Harry woke with a sharp pain stabbing at his back and neck. He had fallen asleep with his robes and shoes still on and felt disgusting. Groaning, Harry lifted his wrist close to his face, making out what the loose watch that was hanging from his wrist said.
Ugh. Still an hour before breakfast even started. Harry quietly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, cringing as they landed with a thunk. Damn boots. He thought to himself.
Harry stood and tiptoed carefully out of the dorm room, taking with him a fresh set of robes and a towel. He made his way to the Gryffindor bathroom, padding softly down the deserted hall.
Harry entered the bathroom and chose one of the ten stalls in front of him. They where like public bathroom stalls from the outside but once you stepped in the stall grew into a fully furnished, medium sized bathroom. In one corner was a shower big enough for 2 people surrounded by frosted glass. In the opposite corner was the bathtub. Not huge, but a nice size. On the same wall as the door, the toilet and a mirror resided there. The bathrooms hardly got any use any more because of the compulsory unit each student studied in their first year on hygiene spells, but Harry enjoyed nothing better than a hot shower.
Harry dumped his towel and fresh robes onto the floor and stood in front of the mirror. He rested his hands on either side of the sink and stared himself in the eye, before critically studying the rest of his face. He hardly recognized himself anymore. It was like one day he fell asleep himself and woke up in the skin of someone new, someone he vaguely remembered but couldn't quite remember. Harry rubbed a hand through his hair vigorously before turning around and stripping off. Climbing into the shower Harry turned the hot on full blast and added tinges of cold until it was just right. Harry let his head loll onto his chest letting the jets of water stream through his hair, saturating it before running over his aching joints.
Harry enjoyed showers because they enabled him to think clearly for some reason. The water relaxed his body, allowing his mind take over completely for half an hour or so. But all he could think of was sex. Images of the girls he had had over the summer ran through his mind, stopping with a screeching halt at Ginny, her freckled body trapped underneath his as he kissed and nibbled her soon red, swollen lips before slowly moving over her neck and to her small, perfect breasts.
Harry felt his hand move over his chest to his groin, as though it had a mind of his own. He begun stimulating himself the same way Ginny had. Sex was Harry's addiction. But unlike other drugs there was no rehabilitation and Harry never wanted there to be. He loved sex and everything about it. The excitement of the unknown with each new girl. He didn't disrespect them, nor he didn't think he was better then them. They were both just addicts getting what they needed out of each other.
Harry finished himself off and finished showering. His neck was still tight and cramped and he knew it would be for a few days. He could stroll down to Madam Pomfrey's for a cure, but he doubted she'd appreciate Harry wandering in because of an achy neck… perhaps Hermione could help him.
Ah no, Hermione couldn't help him because she'd have to get through Ron first. He didn't understand why he refused to believe it was an accident. Maybe it was just an excuse to hate Harry; he had been acting rather weird around him for most of the holidays.
A fleeting thought crossed Harry's mind that maybe Ron knew about him having sex with Ginny. But it wasn't possible, Ginny would have to be nuts to tell him and Harry would no longer be alive if she had.
Harry dressed and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room to put his dirty robes on the end of his bed so that the house elves would clean them for him. By the time he got there the other boys were stirring. Including Ron, who sat up as Harry entered the room.
"Listen mate, I'm sorry about what happened with Hermione last night. You know I'd never hit her on purpose. She's like a sister to me, one of my best mates. I'd never purposely hurt either you, you have to know that," Harry pleaded, standing near the end of Ron's bed.
"I know, I over reacted, but it was just a shock. Hermione doesn't hold it against you at all so you don't need to worry about that. I just love her so much, it freaked me out," Ron smiled sheepishly at Harry, who grinned back, ruffling Ron's hair.
"Aw, our Ronny's all grown up," he said, darting out the door, closely followed by one of Ron's pillows. When he got into the common room he noticed the sign up sheet for professor Trelawney's horoscopes.
"Hmm, why not?" Harry asked himself, fishing through his robes for a galleon and popping it into the tin, before signing his name on the sheet.
Harry made his way down to breakfast; it was still early so the hall was practically empty except for a few 3rd years here and there and a group of excited jittering first years.
