FFOmega
Part I: Bitter-Sweet Dreams

Chapter 3

Harry's aunt sat there, staring at him as he recounted event after event. Every event, since the day Hagrid came and took him away. Huge Snakes, Swords, Prophecies, Hippogriffs, Murderers, Murders, and in the end, Death. And when it was all over, Fate.

It had begun hours before. They had sat there, him speaking, her listening. It had begun as the sun had begun to rise. And now, the heat was burning through the window, so much so Petunia had had to move from the window to a seat on Harry's bed. He hadn't actually known that anything had transpired as such, as his head had been down as he watched the ground, burning the positioning of the knots and dark streaks in the wood into his memory as he rattled of information. No words such as "I felt" or anything describing emotions came from his mouth. It was fact. But Petunia knew. And she felt, felt for him. And for all the heartless bitch she acted, that's what it was, an act. And act few knew she was doing.

Which had started oh so long ago in a Psychiatric Hospital few knew Petunia Dursley, alternately Petunia Liam had stayed in.

Yes, Liam, not Evans, Never Evans

But that in itself was a story few knew, and was not necessary for thought at the moment. The true story was, her emotions. She had long recognized them as well as others, and could almost feel them and had an adept understanding for them. However, she became all too wrapped up in them. So in this hospital, she had been told to get them in check. The only way they told her possible. Ignoring them.

And if necessary, doing the opposite

And thus born was Petunia Dursley. And for years and years, the woman known as Petunia Dursley lived as the opposition to who she truly was. And all actions the did, opposites of what she felt to do. For otherwise, fear of her true self being returned to the forefront of her conscious mind held her paralyzed in someone she was not.

Truth was a word she did not know.

Because if she did, there would be no Petunia Dursley.

In all truth, she hated Vernon Dursley. Deeply. A deep-seated loathing for that tub of fat and disgust had been held in the back of her mind since the day she met him.

But thus, he was everything the man Petunia wanted wasn't. And as she looked at Harry as he sat there, his eyes hidden by thick lashes and a dark, downcast expression, he essentially looked like that man. Yes, Petunia had, in fact, had a major crush on none other than the late raven-haired Gryffin himself,

James Potter

She stretched her hand out to touch him, almost feeling lost in a void of time and space, really thinking it was him, trapped exactly as he had been the first time she saw him, head down as he tormented himself over her stupid sister and the words she had said to him. Her hand landed on his shoulder, expecting to see a pair of hazel, almost golden yellow eyes turn to her. And as he looked up at her, his emerald eyes hit her like a sack of bricks dropped from a very tall building onto her. And he was not James Potter. He was Harry Potter.

Half of him was Lily

She had locked that half, as well as the other half, the half of the man she claimed she loved, in a cabinet too small to be humane for most of the rats that inhabited the space often, for years on end.

And she was slammed into existence once more. She was awakened from her self-imposed exile in the depths of her own mind as she stared at those eyes. Those eyes that looked to her with a pleading, but also a fear.

"I…I' I'm sorry Aunt Petunia. I…I didn't mean to…, to, to go on like that. To break down. I should be telling you about Dudley now…I am sorry for veering off." He opened his mouth to speak again when she held up her hand to silence him.

"Harry. Harry…don't. Please…don't. I'm begging you, don't apologize. I should be the one doing that. You haven't done anything wrong, nothing at all."

And she smiled a weak smile towards him as her eyes welled up with tears, tears that had been held back for years, and, with an emerald burst of realization, the dam had just broken. No, not broken, become non-existent.

And miles below earth's surface, Satan pulled on a heavy winter coat out of his closet as Petunia Dursley, The World's Most Normal Heartless Bitch, wrapped up Harry Potter, her nephew, in a hug that quite possibly could have broken his ribs and dented his spinal column, whispering in his ear, "I am so very sorry."

And her tears spilled over, as his mind did its best to comprehend the situation. The only thought that was running in his head was,

What in the hell…

Miles down, Lucifer sat on his throne, cool wind displaying his breath as he breathed out, watching the flames systematically become icicles. "Nope kid, not even I know what'd happening up there. Sorry, can't help you. All I can tell you is, Hell has indeed frozen over."

