A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!! You guys are the best!
Disclaimer: You know this bit already.
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The prospect of ringing in the New Year with someone other than Ron and Hermione for a change was rather appealing to Harry, especially since the someone happened to be quite beautiful, happened to be quite good at kissing, and happened to have a quite empty house. Gia's father and step- mother had gone to Paris for the entire weekend, leaving Gia to housesit and take care of the pets. Of course, the entire weekend was really only two nights, one of which had already passed. However, the night they were facing was different than the last for one major reason.
The Grangers also happened to be out of town for the evening.
They were attending some fancy party in London and weren't expected back until sometime late the next morning. They'd left around six and had left strict instructions that their house had better be in the same shape when they got back as it was when they left. Of course, Harry really didn't have any concern for these instructions, as he didn't plan on being there anyway. Gia had asked if he could get away with not being at the Grangers for the night, and since the opportunity was simply too easy to pass up, he promised that he'd stay with her. He wasn't really worried about getting into trouble because the only people who would know where he was would be Ron and Hermione, and they certainly wouldn't tell on him. Of course, the fact that the only two people who would know would be Ron and Hermione was the only aspect of the night that was unappealing.
They would be the only two to know because they'd be the only two in the house. Which, of course, meant that they'd be alone in Hermione's house. All night. Together.
Harry wasn't blind; he was well-aware of the fact that they liked each other. He'd tried to ignore it at first, but some things were just too hard to miss. He'd seen it before they left school, and he saw it even more now. He actually wondered if something was already going on and they weren't telling him; all of the shared little looks between his best friends certainly made it seem that way. But would they really keep something like that from him? Harry didn't think so. At least he didn't want to think so- that was a big secret to keep, and if they were keeping it, then that would be the first sign in the slow breakdown of the 'trio.' It would be the first sign of 'two with one on the side.'
Harry didn't like the sound of that.
The thought of them together was bad enough; the thought of them together and keeping it a secret from him was just too much to ask. They were supposed to be a team. They weren't supposed to have secrets.
Of course, Harry hadn't been completely open to them about his relationship with Gia, but that was different. Gia wasn't Hermione. She wasn't their best friend. It wasn't the same.
But Harry had pushed all thoughts of Ron and Hermione out of his head by the time he fell asleep beside Gia, in her bed. The night had been good. Very good. They'd counted down to the New Year and shared a wonderful kiss just after midnight. Mix that in with a fair amount of snogging on the side, and you'd have the perfect evening. He could hardly believe how nice it felt to lie there beside her with an arm draped over her waist. It felt incredibly grown up and... and just right. It had been so easy to drop off into a peaceful sleep like this that Harry hadn't really had time to ponder anything at all. He'd made sure not to sleep too soundly though; if they both fell into deep sleeps, it was possible that they would oversleep, and that was something they definitely didn't want to do.
It was because of this light sleep that he jerked awake so easily at the first sign of movement beside him. He remembered immediately where he was, and his first thought was that morning had come far too quickly for his taste. However, upon opening his eyes, he realized that her room was still flooded with darkness, and that Gia hadn't simply stirred, she had extricated herself completely from his grasp. Something like hurt settled over him for a moment, and he was surprised at how empty he felt the second she sat up beside him.
He watched her for a moment, taking the sight of her in. She was dressed in a pale pink tank top and shorts, which was, by far, the most revealing outfit he'd had the pleasure of seeing her in due to the cold December weather. She was thin, but her arms were delicately defined with small muscles, and the shirt lifted up just enough to reveal the side of her defined stomach as the cover dropped away from her. He let his eyes wonder over the other parts of her, too, as she sat in full view of him. Her legs were long for the relatively short height that she filled, and she was like Hermione in the fact that she wasn't really big anywhere at all, but not really lacking, either. Harry blushed slightly when he realized just how many times he'd caught himself looking at Hermione's figure over the past year, but he didn't miss the fact that Gia's figure was an awful lot like his female best friend's, the main exception being the fact that Gia quite obviously worked out and had a bit more muscle than Hermione did; apparently lifting a three ton book satchel wasn't enough to tone Hermione's arms. Gia's hair was a mess of curls that looked absolutely tantalizing as the moonlight reflected off her blonde and golden highlights.
She truly was beautiful.
But something was wrong.
She was staring at something that Harry couldn't see, and he wondered why she was completely ignoring his presence. Reaching onto the bedside table for his glasses, he slipped them onto his face and sat up beside her.
"Gia?"
She gave no indication of having heard him at all. In fact, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Not saying a word, she walked straight for her door, opened it, and exited into the hallway. For a split second, Harry contemplated whether or not he should go after her; if she wasn't speaking to him, then she probably didn't want him following her. But then again, she hadn't really looked as if she even knew where she was, and he wasn't sure that was such a great thing.
Not hesitating any longer, Harry got out of the bed and followed her into the dark hallway. He barely caught a glimpse of her as she disappeared down the stairs. Rushing to catch up, he managed to see her turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, continue down the main corridor, and shut herself in a room near the end of the hall. He was at the door in seconds and knocked timidly. "Gia?" There was no answer. "Gia, are you okay?"
