Harry awoke to the normal beeping of his alarm clock. On his third swing he hit it, and it silenced. It was Harry's birthday today, but he didn't know it. Getting into the rhythm everyday had led him to forget about days of the week, and month. He just went on painfully, waking, working, suffering and sleeping.
He dressed quickly and went out to run as usual. Over the last few weeks Harry guessed he had gotten his distance up to four miles each morning. He like feeling the fresh, clean air fly by his face. It was the best thing he could get without using his Firebolt, safely stowed in his trunk. He returned and showered, before cooking breakfast and leaving for work. He got annoyed with taking the floo every morning, and was looking into teaching himself to apperate. Maybe it would be useful someday.
One thought had been increasingly haunting him for the last few weeks. He was absolutely sure that he had a crush on Hermione. She wasn't model material, but he couldn't help but feel more that friendly urges when he thought of her. He knew this was bad, wrong, immoral, but he couldn't help it. He continually tried to weigh the consequences of his actions. If he went after Hermione, judging from the way she treated Ron at the end of the year, she would reject him harshly, and it would ruin their friendship. Ron would probably try to murder Harry, maybe even go so far as to join the ranks of the Death-eaters. Even if Hermione turned him down, Ron would probably never forgive him. He was wracking his brain, coming up with some of the most extreme ideas just to solve his problem. In the end, he decided to let it alone, let time take its course. Be silent and patient. This resolution still did not stop him from thinking of crazier ideas.
But, as he so cleverly dubbed it, the Ron factor, would not leave his mind, and slowly drove him into dangerous amounts of frustration. Dudley and Vernon often walked in on Harry grabbing his hair and attempting to pull it all out. Harry's attacks from Voldemort didn't help the situation. Yet life went on, and so did Harry.
He arrived at work, and stocked, and restocked, and moved and displayed hundreds of books flawlessly. His muscles had become stronger, and the lifting didn't tire him any longer. His day was going uneventfully as usual, until about three o'clock, when Spencer called him to the back office. Harry finished rearranging the simple spells section, and casually strolled into the office. He carefully maneuvered through the stacks of books, until he found the desk once again. He took a seat opposite Spencer, and waited for him to stop scribbling.
"Harry, here a' Flourish and Blotts, we send a thank you note t' our best customers o' each month. Yeh have no idea what a shock it was t' see yer name as our biggest buyer. I need yeh t' explain this to me." He handed Harry a piece of parchment with a list of all the books Harry had bought over the last month.
"What do you want to know?"
"Why yeh bought The Cruciatus Curse: The Inner Workings?"
"I thought it would go well with Is It Beatable? The Cruciatus Curse."
" And 109,537 Useful Potions?"
"I thought they would be…useful."
"Animagi: The Art of Animalization?"
"My dad was one. It fascinates me."
"The Aurors Handbook?"
"I have to know how to protect myself."
"Harry, I'm gunna be frank wit ya. Yeh spent more money on these books, than I paid yeh."
"Oh."
"Yeh didn't know?"
"No…Well yes. I didn't really know. I liked the books, so I bought them. Is that wrong?"
"No, no, no. But yer missing the point. Yer wastin' yer money." Harry began to argue, but Spencer waved him off. "I know yer goin' t' say yer not wastin' yer money, but when yer so young, yeh are. Have yeh read any of em?"
"All the way through? Only a couple."
"I'm goin' t' make a deal with ya. Whenever yeh finish reading any of the books, and yeh've taken notes or whatever ya do wit em, just bring em back for a refund, as long as they're still in new condition. There's no need fer yeh t' spend so much. 'kay?" Harry sighed in defeat. He was really enjoying the books. It made him shudder to think he was turning into Hermione. He didn't think they would keep a record of the books he bought, but considering they did, he wasn't astonished that Spencer was a bit curious. The books he bought were rather rare, some even a bit dark, but he read them anyway. His desire to protect himself and his friends was strong, and he knew that, in the end, everyone would look to him, even if it was for something he did before he had controlled thought.
