I can't just take money from you like that."
Harry thought for a second. "How about this, then. I said I'd pay twice what the map is worth, and I'll stand by that. Here's ten Galleons. Give five to the twins, tell 'em you sold the map, and buy what you need with the rest."
Ron grinned. "Frankly, I was hoping you'd say that–only I wasn't going to give anything to the twins. Be sure to hide that well." Ron gathered up his purchases and started out of the room, but stopped at the door. "You have anything on for tomorrow?"
"Not really, except for studying maps. Come on by."
"You're on."
…to be continued…