When she still didn't answer, Harry took it upon himself to open the door and enter. It was a small room; a few bookshelves lined one wall while a sewing machine backed against another. An oversized rocking chair sat in the center of the room, and Harry saw immediately that Gia had curled up in the chair, her knees pulled to her chest and her face in her lap. Her hair spilled out over her shoulders as she hugged her legs tightly. For a long moment, Harry just watched her.
She had no idea he was in the room.
In fact, he wasn't even sure that she was awake.
Swallowing a bit uneasily, Harry carefully crossed the room and knelt in front of the chair. "Gia?" he asked softly. Her eyes were open, but they were dazed and unfocused; she gave no sign of having heard him at all. With a slightly shaking hand, he reached up and nervously touched her arm. "Are you okay?" He squeezed it slightly. "Gia, wake up."
All of a sudden, she shook her head and lifted it from her knees. She seemed startled to have someone speaking to her, and Harry watched as her eyes turned back to normal and she finally looked at him. It took her a moment to get oriented, but immediately after figuring out what was going on, she let her legs drop to the floor and sat up very straight. Her face was flushed, and she looked extremely embarrassed; she looked away from him, biting her lower lip.
Harry didn't know what to do. It was very awkward for both of them, but he figured he should at least say something. They silence certainly wasn't helping the situation. "Are you alright?" It was quiet and reserved, clearly telling her that he would listen if she wanted him to but wouldn't prod if she didn't.
At the sound of his voice, Gia turned back to him, and her green eyes met his own as they shared a very telling look. "I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly, never breaking eye-contact. "I'm fine. It's... I sleepwalk." She pursed her lips slightly.
"Oh."
"I should have told you," she went on softly. "But I don't do it that often anymore. I didn't think... I haven't done it in awhile."
Harry watched her, giving her the freedom to speak as she wished. Her voice continued in quiet, calm intervals.
"But this was my mum's room. Her hobby room," she clarified softly. "I... I don't come down here unless I'm asleep..."
"Are you okay now?"
She nodded, chewing on her lower lip slightly. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."
She stood up and walked past him, not looking back as she exited the room and headed back down the corridor toward the stairs. Harry stood up slowly and followed her out of the room, shutting the door carefully and ignoring the little shiver that shot through him.
As he made his way back to Gia's room, he thought about her. He wondered if sleepwalking was as far as it went. Or was she plagued with images of her mother's dying self in the hospital bed the same way he was plagued with the sound of his mother's dying screams. He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember. But even when he'd been very small, they'd never been normal childhood nightmares like fear of what was hiding in the corners or of the monsters under the bed. He'd seen strange images, twisted images of darkness and misery- images that shouldn't have had a look but somehow did, images that a child shouldn't have known. As he'd gotten older, the nightmares had defined themselves more, and when he'd finally learned the truth about his parents' deaths, he'd started dreaming about that night so many years before. It was silly, of course; he couldn't really remember it, but it somehow felt like he could see it perfectly in his dreams. The whole night was completely clear and in an odd third person sort of view; he saw it from an outsider's point of view and not through the eyes of a baby. He could see his father trying to block the door, hear the shouted words of fury, see the green flash, hear his mother scream his dad's name, see her cradle him tightly, hear the words again, and see the next green flash.
It was real.
And things were worse now than they'd ever been. His dreams were now mixed with so many other things beside just the images of his parents being murdered. He saw Cedric's dead body, heard his final request that his body be taken back to his parents. And, of course, he heard His voice- Voldemort's.
"Kill the spare."
The spare. Voldemort didn't even know Cedric's name, didn't give a damn who he hurt as long as he got at the one he wanted more than anyone else. Harry.
His dreams were plagued by this thought nightly. Each night, his brain rambled on and on about what had been and what was to come. Who would be the next spare?
Colin Creevey? Hagrid? Seamus Finnigan? Professor Lupin? Parvati Patil? Dumbledore? Sirius?
Hermione?
Ron?
Did it matter to Voldemort who he had to dispose of in order to achieve his goal? Did he care at all that none of those people had ever done anything wrong? Did it bother him that he had no conscience?
Of course not. In fact, the entire last question was nothing but a very morose oxymoron.
He simply didn't care.
Voldemort would do whatever he had to do to get at Harry. And Harry saw this each night as he drifted off to sleep. He faced a horrible decision each and every night- stay awake and let his mind wander aimlessly in the darkened quiet or go to sleep and watch his best friends being tortured and murdered.
Neither was any better than the other.
Lost in thoughts of his dreams, Harry barely noticed that he'd reached Gia's room. He looked up finally and saw her standing by her bureau, still chewing nervously on her lower lip. She met his eyes again, and he saw something in them that was rather sacred and somehow managed to make all thoughts of Voldemort disappear.
"Thank you." Her voice was still quiet and a bit shaky, barely a whisper but perfectly audible.
Harry watched her as she slowly crossed the room; neither of them said a word, but the looks being shared between them were enough to speak volumes. Gia stopped in front of him and timidly raised a hand to his neck and let it sit there.