He dejectedly went back to work, and at four fifty, being done with stocking for the day, he collected his pay from Spencer, and took the floo home.
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Hermione was putting on some make-up. She had rarely done this, so it took her a while, because she couldn't let herself mess up. It was Harry's birthday, and she wanted to go and celebrate, visit him, maybe cheer him up. He was beginning to worry her. She wrote long detailed letters to him, describing what she was doing during the holiday, what she learned, what she wanted to learn, who she had heard from. Harry's letters were very short, if he wrote one. She fingered his latest response to her.
Hermione,
I am fine, as well as Hedwig. I see that you are enjoying your summer. I have had fewer attacks. I'm not sure if I've told you, but Aunt Petunia is pregnant, and she and the baby are well. Vernon is well, and so is Dudley, if you care. My motorcycle is coming along fine, and Vernon's car looks spectacular, though I still am working on the engine.
Talk to you soon,
Harry
Something about it wasn't right. He seemed off. She tried to read between the lines, but the harder she looked, the more confused she became. She checked her clock, 2:47. She thought she would show up at three, and give Harry his present. Maybe even get him to kiss her. She would like that. She stood and grabbed her long dark cloak, because she didn't want to get ashes all over her dress. She wanted to look perfect for him, but not obvious. Just enough so that she could tell if he liked her. Men were so obvious, just Harry hid his emotions so well recently, she didn't know what to think.
At three o'clock, the time Professor Dumbledore agreed to lift the barrier to the Dursley's fireplace, Hermione stepped into the flames of her own fireplace, and shouted 'The Dursleys.' She felt a nauseating tug and rapid spinning as hundreds of fireplaces zoomed by her at impossible speeds. Suddenly, there was a sharp tug and she fell onto solid ground. Expecting to be at Harry's house, she stood quickly and put on a smile, only to have it replaced with a frown. She was in her own living room. At first she didn't believe it, but upon closer inspection, it was true. She just went on the most sickening journey to nowhere. It was unlike Dumbledore to be late, but perhaps she was early. Not all clocks were set exactly the same. She sat in a plush armchair near the fire, and waited for three minutes, calming her stomach, and anticipating her arrival at the Dursleys', if it would allow her to go there this time.
She stood slowly, and tossed in a second pinch of floo powder, before shouting 'The Dursleys' and being sucked into the flames once again. She closed her eyes and tried to think of pleasant things, but her mind drew a blank. She guessed it was about the same place where she felt the sharp turn last time, that she fell out of a fireplace, and onto a short and poorly padded carpet. She opened her eyes, and smiled at the unfamiliar carpet. She stood and caught site of a huge man looking at her curiously over his newspaper. She knew who he was, but really didn't want to get him angry. Harry hadn't said anything negative about his "family" but that didn't necessarily mean they weren't mean to him.
"Is Harry here?" She said as innocently as she could. She could feel the tension rising. The man put a finger to his lips, motioning her to be quiet. He leaned forward and began to whisper.
"Harry's at work right now, but he usually gets in about five, five-fifteen. You can come back then or wait for him in his room. Petunia wouldn't like you to be here, so be quiet. Don't use the fourth stair either, it squeaks a lot and you'll be sure to wake her." This was nothing like the description she sensed from Harry about the Dursleys. Maybe they had changed for a reason unknown to her. Harry told her very little about anything that happened. She decided to wait for him in his room. She could then investigate into his private life, maybe learn his dirty little secrets. She whispered a quick thanks to the man with the paper, and crept up the stairs like a cat. She came to the top of the stairs, and opened a door. The room was large, with a television so big it was a wonder how they got it in. She knew this wasn't Harry's room, and went to the next door. This room was smaller than the first, and it was a mess. In the very dim light she could make out what she guessed was his motorcycle in the center of the room. She noticed a small lamp and turned it on.