And suddenly there was a sharp sound, similar to a knife on an ice cube, and there, skating in front of the Lord of Hell, was a group of Penguins on Ice Skates.

"Dammit, what the hell! I mean, there's ironic, playful, but this is just wrong!"

And as she held him, Harry felt something in his mind, an epiphany. No, a realization. She wasn't holding him, he was holding her. And it wasn't for him that she was hugging him, it was for her. But even more importantly,

This person wasn't his aunt,

And if she was…

The person he had grown to hate his whole life…

"Karma, keep playing with me, and I swear I'll choke the life out of you the next time I see you."

And in some indefinable place, everywhere but nowhere, said person was sitting back watching the events on a TV from a recliner, smiling to herself despite it all. "Don't blame me kid, some things even I don't see coming. This…this blindsided the hell out of me."

So it was with complete confusion that, less than 24 hours later, Harry was staring out of the car window as it moved down the expressway. This was the first time he could remember that his aunt was driving. He hadn't realized that she could, in fact, do so, as he had never seen her actually do it. And as he thought of her, he looked to her and saw something very weird.

She had been smiling a lot more as of recently. And it was unnerving him. The smile was less happy and more…more, like she had realized something after a long time that should have made her feel a lot better.

And as he turned back to the window, once more trying to run the information he had through his mind, trying to figure out what was going on around him, he felt something. It was like someone had taken a small needle and run it through where his heart was very quickly. He blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear whatever was running through his head at that time, and then paid more attention to where, exactly, he was, as the car pulled into a parking slot and stopped.

And as he realized where he was, his jaw fell in shock.

"Uh…Aunt Petunia…why exactly are we here?" He asked as she strode into The Leaky Cauldron as if she owned the place and had been inside it every day of her life for the past few decades.

She did not make a sound, simply leading him to the back of the alleyway, opening her purse and producing a wand Harry recognized as his own, and tapped the correct brick, and the wall opened up for their entry.

His Aunt had a look on her face that he recognized. It was one that stated that she was on a mission, therefore she should be left as she was. he followed behind her, his footsteps maintaining an ever 1:2 ratio with her short strides, broadcasting to everyone within the vicinity that she was to be allowed a clear space in front of her.

Harry only realized where they were, in fact, going upon their entry into the large white building. Gringott's. Harry looked to the goblins as they approached them, fearing the discovery of his large personal fund and its soon-to-come depletion upon the Dursleys using it. However, as they got to the goblin and attempted to address Harry, Petunia spoke up.

"Look. Me, not him. Understand?" She fished out a coin purse from her purse and tossed a shimmering silver key onto the desk. The goblin observed it before sucking in a deep breath.

"We believed this account had been forgotten. It has sat idle for years upon years, decades even."

"So I expect it had maintained the interest rate we agreed upon?" Petunia voice, not as a question, but as a command. And for the first time, Harry saw a frightened goblin. It simply nodded to her statement and then called one of the goblins over to escort Harry and his Aunt to one of the cars.

And as they walked, Petunia glanced to Harry out of the side of her eyes, smiled slightly to herself, and reached up to ruffle his hair out of place completely, more so than usual.

I can at least make things right now…I hope.

And during the ride down, deep into the depths of the earth, Harry watched as vault upon vault was passed. finally the car screeched to a halt so deep down that Harry had begun to sweat so profusely that his hair was not only matted to his head, but took on a styled rain-soaked look when he shook his head upon watching his Aunt walk to the vault and have it opened, revealing a humongous plethora of gold piles, along with sheets of paper and stacks of boxes.

"I see it has gotten its due amount of interest. Good. I shall be needing a way of transporting a good three-quarters of its mass within the next few hours. I have some dues to pay, and thus, I feel the need to have a suitable way of transporting this money. Do it. Expeditiously."

Harry eyed his aunt as if he had never seen her before. And in truth, he hadn't. The woman before him was not someone he had seen before. She was like a different person. But the importance of this change in character had yet to be made into more of an oddity.