"No one's ever come to find me before." She looked meaningfully at him and raised herself onto tip-toe to place a soft kiss against his lips. She lowered herself and continued to stare at him; he felt he could melt from the intensity of her look. It was amazing. Placing her other hand on his back, she pulled him to her just a bit and used the hand that was still resting against his neck to draw him down to her, gently pressing her lips against the skin right below his ear. She placed another tiny kiss right at the bottom of his lobe and quietly whispered something that tore at his heart. "I don't want you to leave."
He understood without further clarification exactly what she meant. She'd spent her entire life with no one who really cared; she had friends, sure, but none of them had ever really listened to her. He was like the first real friend she'd ever had, and Harry remembered perfectly the feelings he'd gotten the first time he'd realized he finally had real friends- the first time he'd found someone who actually cared.
But he and Gia weren't just friends- their connection was deeper than that. And Harry became completely aware of just how deep their connection went when she slowly dragged her lips across the lower part of his jaw-line and up to his lips. She kissed him there finally in a long and slow torture that he wouldn't have dreamed of stopping.
Harry had learned several things over the past few weeks, not the least of which had been how easy it was to get caught up in Gia. They'd engaged themselves in several make-out sessions, and Harry had enjoyed them. Immensely.
But this was quite different.
Her lips were moving under his in a slow and meaningful way, and Harry allowed himself to be guided through the kiss. He shivered slightly as he felt the hand that was resting on his back, snake under the material of his shirt; her fingernails grazed gently against his skin, and Harry's own hands somehow found their ways onto her hips. He could kiss her forever, he was sure of it, and never tire.
Especially the way she was kissing him right now.
The other hand dropped, too, and found its way under the back of his t- shirt as well. He wanted to focus on the way it felt to be kissed and touched at the same time by a girl, but he also knew that focusing on such was only going to get him worked up in a rather painful way- something he'd come to know quite closely over the past few weeks. It wasn't his fault, of course; he couldn't help the fact that he was a fifteen year old boy. But it was rather hard to keep a clear head when she was rubbing her fingertips into his skin.
She pulled away from the kiss just slightly but didn't remove her hands from their hiding place under his shirt. "What sport do you play?" she asked breathlessly.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously. "Huh?" He was surprised that he could even manage a single syllable.
"You have muscles," she explained, running her hands up his back in demonstration. "And I know you're not naturally built like that because," she giggled and chastely kissed his lips, "you're a bit short for that."
Five years of Quidditch training hadn't sent him into a growth spurt, that was sure. But it hadn't left him as scrawny and skinny as he'd once been. He really didn't notice it too much, but if Gia did... Well, then that was fantastic.
"Uh," he swallowed and thought his words out carefully. "It's just this sport we play at school. It's a bit like football. People try to make goals and there's like... a goalie person..." He hoped it didn't sound stupid explained out loud. He left out the part about the brooms and the Snitch and the bone-crushing Bludgers; he somehow didn't think she'd keep on doing what she was doing if he threw that at her.
And he did want her to keep going.
Gia smiled at him, a shy smile that screamed of everything innocent and not- so-innocent about her. It was brilliant. Without further questioning, she leaned up again and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head to capture her lips in another slow, searing kiss that left both of them inhaling sharply when they finally broke away.
It was then that Harry lost complete control of his brain.
Without another hesitation, Gia gathered the bottom of his t-shirt in her fists and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the ground beside them. Harry stared at her, and she looked up with slightly twinkling eyes, a giggle escaping her lips and causing Harry to become suddenly incredibly self-conscious.
"What?" he asked, searching her eyes with his own.
She laughed lightly and shook her head, bringing a hand up and smoothing down some of his raven locks. "Your hair's a mess," she giggled.
Harry relaxed and sent her a pointed look. "Oh, there's a surprise," he said sarcastically. Then he rolled his eyes slightly and moved one hand from her hip to her own hair, carelessly tugging on a curl, her hair still wild from sleep. "Yours isn't so perfect right now, either."
Gia laughed again and didn't remove her hand from his thick hair. She pressed her lips back to his, kissing him for a long moment before moving her hand tighter around the back of his head and kissing the bottom of his chin and then his neck. He wanted to kiss her back, but the way they were positioned made it difficult, so he settled for letting one arm run aimlessly up and down her bare arm while the other stayed pressed to the center of her back. As she ran her hot mouth over his shoulder, he suddenly realized what was actually happening.
Harry wasn't sure just how much experience Gia had in certain areas, but he was fairly certain and willing to bet his entire fortune that it was more than he had. Thoughts flooded his mind at once. He'd only met her a few weeks ago. But he trusted her and liked her more than he could ever remember liking a girl. She obviously knew what she was doing. Well, he needed someone to teach him, didn't he? They were only fifteen. They were fifteen years old and couldn't help it. He wasn't sure they should go on. Her hand slid slowly down his stomach, and, oh, yes, he was sure...