She gasped as she could now look around and see how he lived. What she thought was his motorcycle, was indeed his motorcycle, shiny and new, but missing pieces, which were laying rusty and warped around it. There were a score of bottles on his desk, and dozens of books all opened to certain pages laying around the room. She picked up one of the bottles, and read the label Belhaven Scottish Ale. An ashtray lay on a shelf next to her, with what looked like a half smoked cigarette in it. It smelled odd, but she attributed it to the mess of the room. She remembered the smell from when she went into a particularly run-down area of London, but she never knew where it came from. She didn't recognize this as Harry's room, she couldn't recognize it as Harry's room. The only familiar object she saw was the moving picture of Harry, Ron, and herself walking together, arm in arm. The three in the picture smiled at her, and she frowned back. Who was this, that owned this room, these books, those bottles. Who? She felt very out of place, unwanted, and sat in a very dark corner of the room, waiting fearfully, angrily, and anxiously for Harry to come home.
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Harry fell out of the fireplace at number 4 Privet Drive. He stood and dusted the ashes from his clothes. The entire family was gathered in the living room, and any chatter that may have been going on had suddenly ceased upon his arrival. Vernon looked like he wanted to say something, but would not do so in front of Petunia and Dudley. The awkward silence grew, and it would take someone of strong will to break the tension.
"So, how's the baby?" Petunia cringed and clutched her now bulging belly, while forcing what she hoped would be a friendly smile. Vernon had scared her into being decent to Harry, and he suspected it was happening, but he wasn't quite sure. He didn't need to be afraid about knowing she was pregnant either, as she was showing a lot.
"Fine, he's just fine."
"Splendid, I think I'll regret not being here when he's born. I never met a baby before." Harry pulled a few notes from his pocket and counted it in front of them. He folded a fraction of it and handed it to his uncle. "This is for the part you ordered for my bike, fifty three pounds."
"Er, thank you, Harry." He smiled warmly, and Dudley looked around confused. He was told by Aunt Petunia to avoid Harry at all costs, so he was blind to their warmness to him. It made him scared, what did they know that he didn't.
"You're welcome." He grinned and left the room, jogging up to his bedroom. He entered and saw that he left his lamp on. He usually didn't, but he must have forgotten.
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Hermione heard the talking downstairs halt suddenly. Her boredom was getting to her, and she wanted something to do. She checked her watch and saw that it was five twenty. Where the bloody hell was he? A rapid thumping announced someone scaling the stairs, and the door opened. She held her breath and watched Harry look at the lamp quizzically. He just watched it for a second before strolling over to the closet. He opened it, and she couldn't make out what he was doing, but he emerged with a bottle, identical to the ones on his desk. He twisted it open, and gulped down half of the bottle like it was pumpkin juice. He replaced the cap, and set the bottle on his desk. Her anger and pity fought fiercely within her. She didn't know what to do, and stayed glued to the floor, watching, wanting to cry and scream at the same time. Harry made his way over to the ashtray and picked up what she thought was a cigarette. Hedwig, who had been silent and gone unnoticed for Hermione's entire stay, flew from her open cage and landed softly on Harry's shoulder, hooting beggingly.
"What do you want?" he said to her, and she hooted again, a little louder. He inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke into the owl's face. Hermione expected Hedwig to fight back or run, but the owl just breathed the smoke, before flying drunkenly out of the window. Harry laughed lightly and put out the cigarette in the ashtray. He then made his way over to his wardrobe, which she had avoided. He opened it, and her jaw fell. Inside were many simmering, boiling, smoking and frozen cauldrons. Harry was making a wide variety of potions, hidden from any suspicious family members. He took out a clipboard, and a quill, and wrote some things down, before turning off the lamp and exiting the room. He closed the door behind him, and she heard him enter the garage below.
A thought struck her, and she sprinted to the ashtray, picking up the butt. She smelled it carefully, and she dropped it back in. She fell into her corner, pulled her knees up to her face, and cried. It was quiet, and only tears, but she cried. She mourned the death of her friend, the person she loved, the person she had previously vowed not to love. He was no longer, and this, this poor ruin that inhabited his body was all that was left.
