Green Eyed Monster
Harry woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck. Yawning, he fought his way out of the sleeping bag and went to open the curtains. As light flooded the bedroom, the figure on the four poster bed groaned and pulled the blankets over her head.
"I swear it's unnatural for the sun to be that bright in the morning," she said.
"How are you feeling?" asked Harry, highly amused.
"Like something died in my head."
"I'm not surprised; you were pretty out of it last night."
Sally peered out from under the covers.
"What do you mean 'out of it'?"
"Do you remember anything?"
Sally thought for a moment. "Vaguely."
"Well, you got into a fight with a tree on the way home."
Sally blushed.
"Don't worry," said Harry "you weren't the only one. In fact, you were probably more sober than Dean or Seamus."
Seemingly unimpressed by this information, Sally emerged from under the covers and began take stock of her new surroundings. Harry waited for the inevitable question, and was incredibly surprised when it didn't come. He decided to bring it up himself.
"Having woken up in my bed with no clear memory of what happened last night, aren't you even a little bit worried?"
Sally chuckled affectionately. "If it was anyone else, probably, but you're so…reliable. I'm betting that you were sober all evening, carried me home and tucked me in with a mug of cocoa. Besides, the sleeping bag indicates that you probably slept on the floor last night."
Harry wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended. After all, reliable was an adjective generally associated with Alsatians and Ford Escorts – not red-blooded males.
He turned to where Sally was looking at herself in the mirror. "I look terrible," she said, peering at her reflection. She turned to Harry. "You couldn't be a darling and get me some shampoo from my cupboard in the hospital wing, could you? Ooh, and a toothbrush. And some clothes. And some mascara. And…"
Harry looked at her incredulously. "What did your last slave die of?"
"Disobedience," Sally retorted.
Harry shook his head. "Well I'm not going. You'll just have to do it yourself."
Ten minutes later, on his way to the hospital wing, Harry wondered how he'd ended up wrapped round Sally's little finger.
As the days progressed, more and more of Sally's things began to appear in Harry's room; and when she asked Hermione to turn the sleeping bag she'd been using into a bed, Harry accepted that she was probably there to stay. She began to spend most of her time in the Gryffindor common room, and had soon created her own group of friends.
As Harry tried to juggle homework, Quidditch and a social life, despite sleeping in the same room Harry and Sally were seeing less and less of each other. Harry didn't know why, but this bothered him; and he was glad of the moments that they spent together going between meals in the mornings and evenings.
On the way to breakfast one morning, Harry and Sally crossed paths with Professor Snape. Preparing himself for a cutting remark, Harry was shocked to see Sally smile and wave at the Potions master, who responded with a slight curving of the lips and a curt nod, before walking on.
Harry turned to Sally gobsmacked. "What was that all about?"
"What was what all about?"
Harry mimicked her wave.
"Oh, he gave me directions that day I was lost. He's just one of your teachers, isn't he?"
In Harry's opinion, referring to Snape as 'just a teacher' was tantamount to calling Voldemort 'that bloke with the funny eyes'.
"No he's not one of my teachers any more, thank God! He's a greasy old bat who hates me and all Gryffindors for just existing."
Sally shrugged. "Seemed perfectly nice to me."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You should be careful, you know! People aren't always who you think they are. He's a…" The word death-eater was on the tip of Harry's tongue, before he realised that revealing Snape's true status would mean telling Sally about Snape's work for the Order.
"He's a what?"
Harry sighed. "He's a nasty piece of work. Okay?"
"If you say so."
Later on, as Harry sat in the common room, he contemplated this new turn of events. Sally had been targeted by Voldemort, and a now a known Death Eater was showing an interest in her? Harry didn't care whether or not Dumbledore trusted Snape, he was worried.
It's weird, thought Harry. Snape hates anything to do with Muggles. I have to warn Sally, I don't care if I'm divulging Order secrets. Where is she anyway?
As if on cue, Sally burst in through the portrait hole a minute later, closely followed by Ron. Both looked incredibly windswept. Sally rushed over to Harry.
"Why didn't you tell me you could fly?" she exclaimed, breathlessly.
"What?" asked Harry, confused.
"I just went flying! It was brilliant!"
"Can Muggles fly?" asked Neville, who was sitting a few feet away.
"Well," said Sally, grinning "I wasn't really flying in that sense. More sitting on the back of Ron's broom clinging on to him for dear life."
Slowly, Harry began to understand what Sally was saying. He turned to Ron, livid.
"You took her flying?"
Ron looked at Harry with a neutral expression, betrayed by the fact that his ears had turned bright red.
"Just a couple of times over the Quidditch pitch," he said.
Harry took a deep breath, willing himself not to make a scene in the middle of the common room.
"She could have fallen off," he said through gritted teeth.
"It was fine, it wasn't that high," said Sally, re-entering the conversation. "Besides, I didn't fall off, and even if I had it would have been worth it. Thanks for taking me Ron."
Ron grinned. "Any time."
With that, Sally bounced out of the room in the direction of Harry's room.
Ron turned to Harry. "I really wouldn't have let anything happen to her, I promise," he said.
"Besides," said Dean, who had been listening, "what are you, her dad?"
Harry, unable to form a reply, just scowled and folded his arms.