Harry sat down and filled his plate with pieces of buttered toast, smothering them one by one with strawberry jam before munching them down in quick concession. By the time he finished Ron and Hermione had arrived hand in hand, enduring giggles and comments from the rest of the Gryffindor table.
Harry nodded at Hermione when she sat down, who smiled back, assuring Harry that they were alright. Harry began consuming his breakfast at a fast pace, demolishing his eggs before moving on to his toast. By the time he was buttering his second piece the post arrived. To Harry's surprise, a school owl glided down to him and fluttered onto the table, steadying himself between the plates before sticking out his leg.
Harry quickly untied the letter and patted the owl gratefully. Assuming it was his horoscope Harry tore the envelope open and unfolded the parchment but to his surprise, (for the second time that morning) Harry found a neatly scrawled note from his pen pal.
Dear you,
I hope you don't mind me writing so early, but I was hoping we could complete this little experiment of Dumbledore's before our school work and other such necessities begin to mount.
I won't tell you who I am because that renders this whole thing useless, so don't ask, and to be completely honest with you I don't really care who you are.
So, what to write. I enjoy writing and flying, and since I don't know you I suppose its alright if I say I enjoy muggle movies such as bang, bang your dead, a clockwork orange and rocky horror picture show. I also enjoy muggle music more then wizarding. Our world songs all seem to be about love potions and spells going wrong and personally I believe there's more to life and peoples musical taste should show that.
Any way, I believe this is adequate for a first correspondence I await your reply.
From,
Me
Harry frowned down at the letter. His pen pal seemed a very up himself dickhead, but who was he to judge? It was hard to really work out the guy's personality. His taste in movies and the line he spilled about music made him sound exactly like Harry's type of person. But the rest of it made him sound like a git.
Harry folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. He was glad he wasn't forced to write the first letter, but now he was challenged with writing the second. Oh well, he'd just have to deal with that after class.
The day past without much detail worthy of noting. Just the usual start of term speeches, just said half a dozen different ways, that this was one of their most important years education wise and that they would each have to manage their time carefully, blah blah blah, crap, crap, crap.
Harry was relieved when the final bell rang, signalling the start of dinner. Though they were now all talking words between the three once inseparable were incredibly tense. They had fought before but Harry felt this was different. He now felt like the third wheel, something he had never experienced before. He now knew how Hermione must of felt when the boys lost themselves in conversations of quidditch.
Harry ate his dinner in silence, letting the flood of conversation in the great hall wash over him. He decided to reply to his pen pal tonight, since they had taken the time and effort to write to him so quickly. He had only received transfiguration homework that night which he would be able to complete fairly easily and wasn't due for another 2 days. He excused himself after finishing his meal, leaving his school friends to chat and eat at a leisurely pace. Harry trudged the empty hallway leading up to the Gryffindor common room before speaking the password and clambering inside. The common room was empty, but Harry knew it would very quickly fill with good little boys and girls all wanting to finish their homework, so he decided to take a bottle of ink, a quill and a piece of parchment up to his common room to write the letter in peace.
Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, staring down at the blank parchment. Sucking the end of the quill into his mouth he thought about how to start the letter before dipping the nib of the quill into the bottle of ink resting on his bedside table and beginning to write.
Dear you,
Well I don't really care who you are either so I suppose our identities shall remain secret. You seem to have an excellent taste in movies; Stanley Kubrick is one of my favourite directors, along with Quentin Tarantino. I also enjoy writing. Lyrics more then anything but to be honest I'm not very good, bad teenage poetry.
So now we get to the awkward part. Do I write about myself or do I ask you questions? Hm, I'll ask you some questions since I'm not really the most entertaining and exciting person ever.
Do you have a sweetheart at Hogwarts? What muggle music are you into? Like your favourite bands? What do you want to do when you leave school? Do you have siblings?
Well that's all the cliché questions I can think off at the moment. Feel free to ask me any in your response. Must be off now, so I leave you with a familiar quote to make you feel all fuzzy inside.
Bliss, bliss and heaven... it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh...Oh; it was wonder of wonders... And then, a bird of like rarest spun heaven metal, or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now
From,
Me
Harry finished the letter and placed the quill next to the inkbottle on his bedside table. He looked at his watch; he still had an hour until curfew so he decided to make his way up to the owlery so he could post his letter that night.