Time passed slowly, but she didn't move from her spot on the floor, in the darkest corner of the room. She strengthened her resolve, and she would have to face him, to save him, to salvage anything she could of him. It was the least she could do. He was always nice to her, respectful of her, and she owed him so much more. So many people did. A little before eleven o'clock that night, she was on the verge of sleep, when a familiar thumping on the stairs returned her to her senses. Harry entered the room, and turned on the lamp. He pulled out the chair of his desk, and she noticed restraints for the first time. Her mind was telling her to pop out of her dark cloak, to confront him now, but her shock paralyzed her. He grabbed a very large and thick book, picked up his quill, and began writing in it. She supposed it was some sort of workbook, maybe he was studying for his O.W.L.s. She watched in awe of the concentration he had on his face. His eyes had dark blue shadows underneath, and he looked terrible. He was lying to her, and he wasn't getting any sleep.
Very suddenly, he closed the book and pushed it away, and immediately fastened himself into his chair. She heard him whisper 'Here we go' and watched, shocked with horror, as blood trickled from his forehead, and into his eyes, onto his clothes, which, she noted, no longer looked like Dudley cast-offs. She saw him spasm and bleed for twenty two minutes, before he opened his eyes again.
He unclasp himself from his leather bindings, and cleaned his forehead and face expertly with a towel. He waved his wand at his shirt, and the blood disappeared. He finished with his scar, and lifted his head to look at the ceiling. He sighed and closed his eyes. She saw that he touched his fingernail, and began speaking.
"Good evening professor – Yes, as always – No, I'm not drunk, but I have had a drink. And no I'm not going to drop it, that stuff is the only reason I'm still sane – Do you want to know what happened this time? – What do you mean, is it worth hearing? Everything about Voldemort is worth hearing – Yeah, there was a new woman this time. Greenish Blonde hair, I think, but it may have been the light, there wasn't much – I don't know why that is unexpected, I expected it – Well he killed that first woman last night, so who was he going to sleep with today? Let's be realistic, he may be evil, but he still needs a healthy fuck – Are you kidding me? C'mon, Dumbledore, you know he's not really going after Hogwarts. If I've learned anything from his waking moments, it's that he hates me more than the rest of the fucking planet. He would sacrifice himself if it was the only way to kill me – So far they have no progress with the screen you put on my floo – Oh, by the way, other than the new woman, he had a major torturing session today – No, no muggles this time. There were a bunch of Dementors, seven maybe, a two Death-eaters – Cruciatus curse on the wizards, I don't know the spell he used to torture the Dementors – I don't know, I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they weren't happy when they left – I'm not sure. What about the Weasley's and the Granger's. Have they been protected yet? – Bullocks Dumbledore, If the Ministry won't do it, I fucking will. This is crap. You can do it for Pete's sake – You really think Fudge will try to jail you for putting protection charms on homes? He would be thrown out – After he blamed Azkaban on a bunch of Death-eaters led by Sirius, you actually think he'll come around? He needs to be neutralized." An involuntary shudder rippled through Hermione's body. Harry was talking like he was going to kill him. Neutralize? Why would Harry want to neutralize him? "Anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow, you know, after the next episode of Voldemort; Up Close and Personal. – Good night." Harry tapped his fingernail, placed his elbows on the desk and buried his head in them. She swore she saw his fingernail flash, and his head shot up again.