It was as if every thought he had turning him off of the idea of continuing was immediately countered with a good reason why they should keep going. His mind was a ramble of incoherent reasons, both for the pros and the cons, and he couldn't sort them out at all. He needed to be logical; he needed to think logically like...
What was her name?
He found that something as simple as remembering his female best friend's name was completely too much of a task for his brain to handle at the moment. A second later, he couldn't even remember why he needed to think of her name. The only name he could think of was Gia because it happened to slip from his lips without his knowledge when he felt the outside of her fingers run slowly and deliberately from their place in his hair down his spine to the base of his spine.
She stopped for a moment at the sound of her name and looked up at him. "It's okay," she whispered as if she could read all of his thoughts. Pushing her other arm around his waist as well, she stepped closer to him and stood in a way that made listening to her a very difficult task. "We can stop," she whispered again, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss against his upper chest. She continued to plant those same tiny kisses in an upward trail under his chin, across his jaw, and finally to his lips, which she whispered against. "If you want to."
By this time, he couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want to stop, and he managed a slight shake of the head as she kissed him again, finally allowing him to kiss her back. All of the incoherent thoughts were completely absent as he carefully explored her mouth with his tongue; in fact, the only thing he could think of at all was how he didn't want to be standing anymore. It seemed to be getting too difficult of a task.
Once again, as if she could read his mind, Gia's hand went back to his neck and she guided him backwards toward the bed in the middle of her room, never once breaking the kiss. They parted from each other slightly when their backwards movement was halted by her knees knocking into the side of her bed. Harry stared at her, trying desperately to take all of her in at once. She was so bloody gorgeous; it was impossible.
The tip of Gia's tongue darted out and quickly moistened her pink lips. Without a word, she placed both hands on either side of his neck and kissed him again, bringing him down over her as she first sat and then scooted back to lay on the bed. Before Harry could even comprehend the switch of gravity, he found himself lying above her and looking down into her eyes, which were such a different green from his own- such a soft and gentle green. He wondered briefly if he was crushing her and pushed himself up slightly. She smiled as he did so and ran a hand lightly across his lips.
"We can stop whenever you want to," she whispered, her cheeks flushed slightly.
And they did stop.
Several long minutes of kissing and soft touching later, Harry pulled away, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get up the strength to do so in just a few more moments. He wanted her desperately, in ways he'd never imagined he would feel on this short Christmas holiday. But he also wanted her to know that it wasn't just about that. He liked her for so many reasons other than the fact that she didn't stop his hand as it carefully explored the upper recesses of her body over the thin material of her pajama shirt. He liked her because she was so much more than physically beautiful.
It was almost frightening just how much he liked her.
They were both breathless when he rolled away, telling her that he needed to stop. "I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. "You probably think I'm stupid." He was definitely beginning to think of himself as stupid; he'd just stopped when... Was nothing at all normal about him?
He heard her sigh very quietly beside him and watched as she rolled onto her side and draped a pale arm across his still bare chest. "No, I don't," she said quietly, looking up to smile softly with her eyes. "I think you're perfect."
Harry kissed her cheek gently and took her hand into his own, watching as she grinned and tucked her head deeper into his arms. In an almost absent voice, she said, "I wonder if I asked my dad... I wonder if he'd let me go to boarding school."
Harry's eyes immediately grew to twice their previous size as she kissed his shoulder once more and settled into him, closing her eyes, and, seemingly on instant, falling asleep.
He watched for a long moment, a million and one thoughts once again flooding his brain. She wanted to transfer to his school... This was beyond possible for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the main problem with what she'd just said. Her words had made him fully realize for the first time that he was leaving. In just five days, he would be back at Hogwarts. And he didn't know when he'd see her again. How was he expected to do that? He could barely stand the times that they were apart now; how was he going to survive when he didn't even know the next time he'd get to be with her? And how were they even going to communicate? Muggle post didn't run at Hogwarts, and even it did, it wouldn't have mattered because she thought he went to St. Mary's. And there certainly weren't any telephones at Hogwarts; he could call her from Hogsmeade, he supposed, but how was he supposed to explain that the only communication they could share was a brief telephone conversation the third Saturday of each month?
He'd spent a few brief weeks experiencing the most exhilarating things he'd ever felt, and it was all about to be over.
Everything about Gia was brilliant, and he didn't want to leave her. He was just getting to know her. It wasn't fair.
All of these thoughts and more fluttered through his brain as he drifted into his own sleep. They were all pushed aside for one single question, though. A question that frightened Harry far worse than Voldemort ever had.
Was it possible to fall in love when you were just fifteen?
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Next up, Ron and Hermione's New Year's Eve!
And also, there has been a slight controversy in some of the recent reviews of that deal with Chapter 24. I know that was posted awhile back, but someone has just recently read it and taken offense to it. That was the chapter where I dealt with the issue of Ron and Hermione discussing the existence of God. Those opinions are simply that- opinions. They were meant in no way to offend anyone or sway anyone's beliefs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, and I am extremely religiously tolerant. It was never my intent to try and push my views on other people, so if it came across that way, then I'm sorry.