He sat thinking about this when his aunt called him. It took him a moment, but he looked up to see her calling him into the vault. He stood and walked in, looking around at the money, which seemed to have been categorized, organized and the amount filed in an almost anally neat manner before piles of it just began to pile on the floor. He did pass several stacks of papers, bond and stock certificates for many American and Japanese companies, a few in things like a company called Microsoft, and some for less known ones like some mushroom company in Tokyo, Japan. However, as he was nearing his aunt, she was looking at one particular one. One that looked out of place among stock certificates and papers stating the monetary value in most national and even some international currencies, of the vault's holdings.

"Yes Aunt Petunia…?" Harry muttered, breaking her out of her reverie as she stared at the piece of paper silently and sadly, near tears almost. She didn't look at him, almost as if she couldn't, but simply handed him the paper before recomposing herself and walking over to the goblin to discuss something.

And in Harry's hand, he held his birth certificate.

And as he looked at it, not focusing on too much, he looked as he saw that his writing was oddly more similar to his mother's than his father's, his father's having a powerful, heavy-handed style, while his mother's more understated and softer on the paper.

But as he looked from their signatures, he saw something that unnerved him.

"My first name is…Heron! What the…"

His Aunt turned at this and looked at him. She smiled sweetly, looking at him as if he should have known this. "Why yes Harry dear, it is."

"But…But I…I always thought it was Harold…"

"As in something like 'Harold of the world's salvation' or something like that? Your mother was one of the great haters of irony in life, and she would have been damned when Dumbledore told her that her baby would grow up great, to have some cliché name for her child to have to bear. And besides, Jimmy would have had a fit if his kid was cursed with some stuffy name. He was stuck with James, he wouldn't put that on you.

"So, given both their love for flying, and the fact that it was a heron that James used to confess his love for your mother during the summer after their 7th year, you got a very special name."

Harry was slack-jawed and dumbfounded. He stared forward at nothing as he stood there, absorbing the mass amount of information he just got in little hints from his aunt.

And had she just called his father Jimmy?

He sighed and looked around some more, finding bits and pieces of filing, little more important, but as he was about to open another set of files, he was called by his aunt. He walked over and they got in the cart, thankful that the vault had had years to cool from the vacuumed air, this cooling his body off. However, on the ride up, Harry was forced to let his questions simmer until the noisy, quick ride was finished.

Upon leaving the bank, his aunt holding some sort of velvety purple bag of sorts, Harry turned to her. "What was that vault all about?" He asked as the only semblance of a complete sentence he could form from his own fried-from-shock brain.

"That vault…well, that vault was what your mother left to me. She left that mass of money, money she intended for me to use to…do something…and all the personal things she wanted kept forever."

"What…something, are you talking about." Harry asked, ignoring her clear want to refrain from answering this.

She sighed. "She left me that money…well, part of it was to take care of Dudley, myself, and you should you ever need to come to me for anything."

"And the rest…" Harry asked as she paused.

"The rest, that was left as a deal. I would open the vault and access the money if I agreed to…leave Vernon."

If Harry had been thunderstruck before, he didn't know what else he was after that statement. He looked at her for some time, before she smiled at him, and walked him toward store after store, window-shopping like a pro, before finally dragging him into one store.

Looking around, his senses were assaulted by color upon color, and a vast number of witches circulating the room, which had lines of counters with glass fronts and covers around the room, leaving walkway space behind the counters, and floor space for patrons of the store to mill around in.

She lead him over to one of the counters, and looked through, Harry seeing that this was some sort of jewels and rare finds store. Petunia walked over to one of the bubbly sales girls and asked for the manager. The girl nodded and disappeared into a back room before an older woman came out. Upon coming out, she gasped slightly and then disappeared back the way she came. Upon re-entering once more, she carried a long thin box, which reminded Harry of a safety-deposit box. She placed it on the counter wordlessly, nodded to the both before turning and walking back to the back of the store.

Petunia opened the box and pulled out two items before handing them to Harry. They were two rings, and it only took seconds for Harry to figure out what he was holding.

His parents wedding rings.

Petunia answered his unasked question. "I had them put here to be restored upon their return from the reports on their bodies."

Harry looked. The ring he knew to be his father's was not outstanding in too many ways. It was a golden ring, with some kind of inscription all around it in a language Harry did not know, said inscription inset in a red color. Harry looked to it and found that it oddly fit his middle finger snugly, and fit his ring finger on both hands comfortably. He placed it on his right ring finger, finding it comfortable, and feeling a feeling of warmth wash over him.