"Back so soon, and I thought I would have to wait for tomorrow to speak with you again – Well, considering you thought something was important enough to call me back, I might as well hear what you had to say – Are you kidding me? – Wait, hold on a second, Hermione asked you if she could visit me today, and you turned off the screen, but you never mentioned it to me – Of course that's bad! If she saw my room she'd murder me, and save Voldemort the trouble. Jesus Christ…– Oh, you know very well what you did. Don't play me as a fool, I've learned a lot from the Malfoys this summer, even if it was involuntary – She doesn't appear to be here now, so that means either she never came, which you better hope and pray for, or she came, saw my room and split, which just prolongs my meager existence, and your as well – Shit! Today was my birthday, I never took off the owl repellant curse. Can you tell everyone I'm sorry anything they sent to me didn't get through – I knew you would make me do it, and I should, but I really don't want to explain how and why I did it, or was able to do it – Fine, fine, I start on them at work tomorrow – The Malfoys. There's one dastardly bunch. You know Lucius's wife? Do you know that he, get this, lends her to his friends. But anyway, you want to know what I could possibly learn from them? It is hard to explain in detail, but they taught me how to read people, and how to remain unreadable – That and he is trying to persuade Voldie to allow a siege on The Burrow before the end of the summer – Yeah, well you better get some sleep, I know how tiring it is to duel a couple Death-eaters – Well, for me four is a couple, you know you thrashed them, don't be so bloody modest – Yes, you say one of the not-so-mysterious assailants only had three fingers on his left hand? Yup, that was me. Lucius taught me that one, I used it on Goyle in my final duel – I thought you would like that. He would have a bit of a time handling his wand, wouldn't he – Very well. My motorcycle awaits. Talk to you tomorrow – Good night." He groaned aloud, and he started de-rusting a few last pieces from his bike. She sat in silence, too shocked to move. Harry had been swearing at the Headmaster, the greatest wizard of the generation. Who was this, this, this hooligan, and who did he think he was?
A flutter of wings announced the return of Hedwig. She landed softly on Harry's shoulder and hooted gently as he ruffled her feathers. She nudged his cheek and hooted again. He ignored her. She nipped at his ear with her sharp pinching beak.
"Owe, Owe! Stop it. Fine, but this is the last one for tonight. I swear I'll become the laughingstock of the wizarding world. I can see the headlines now, Harry Potter and His Pothead Owl. You really need to learn to control your addiction, bird. Your lucky I put the silencing charm on my room, or Vernon would have turned you into pie." She hooted joyfully and Harry picked up the joint from the ashtray. He lit it, puffed deeply, and exhaled into the face of the animal. Hedwig hooted and wavered drunkenly, before taking to flight. She flew around the room, blindly banging into everything, until she crashed into the wall with a thud, just above Hermione. The owl fell at her feet, and Harry picked the owl up and placed it on his bed. He laughed giddily and went back to rethreading a nut. Suddenly, he froze, and crawled over to her corner, facing her with his own dark, sullen, and intoxicated self. He stopped in front of her, and pushed back the hood of her cloak and his bloodshot eyes went wide in horror. His peripheral vision saw a hand appear from no where, headed right for his face. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"Crap."
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Harry woke up with a sever headache. His face hurt too much for it to be a hangover alone, and he struggled to remember where he was when he fell asleep. He wasn't hearing his alarm clock, so he curiously opened his eyes. That was his first mistake. The second was smiling at the furious face that hovered a number of feet above his. He touched his cheek and yelped in pain, there was a large welt there, from the slap the Hermione had sent him. Visions of the night before came flooding back, and a few new words came to mind.
"Dumbledore, I hate you." He didn't mean it, but the fact that he said it was the last straw, and the face contorted in rage, went even redder, and a foot hit Harry in the stomach. He grunted and rolled over.
"Get up." She snarled, her voice saturated in venom. God, even when she was furious with him, he couldn't help but realize that she was only looking after him, because she cared. Her anger meant more to him than anything else he could think of. He rose carefully and looked around. The sun was shining brightly through the window, and he checked the time and jumped back. For the first time, he was late for work. He groaned and began to search for his running clothes. Spencer wouldn't be mad he was late, but he felt work was the best excuse to leave her angry presence. Though he loved her anger, he feared it.
He changed into his shorts right in front of her, and searched frantically for a clean shirt. He began tying his shoes when she awoke from her stupor, and regained her seething voice.
"Where in bloody hell do you think your going?" He began tying his second shoe, and refused to look up at her, to let her see his humiliation, and his fear.
"I am late for work, and I need to jog and eat. I'll be back soon." He finished with is shoes, and made his way to the door, but she was closer, and slammed it, pinning her body against it. If he really wanted to he could have removed her, both magically and physically, but he decided that his reprimand would be either now or later, and it was pointless to put it off.