With that said... I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the delay!
Disclaimer: You know this bit already.
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The prospect of ringing in the New Year with someone other than Ron and Hermione for a change was rather appealing to Harry, especially since the someone happened to be quite beautiful, happened to be quite good at kissing, and happened to have a quite empty house. Gia's father and step- mother had gone to Paris for the entire weekend, leaving Gia to housesit and take care of the pets. Of course, the entire weekend was really only two nights, one of which had already passed. However, the night they were facing was different than the last for one major reason.
The Grangers also happened to be out of town for the evening.
They were attending some fancy party in London and weren't expected back until sometime late the next morning. They'd left around six and had left strict instructions that their house had better be in the same shape when they got back as it was when they left. Of course, Harry really didn't have any concern for these instructions, as he didn't plan on being there anyway. Gia had asked if he could get away with not being at the Grangers for the night, and since the opportunity was simply too easy to pass up, he promised that he'd stay with her. He wasn't really worried about getting into trouble because the only people who would know where he was would be Ron and Hermione, and they certainly wouldn't tell on him. Of course, the fact that the only two people who would know would be Ron and Hermione was the only aspect of the night that was unappealing.
They would be the only two to know because they'd be the only two in the house. Which, of course, meant that they'd be alone in Hermione's house. All night. Together.
Harry wasn't blind; he was well-aware of the fact that they liked each other. He'd tried to ignore it at first, but some things were just too hard to miss. He'd seen it before they left school, and he saw it even more now. He actually wondered if something was already going on and they weren't telling him; all of the shared little looks between his best friends certainly made it seem that way. But would they really keep something like that from him? Harry didn't think so. At least he didn't want to think so- that was a big secret to keep, and if they were keeping it, then that would be the first sign in the slow breakdown of the 'trio.' It would be the first sign of 'two with one on the side.'
Harry didn't like the sound of that.
The thought of them together was bad enough; the thought of them together and keeping it a secret from him was just too much to ask. They were supposed to be a team. They weren't supposed to have secrets.
Of course, Harry hadn't been completely open to them about his relationship with Gia, but that was different. Gia wasn't Hermione. She wasn't their best friend. It wasn't the same.
But Harry had pushed all thoughts of Ron and Hermione out of his head by the time he fell asleep beside Gia, in her bed. The night had been good. Very good. They'd counted down to the New Year and shared a wonderful kiss just after midnight. Mix that in with a fair amount of snogging on the side, and you'd have the perfect evening. He could hardly believe how nice it felt to lie there beside her with an arm draped over her waist. It felt incredibly grown up and... and just right. It had been so easy to drop off into a peaceful sleep like this that Harry hadn't really had time to ponder anything at all. He'd made sure not to sleep too soundly though; if they both fell into deep sleeps, it was possible that they would oversleep, and that was something they definitely didn't want to do.
It was because of this light sleep that he jerked awake so easily at the first sign of movement beside him. He remembered immediately where he was, and his first thought was that morning had come far too quickly for his taste. However, upon opening his eyes, he realized that her room was still flooded with darkness, and that Gia hadn't simply stirred, she had extricated herself completely from his grasp. Something like hurt settled over him for a moment, and he was surprised at how empty he felt the second she sat up beside him.
He watched her for a moment, taking the sight of her in. She was dressed in a pale pink tank top and shorts, which was, by far, the most revealing outfit he'd had the pleasure of seeing her in due to the cold December weather. She was thin, but her arms were delicately defined with small muscles, and the shirt lifted up just enough to reveal the side of her defined stomach as the cover dropped away from her. He let his eyes wonder over the other parts of her, too, as she sat in full view of him. Her legs were long for the relatively short height that she filled, and she was like Hermione in the fact that she wasn't really big anywhere at all, but not really lacking, either. Harry blushed slightly when he realized just how many times he'd caught himself looking at Hermione's figure over the past year, but he didn't miss the fact that Gia's figure was an awful lot like his female best friend's, the main exception being the fact that Gia quite obviously worked out and had a bit more muscle than Hermione did; apparently lifting a three ton book satchel wasn't enough to tone Hermione's arms. Gia's hair was a mess of curls that looked absolutely tantalizing as the moonlight reflected off her blonde and golden highlights.
She truly was beautiful.
But something was wrong.
She was staring at something that Harry couldn't see, and he wondered why she was completely ignoring his presence. Reaching onto the bedside table for his glasses, he slipped them onto his face and sat up beside her.
"Gia?"
She gave no indication of having heard him at all. In fact, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Not saying a word, she walked straight for her door, opened it, and exited into the hallway. For a split second, Harry contemplated whether or not he should go after her; if she wasn't speaking to him, then she probably didn't want him following her. But then again, she hadn't really looked as if she even knew where she was, and he wasn't sure that was such a great thing.
Not hesitating any longer, Harry got out of the bed and followed her into the dark hallway. He barely caught a glimpse of her as she disappeared down the stairs. Rushing to catch up, he managed to see her turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, continue down the main corridor, and shut herself in a room near the end of the hall. He was at the door in seconds and knocked timidly. "Gia?" There was no answer. "Gia, are you okay?"