The next day being Saturday, Harry had hoped that he would be able to get some rest. Unfortunately, after spending the morning on the Quidditch pitch, Harry had to work on his Herbology coursework in the greenhouses. Exhausted, he dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom, deciding to go and see Ron on the way. As he approached his best friend's room, he noticed that the door was ajar, and he could hear voices coming from within. Peering through the crack in the door, Harry could see Sally sitting cross legged on Ron's bed, opposite Ron. They were playing wizard chess.
"I told you I'm no good at this game," said Sally, sighing despondently.
"That's not true," Ron replied, "You're doing really well. Oh no… checkmate."
Sally raised an eyebrow. "How long did that take? Ten minutes?" She looked at her watch. "Oh, I forgot, bloody thing doesn't work here."
"It must be weird," said Ron, thoughtfully.
Sally nodded. "It is. It's not just the magic, I feel really isolated as well."
"Isolated?" said Ron "Everyone loves you!"
"Not really. They think I'm a fun person, but I wouldn't say I've really got any proper friends here. Apart from Harry of course, but he can be really…reclusive sometimes. I'd love to talk to him, but he's just not that kind of person. So it gets a bit lonely."
Harry turned away from the door, mind racing. Silently he climbed the stairs back up to his room and crawled into bed.
It was a few hours later that Sally finally returned to Harry's room.
"Hiya," she called, in the general direction of the bed.
There was no answer.
"Harry?"
The lump under the covers remained silent.
"Harry, I know you're not asleep." She sat on the edge of the bed, forcing Harry to draw his legs up to his chest. "Are you ignoring me? What's the matter?"
Harry sat up suddenly, flinging the covers away from him. "I'M FEELING A BIT RECLUSIVE AT THE MOMENT, SORRY," he shouted, his eyes blazing.
Sally bit her lip. "You heard that?"
"Yes, I heard that," said Harry bitterly.
Sally began to fiddle with the hinge of Harry's trunk, something she generally did when she was nervous or agitated.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "But it's true; sometimes I feel you're really holding back. I just can't talk to you."
Harry got out of bed. "Maybe you just don't want to talk to me. Have you considered that? Maybe I'm just getting in the way of your relationship with your new mate Ron."
Sally shook her head. "I'm not trying to come between you two. I know that he's your best friend, and I'm sorry I've been dragging him away so often…"
"You just don't get it, do you?" said Harry "It's not him. It's you."
"It's me? What do you mean it's me?"
Harry sighed loudly. "It's…LOOK WOULD YOU JUST BLOODY WELL LEAVE IT ALONE?" He grabbed one end of the trunk, and pulled it away from Sally with such force that it landed on its side, spilling out its contents.
Harry stared at the trunk for a moment, and then sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry."
Sally sat down beside him and repeated her question. "What do you mean it's me?"
Harry muttered something indeterminate.
"What?"
"I want you to need me as much as I need you."
There was silence.
"You're so important to me," Harry continued. "It hurts me to see that you can just get on fine, and make loads of friends, and become so close to Ron, because it just makes it obvious that you don't need me. I'm jealous. No, it's more than that. I'm scared. I'm scared that you'll leave, and I'll go back to being who I was before I met you."
Sally turned to Harry, her face glistening with tears.
"You idiot," she sniffed, and then hugged him fiercely.
Once she had let Harry go, Sally knelt down and began to tidy up the things that had fallen out of Harry's trunk earlier on.
"I can't believe you still have this," she said, picking up the knife that she had got Harry for his birthday.
"I completely forgot about it," said Harry. "I keep meaning to ask, how did you find out when my birthday is?"
Sally grinned. "Dudley. It took a fair amount of blackmail. Your birthday is the day before mine actually."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Sally's expression changed dramatically.
"What's wrong?" asked Harry, concerned.
Sally grimaced. "It's stuck to my hand."
"What?"
"The knife is stuck to my hand, it won't come off."
"What do you mean 'it won't come off?'" Harry reached over to grab the knife. To his horror, he felt the familiar jolt behind his navel.
"It's a Portkey, it's a BLOODY PORTKEY" he shouted, as they both began to rise into the air.
Sally's eyes widened in alarm. "What…"
Harry only had time to shake his head before the rush of sound and colour.
He felt his body slam into a stone floor, and then no more.
A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed! I've never received so many reviews for one chapter before – it's lovely to know that people are reading it!
Juno Malabre: Yes you are a wonderful beta. In fact, get rid of that French exchange so you can beta some more!
Fippets: I'm glad you like spaghetti. I like apple pie.
Emma Barrows: Thank you for all your reviews! I actually squealed when I opened my email inbox! And I will check out your fics.
R-Krulle: It seems that it was easier to work out who she's bound to than I originally thought – a lot of people have told me that they already know. Oh well, hopefully there'll be a few surprises along the way…
OH-snap: That is actually a very good point. I suppose it's because I love Sally so much that I assume everyone else will : ). It is a bit contrived though, you're right. Apologies!
BlueMoonChild89: Glad you like it! Thank you for putting me on your favourites list.
Fictionair: It's strange, I swear all the time but when it comes to writing things down I cringe using anything stronger than damn! But yeah, a lot of people overuse swear words in fics.
IamSiriusgirl: Thank you!
scholcomp25: Well, as junomalabre will tell you, I'm terrible about updating, but I am improving!
Jamie Prongs: Hope you liked this chapter as well!