"Sit down." She hissed.
"I prefer standing."
"SIT DOWN!!!" Her voice shook his room. Again, he thanked himself for learning the silencing charm. He followed her orders. He could not win this battle, and now he couldn't run away. This one he would just have to loose. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why what?" She mocked him, putting on her best ugly face. "Why everything? Your drinking, doing drugs? Your having nightly attacks and not telling anyone!!! And you tell no one. NO ONE!!! You LIED to me. It's on paper, you lied to me." He knew there was no way out of this one. Maybe he could pass off the been, and the weed, but lying to her was going to get him killed.
"Yeah, I did, didn't I." He said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Hedwig chose this moment to wake up. She too was a bit startled, and flew crookedly to Harry's shoulder. He winced a little, and the bird hooted pleadingly. "No, Hedwig, not now."
"Not ever." Added Hermione, still fuming. Hedwig saw the fury, and left through the open window. Never trust an intelligent animal to be loyal in a time of need.
"Right, so where were we?" She took the opportunity to slap him on the back of the head. He glared at her, and she raised her hand again. He cowered away thinking 'She would make a bloody good Dark Lord.'
"Why are you ILLEGALLY drinking BEER and smoking DRUGS?" He groaned, searching for the best answer, the one she wouldn't beat up on.
"Because they make me feel good." Wrong answer. Her open palm hit the back of his head again, irritating his already bad headache. "Bugger, if you keep doing that your going to kill all my brain cells."
"Does it matter? You're doing a fine job of that already." He fell silent. "Now are you going to answer me honestly?"
"No." (slap) "Yes, Ummm, I drink beer because it, it dulls the pain in my forehead, and the pot is good for making me forget everything I see, after I tell Dumbledore. I'd be dead without it." He ventured to look up to her face for the first time. Her cold anger was replaced by a teary pity. He hated the pity, and wanted to tell her to go cry over the billions of starving people in the world, but knew that it would be an inconsiderate and inappropriate thing to say. She sat down on the floor next to him. They both looked straight ahead, very interested in their own shoes, afraid to look at each other.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone?" It was his turn to really respond.
"Who? Bloody fucking who would I tell? You? Ha! You would kill me then lecture me, I don't need it. Ron? He'd laugh at me, but when he realized I wasn't lying he'd look at me like I was a freak. Which I probably am, but I don't need any of that either. Sirius? Not only can I not contact him, but he would chastise me and say bad Harry, don't ever do it again. Vernon? He'd probably drink with me, and try the weed for fun. I'm not even going to go into Petunia and Dudley. The rest of the Weasley's would cry and wail "poor Harry." I don't want that either. I suppose I could tell Snape, and he would be rid of me forever. So who? Who would I tell?" They sat in a long silence.
"Dumbledore…"
"He knew from the beginning, and tried to ease me away. He wouldn't get involved unless I asked him to."
"Well, I know now, so I can help you."
"Don't believe everything you read." He said haughtily.
"What's that s'posed to mean?"
"The mouse that helps the lion, always gets eaten." She turned and gave him a funny look. "I guess you never read that one, Ron will be so disappointed."
"Don't try to change the subject" she cried aloud, he resolve failing her miserably.
"I'm saying that you can't take this away from me. I'll try to slow it down, my consumption, but these things keep me alive. I refuse to give it up." It was her turn to feel defeated.
"Fine, but, try, I mean really try, to lessen your use. It doesn't make you cool or anything."
"I wouldn't take it if it did." Another silence fell. He knew she was going over everything he had said all over again.
"So you see HIM every night."
"Yes, but for Voldemort it's morning. He wakes at about eleven every night."
"Why did you say you hated Dumbledore?" So this was what was miffing her. He chuckled to himself.
"You actually took that seriously? No, I don't hate him, but I'm angry he never told me you were coming. I could have avoided this. But, come to think of it, he probably arranged for this to happen. He is very clever, and subtle, even for an old geyser." He touched his cheek. "You must have hit me harder than you hit Malfoy."