When she still didn't answer, Harry took it upon himself to open the door and enter. It was a small room; a few bookshelves lined one wall while a sewing machine backed against another. An oversized rocking chair sat in the center of the room, and Harry saw immediately that Gia had curled up in the chair, her knees pulled to her chest and her face in her lap. Her hair spilled out over her shoulders as she hugged her legs tightly. For a long moment, Harry just watched her.
She had no idea he was in the room.
In fact, he wasn't even sure that she was awake.
Swallowing a bit uneasily, Harry carefully crossed the room and knelt in front of the chair. "Gia?" he asked softly. Her eyes were open, but they were dazed and unfocused; she gave no sign of having heard him at all. With a slightly shaking hand, he reached up and nervously touched her arm. "Are you okay?" He squeezed it slightly. "Gia, wake up."
All of a sudden, she shook her head and lifted it from her knees. She seemed startled to have someone speaking to her, and Harry watched as her eyes turned back to normal and she finally looked at him. It took her a moment to get oriented, but immediately after figuring out what was going on, she let her legs drop to the floor and sat up very straight. Her face was flushed, and she looked extremely embarrassed; she looked away from him, biting her lower lip.
Harry didn't know what to do. It was very awkward for both of them, but he figured he should at least say something. They silence certainly wasn't helping the situation. "Are you alright?" It was quiet and reserved, clearly telling her that he would listen if she wanted him to but wouldn't prod if she didn't.
At the sound of his voice, Gia turned back to him, and her green eyes met his own as they shared a very telling look. "I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly, never breaking eye-contact. "I'm fine. It's... I sleepwalk." She pursed her lips slightly.
"Oh."
"I should have told you," she went on softly. "But I don't do it that often anymore. I didn't think... I haven't done it in awhile."
Harry watched her, giving her the freedom to speak as she wished. Her voice continued in quiet, calm intervals.
"But this was my mum's room. Her hobby room," she clarified softly. "I... I don't come down here unless I'm asleep..."
"Are you okay now?"
She nodded, chewing on her lower lip slightly. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."
She stood up and walked past him, not looking back as she exited the room and headed back down the corridor toward the stairs. Harry stood up slowly and followed her out of the room, shutting the door carefully and ignoring the little shiver that shot through him.
As he made his way back to Gia's room, he thought about her. He wondered if sleepwalking was as far as it went. Or was she plagued with images of her mother's dying self in the hospital bed the same way he was plagued with the sound of his mother's dying screams. He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember. But even when he'd been very small, they'd never been normal childhood nightmares like fear of what was hiding in the corners or of the monsters under the bed. He'd seen strange images, twisted images of darkness and misery- images that shouldn't have had a look but somehow did, images that a child shouldn't have known. As he'd gotten older, the nightmares had defined themselves more, and when he'd finally learned the truth about his parents' deaths, he'd started dreaming about that night so many years before. It was silly, of course; he couldn't really remember it, but it somehow felt like he could see it perfectly in his dreams. The whole night was completely clear and in an odd third person sort of view; he saw it from an outsider's point of view and not through the eyes of a baby. He could see his father trying to block the door, hear the shouted words of fury, see the green flash, hear his mother scream his dad's name, see her cradle him tightly, hear the words again, and see the next green flash.
It was real.
And things were worse now than they'd ever been. His dreams were now mixed with so many other things beside just the images of his parents being murdered. He saw Cedric's dead body, heard his final request that his body be taken back to his parents. And, of course, he heard His voice- Voldemort's.
"Kill the spare."
The spare. Voldemort didn't even know Cedric's name, didn't give a damn who he hurt as long as he got at the one he wanted more than anyone else. Harry.
His dreams were plagued by this thought nightly. Each night, his brain rambled on and on about what had been and what was to come. Who would be the next spare?
Colin Creevey? Hagrid? Seamus Finnigan? Professor Lupin? Parvati Patil? Dumbledore? Sirius?
Hermione?
Ron?
Did it matter to Voldemort who he had to dispose of in order to achieve his goal? Did he care at all that none of those people had ever done anything wrong? Did it bother him that he had no conscience?
Of course not. In fact, the entire last question was nothing but a very morose oxymoron.
He simply didn't care.
Voldemort would do whatever he had to do to get at Harry. And Harry saw this each night as he drifted off to sleep. He faced a horrible decision each and every night- stay awake and let his mind wander aimlessly in the darkened quiet or go to sleep and watch his best friends being tortured and murdered.
Neither was any better than the other.
Lost in thoughts of his dreams, Harry barely noticed that he'd reached Gia's room. He looked up finally and saw her standing by her bureau, still chewing nervously on her lower lip. She met his eyes again, and he saw something in them that was rather sacred and somehow managed to make all thoughts of Voldemort disappear.
"Thank you." Her voice was still quiet and a bit shaky, barely a whisper but perfectly audible.
Harry watched her as she slowly crossed the room; neither of them said a word, but the looks being shared between them were enough to speak volumes. Gia stopped in front of him and timidly raised a hand to his neck and let it sit there.