"Whatever, what did you say about the Malfoy's teaching you about people?"
"Reading people? I kinda visit them…"
"YOU WHAT!?!?"
"Shhhh, I have a headache, be quiet and let me finish. I go undercover as a potential Death-Eater. I wanted to major in "Muggle Torture" so I could spy on Malfoy, Lucius, but from what I see them do, I could get them both multiple life sentences in Azkaban, if it still existed. And if I could get any solid evidence."
"What if you get caught? Don't you care that what happens to you affects so many others? Your being irresponsibly dangerous."
"Being there is the safest place for me, minus here and Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore agrees with me. They won't even attempt to look for me there, and my artificial history matches up. I am a separate person, and I disappear for a while."
"When do you do this?"
"At night, sometimes I take time off from work and do it during the day. Look, we can finish this later. I have to get ready for work, before going there. I'll visit you at about six, six thirty tonight. Okay?" She sighed, she felt she had made no progress, but began to understand his turmoil, even if she didn't approve of the way he controlled it. She nodded glumly and got up. She opened the door and exited the room, halting in the hallway.
"Do you want your birthday present?" She hid her excitement well under her layers of disappointment, sadness, pity and anger. She planned to confess her love to him, and kiss him. She knew she saw something when she kissed him at her house, and she had convinced herself he had feelings for her, and that she should act upon that assumption. It was rash, especially for her, but she deemed it necessary because of Harry's screening of his emotions.
"No, I'll get it from you later, when I'll actually enjoy it. This is a piss-poor mood to give gifts in." She nodded understandingly and left. He never saw the tears trickle down her face.
19 Reviews for my last chapter, seriously…I love you guys. If I wasn't so reserved with my emotions I would probably cry. I love you all and beg you to continue. Pass word on of me, I want 100 reviews before I post the next chapter. 1-0-0. Okay? Do I hear grumbling? I'd better not. Oh, and If you want me to review your story, just ask. I am very open for reading my reviewers stories, and reviewing them (as long as it is not D/Hr, D/G, slash). This is my first fic and whether I write anymore depends on the performance of this fic. So far I've only gotten good input, and it makes me happy, but I would really enjoy to see someone honestly review with a critical eye.
RJLL – I love when people review something they don't go for, and enjoy, especially when it's mine;-) I know I'm special, but usually when people say I've got something special going on, they mean I ought to be in special-ed, But I like your special better. Thanx for the review.
tsuki tatsu – I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yes, It is a bit disturbing, I was in a dark mood then. I suppose it could happen. I try to go as extreme as possible with keeping it real and believable. So far, from what all my beloved reviewers say, I think I'm doing alright.
ADJ – I am not a god like NAPPA, I tripped yesterday and I DO bleed. (curses brother for driving away when half in the car). I do go brick by brick building slowly, but if I know anything about myself, I know that I get impatient, and hurry, and then I f$#@-up royally. I am trying to stop from doing that, which is why I need reviewers to say "chap 1-16 was great, awesome, but after that you went too fast, not enough detail, lame…" I need people to tell me when I first go wrong, which is why I particularly love Stoneheart, he/she tells me frankly what I do wrong, inconsistently, and it keeps me on track. So, you like dueling, I don't know how much there will be. There will be a lot of fighting, but I planned on making it more physical, as I have no experience with writing dueling (or anything else for that matter). I don't like draco at all, and I don't like Ron, but I am going to pay him a respect and not make as much of a, a, a, a, self-centered, self-pitying fool? He will grow up like everyone else, except maybe for Sirius. I love Sirius as a character, but I just can't write him well. I find too many contradictions, and it confuses me. I.E. Fun-loving prankster, stiff parent, protective, careless. It is hard to do, which is why I also love well done Sirius stories, because I marvel at the difficulty it takes to write em. No more waiting for u, another chapter done. If you review anyone else who enjoys H/Hr, send em my way. Thanx as always.