"No one's ever come to find me before." She looked meaningfully at him and raised herself onto tip-toe to place a soft kiss against his lips. She lowered herself and continued to stare at him; he felt he could melt from the intensity of her look. It was amazing. Placing her other hand on his back, she pulled him to her just a bit and used the hand that was still resting against his neck to draw him down to her, gently pressing her lips against the skin right below his ear. She placed another tiny kiss right at the bottom of his lobe and quietly whispered something that tore at his heart. "I don't want you to leave."
He understood without further clarification exactly what she meant. She'd spent her entire life with no one who really cared; she had friends, sure, but none of them had ever really listened to her. He was like the first real friend she'd ever had, and Harry remembered perfectly the feelings he'd gotten the first time he'd realized he finally had real friends- the first time he'd found someone who actually cared.
But he and Gia weren't just friends- their connection was deeper than that. And Harry became completely aware of just how deep their connection went when she slowly dragged her lips across the lower part of his jaw-line and up to his lips. She kissed him there finally in a long and slow torture that he wouldn't have dreamed of stopping.
Harry had learned several things over the past few weeks, not the least of which had been how easy it was to get caught up in Gia. They'd engaged themselves in several make-out sessions, and Harry had enjoyed them. Immensely.
But this was quite different.
Her lips were moving under his in a slow and meaningful way, and Harry allowed himself to be guided through the kiss. He shivered slightly as he felt the hand that was resting on his back, snake under the material of his shirt; her fingernails grazed gently against his skin, and Harry's own hands somehow found their ways onto her hips. He could kiss her forever, he was sure of it, and never tire.
Especially the way she was kissing him right now.
The other hand dropped, too, and found its way under the back of his t- shirt as well. He wanted to focus on the way it felt to be kissed and touched at the same time by a girl, but he also knew that focusing on such was only going to get him worked up in a rather painful way- something he'd come to know quite closely over the past few weeks. It wasn't his fault, of course; he couldn't help the fact that he was a fifteen year old boy. But it was rather hard to keep a clear head when she was rubbing her fingertips into his skin.
She pulled away from the kiss just slightly but didn't remove her hands from their hiding place under his shirt. "What sport do you play?" she asked breathlessly.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously. "Huh?" He was surprised that he could even manage a single syllable.
"You have muscles," she explained, running her hands up his back in demonstration. "And I know you're not naturally built like that because," she giggled and chastely kissed his lips, "you're a bit short for that."
Five years of Quidditch training hadn't sent him into a growth spurt, that was sure. But it hadn't left him as scrawny and skinny as he'd once been. He really didn't notice it too much, but if Gia did... Well, then that was fantastic.
"Uh," he swallowed and thought his words out carefully. "It's just this sport we play at school. It's a bit like football. People try to make goals and there's like... a goalie person..." He hoped it didn't sound stupid explained out loud. He left out the part about the brooms and the Snitch and the bone-crushing Bludgers; he somehow didn't think she'd keep on doing what she was doing if he threw that at her.
And he did want her to keep going.
Gia smiled at him, a shy smile that screamed of everything innocent and not- so-innocent about her. It was brilliant. Without further questioning, she leaned up again and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head to capture her lips in another slow, searing kiss that left both of them inhaling sharply when they finally broke away.
It was then that Harry lost complete control of his brain.
Without another hesitation, Gia gathered the bottom of his t-shirt in her fists and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the ground beside them. Harry stared at her, and she looked up with slightly twinkling eyes, a giggle escaping her lips and causing Harry to become suddenly incredibly self-conscious.
"What?" he asked, searching her eyes with his own.
She laughed lightly and shook her head, bringing a hand up and smoothing down some of his raven locks. "Your hair's a mess," she giggled.
Harry relaxed and sent her a pointed look. "Oh, there's a surprise," he said sarcastically. Then he rolled his eyes slightly and moved one hand from her hip to her own hair, carelessly tugging on a curl, her hair still wild from sleep. "Yours isn't so perfect right now, either."
Gia laughed again and didn't remove her hand from his thick hair. She pressed her lips back to his, kissing him for a long moment before moving her hand tighter around the back of his head and kissing the bottom of his chin and then his neck. He wanted to kiss her back, but the way they were positioned made it difficult, so he settled for letting one arm run aimlessly up and down her bare arm while the other stayed pressed to the center of her back. As she ran her hot mouth over his shoulder, he suddenly realized what was actually happening.
Harry wasn't sure just how much experience Gia had in certain areas, but he was fairly certain and willing to bet his entire fortune that it was more than he had. Thoughts flooded his mind at once. He'd only met her a few weeks ago. But he trusted her and liked her more than he could ever remember liking a girl. She obviously knew what she was doing. Well, he needed someone to teach him, didn't he? They were only fifteen. They were fifteen years old and couldn't help it. He wasn't sure they should go on. Her hand slid slowly down his stomach, and, oh, yes, he was sure...