Duke of Earl – I like the way you think, but I had planned to leave the writer in the dark a bit. In this chapter you may have noticed that I go into each of their perspectives, yet I don't do them simultaneously, so you only get one at a time, to leave the thoughts of the other out there, suspected, but unsure. Also, periods of time will flash by, and we will go back and examine, so not everything is known. Right, the Hermione is blah, blah, blah… I was having a writers block in the idle of a chapter, and I had just thought of a good way to continue through, and I needed something down, so I went with the cliché. It won't happen again, I promise.
Kneazle – Nice to speak with you again. I'm not going to discuss your rant, but I read it and second it. My chapters are getting steadily longer, This one, without my responses to people is 5,600 something. Not bad for 2 hours work, but then add on the 2 hours editing, the 5 hours rewriting because my crap computer chewed it up and spit it out, and I'm just happy I'm done here. Vernon/Harry, in case anyone that sick is reading will not become intimate *mumbles something about sick perverts while a few "damn"'s echo from the crowd* They will become accepting of each other, but not much more. The baby will become a character in my six year fic. It will not be magical, sorry to kill the suspense, but it will know of Harry's magic, and it will adore him. I'm sorry you and your friends went through a similar situation. Relationships are too much trouble, which is why I favor one night stands. (kidding) Hey, Don't be dissing Voldemort. Him being a pervert isn't new, its just the first time its been made public. Thank you for your support, and I will continue happily on my way.
Stoneheart – Of course Voldemort gets some. Hitler was just a freak. All the downright evil have to get some, or they aren't evil enough. Sexual torture has to be the worst (though I may be wrong from my lack of experience, this is just logic going on). Vernon gets some because we are liking him in my novel, at least for the time being. Dudley, in Harry's clothes, don't you see? Put on your glasses. Of course Dudley wouldn't fit, but she would force the clothes on anyway, tearing them. So Harry, in the end would receive his clothes back, torn to pieces. Petunia is an evil one. I fixed the dialog glitch, thanx for pointing it out. Yes we do idolize Harry, and as men aspire to be the modest, popular all-round good guy that gets the girl. I don't see what woman see in Ron. His straightforwardness? C'mon, that's no fun. Hermione will see Harry a couple of times more before he goes pop and is no longer on the island. Though I like to think of England as more of a lily pad, all along, sitting in the water. Sorry if I offended and British peeps, but I just don't see it as an island. Greenland, now that's a bloody island;-). No need to be brief. I don't dislike, but I don't enjoy the "Great chapter, Keep writing…" reviews. Yours make me smile, and laugh. Thank you, and have a great journey through the world of fan fiction (a.k.a. Wannabe writers, just like me)
Freda Potter – Freda, Freda, Freda, again I have to chastise you!!! In one small trivial way, you are right, Harry wasn't the motorcycle type, but don't you watch those silly anti-drug commercials. The largest affect on a child, or teen, is his parents. Harry just got his parent, who he adores. Harry wants to be like Sirius, in a way, so he wants the motorcycle. It gives him something to do. JKR never said anything about Sirius in leather, so why would Harry want leather? Silly girl! You should reflect on the sinful thought you have had, and then read some more good ole fan fiction. Harry will wear leather, eventually, but it will be small and not that important. In other words if you are reading my fic just to see Harry in leather, than I recommend you stop now, as long as you come back and review for me every so often. Thanks.
Hayley – I am kind of thick, considering I am responding at 4:37, no 38 in the morning, after staying up all night, so would you mind clarifying what you were talking about in your review, I would appreciate it. Thank you for reviewing.
Thank you to everyone who I didn't respond to directly. There may be a few reasons why I didn't respond to you, if you just told me to keep going and that it was a good chapter, then There isn't much I can say other than thanx. Otherwise, I may have answered your questions or comments in one of the above responses and was too tired to repeat it. Read them, ^ Otherwise, I'm going o pass out soon, and just say something and I'll go back and look at it if you want and write a double response (ooooooh) next chapter.
Thank You, Everybody, for the time you spent reading and reviewing my humble work, I hope to hear from you again soon. For everyone else, Please Read and Review!! Flame if you have to, I accept everything. Happy reading!!!