It was as if every thought he had turning him off of the idea of continuing was immediately countered with a good reason why they should keep going. His mind was a ramble of incoherent reasons, both for the pros and the cons, and he couldn't sort them out at all. He needed to be logical; he needed to think logically like...
What was her name?
He found that something as simple as remembering his female best friend's name was completely too much of a task for his brain to handle at the moment. A second later, he couldn't even remember why he needed to think of her name. The only name he could think of was Gia because it happened to slip from his lips without his knowledge when he felt the outside of her fingers run slowly and deliberately from their place in his hair down his spine to the base of his spine.
She stopped for a moment at the sound of her name and looked up at him. "It's okay," she whispered as if she could read all of his thoughts. Pushing her other arm around his waist as well, she stepped closer to him and stood in a way that made listening to her a very difficult task. "We can stop," she whispered again, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss against his upper chest. She continued to plant those same tiny kisses in an upward trail under his chin, across his jaw, and finally to his lips, which she whispered against. "If you want to."
By this time, he couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want to stop, and he managed a slight shake of the head as she kissed him again, finally allowing him to kiss her back. All of the incoherent thoughts were completely absent as he carefully explored her mouth with his tongue; in fact, the only thing he could think of at all was how he didn't want to be standing anymore. It seemed to be getting too difficult of a task.
Once again, as if she could read his mind, Gia's hand went back to his neck and she guided him backwards toward the bed in the middle of her room, never once breaking the kiss. They parted from each other slightly when their backwards movement was halted by her knees knocking into the side of her bed. Harry stared at her, trying desperately to take all of her in at once. She was so bloody gorgeous; it was impossible.
The tip of Gia's tongue darted out and quickly moistened her pink lips. Without a word, she placed both hands on either side of his neck and kissed him again, bringing him down over her as she first sat and then scooted back to lay on the bed. Before Harry could even comprehend the switch of gravity, he found himself lying above her and looking down into her eyes, which were such a different green from his own- such a soft and gentle green. He wondered briefly if he was crushing her and pushed himself up slightly. She smiled as he did so and ran a hand lightly across his lips.
"We can stop whenever you want to," she whispered, her cheeks flushed slightly.
And they did stop.
Several long minutes of kissing and soft touching later, Harry pulled away, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get up the strength to do so in just a few more moments. He wanted her desperately, in ways he'd never imagined he would feel on this short Christmas holiday. But he also wanted her to know that it wasn't just about that. He liked her for so many reasons other than the fact that she didn't stop his hand as it carefully explored the upper recesses of her body over the thin material of her pajama shirt. He liked her because she was so much more than physically beautiful.
It was almost frightening just how much he liked her.
They were both breathless when he rolled away, telling her that he needed to stop. "I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. "You probably think I'm stupid." He was definitely beginning to think of himself as stupid; he'd just stopped when... Was nothing at all normal about him?
He heard her sigh very quietly beside him and watched as she rolled onto her side and draped a pale arm across his still bare chest. "No, I don't," she said quietly, looking up to smile softly with her eyes. "I think you're perfect."
Harry kissed her cheek gently and took her hand into his own, watching as she grinned and tucked her head deeper into his arms. In an almost absent voice, she said, "I wonder if I asked my dad... I wonder if he'd let me go to boarding school."
Harry's eyes immediately grew to twice their previous size as she kissed his shoulder once more and settled into him, closing her eyes, and, seemingly on instant, falling asleep.
He watched for a long moment, a million and one thoughts once again flooding his brain. She wanted to transfer to his school... This was beyond possible for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the main problem with what she'd just said. Her words had made him fully realize for the first time that he was leaving. In just five days, he would be back at Hogwarts. And he didn't know when he'd see her again. How was he expected to do that? He could barely stand the times that they were apart now; how was he going to survive when he didn't even know the next time he'd get to be with her? And how were they even going to communicate? Muggle post didn't run at Hogwarts, and even it did, it wouldn't have mattered because she thought he went to St. Mary's. And there certainly weren't any telephones at Hogwarts; he could call her from Hogsmeade, he supposed, but how was he supposed to explain that the only communication they could share was a brief telephone conversation the third Saturday of each month?
He'd spent a few brief weeks experiencing the most exhilarating things he'd ever felt, and it was all about to be over.
Everything about Gia was brilliant, and he didn't want to leave her. He was just getting to know her. It wasn't fair.
All of these thoughts and more fluttered through his brain as he drifted into his own sleep. They were all pushed aside for one single question, though. A question that frightened Harry far worse than Voldemort ever had.
Was it possible to fall in love when you were just fifteen?
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Next up, Ron and Hermione's New Year's Eve!
And also, there has been a slight controversy in some of the recent reviews of that deal with Chapter 24. I know that was posted awhile back, but someone has just recently read it and taken offense to it. That was the chapter where I dealt with the issue of Ron and Hermione discussing the existence of God. Those opinions are simply that- opinions. They were meant in no way to offend anyone or sway anyone's beliefs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, and I am extremely religiously tolerant. It was never my intent to try and push my views on other people, so if it came across that way, then I'm sorry.
With that said... I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the delay!