And then his gaze fell on his mother's ring. It was an amazing shimmering silver band, that seemed to shine too brightly to really be silver. The main stone was a large shining green gem of some sort, he assumed it was an emerald. It was absurdly clear, setting little more than a slight green tint on the world when he squinted and looked through it.

Flanking it on either side were diamonds, one on each side of the emerald that was about half the green gem's size. The ring was beautiful, and running along the bottom was an inscription similar to the one on his father's ring, only less as to make room for the stones set into the top. Harry smiled softly and sadly as he looked upon them. He began to place it down, moving to take his father's ring off when his aunt placed her hand on his shoulder.

She had called one of the sales-girls over and asked for a chain. It was a shimmering silver chain, of a good length, and she handed it to Harry. He held it looking confused for a moment, so she took it back, not at all impatiently, but more in understanding, and threaded the chain through the ring hole in his mother's ring before re-attaching the clasp and slipping the necklace over Harry's head. She ruffled his hair again before going and talking to one of the girls, Harry standing there staring at the rings once more. Soon she took his arm and led him out of the store.

She looked at him before scoffing at his general look. "Those clothes…they aren't going to work. Much too big." She looked at him before pulling the shirt on one side on the side of his body around and completely back around his body. "Yes, much much too big. Dudley is a fat little piggy isn't he…"

Harry looked at her as they headed down the street, and eventually out of Diagon Alley. They got into the car and drove deep into the heart of London's shopping scene. Harry was awed at the fashionable women and men walking the streets in their clothing that looked as if they had hopped down from a runway and taken to, instead, prancing the streets.

Eventually they pulled to a stop and got out, Harry looking around in wonderment as they heading into a boutique of some kind. Upon entry, he heard clicking of tongues as oddly effeminate men and women wearing short hairstyles observed him. He was mobbed and soon found himself being measured, poked, prodded, pinched, some in places he wasn't too sure he wanted to be pinched, poked or prodded, especially when he couldn't figure out who was doing it. Within moments he lost his shirt to a fairly cute girl with short, styled brown hair and thin eyebrows, who winked at him as she yanked the shirt over his head. She then pushed him through the mob and through a back door.

As he entered he stood in the room all alone for a few moments. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and a girl about his age sauntered through, looking over papers on a clipboard.

She had long hair, an oddity in the shop it seemed, outside of the men with the ponytails, and her lithe form was strutting toward him, still not looking at him.

She was making marks before walking behind him. She looked at him, observing his back and messing with his hair, checking its texture and length, pulling it down and seeing its length once it lost the volume it seemed to get in its mess. She walked around him, pulling his pants back to show his legs' true size and shape, before making it to face him.

And as she looked him in the eyes, she gasped. Harry looked at her in confusion, as she seemed to know him from somewhere. And as he looked at her, the realization wiped over him all too slowly.

Her name was Blaise Zabini. The Slytherin "Queen" as they called her. He remembered her from a brief incident involving a hall, not watching where one was going, spilled books, and a scowl from "Her Majesty of Snakes."

And him knowing her name could also have been thanks to the nametag she wore. One doesn't meet many Blaises in one's life.

She looked at him with her shimmering mahogany, almost red eyes, as her light brown hair framed her face with not a lock out of place. She seemed to want to hide the light sprinkle of pale freckles across her nose, but it wasn't working too well, and she had on a pair of reading glasses sitting perched on her nose ever-so-precariously. She looked oddly…cute for someone born to be his enemy, but he figured that there was something different about her from school.

He replayed the incident in the hallway in his mind, to remember her not only not wearing glasses, but lacking any facial "imperfections" such as freckles or anything like that, her face pure and smooth as porcelain. He grumbled at this change, before looking into her eyes once more to find her still observing him. "Well Potter, seems you are in need of some new clothes and a new look. Lord knows you need it."

"Seems so. What's a pureblood like you doing working here, in the muggle world?"

She looked uneasy. "Between me and you, I'm not exactly a pureblood. My mum is half, my dad was a pureblood. So officially I am 3/4s, but my family still has a love for the muggles. That, along with the fact that I wanted a place to go to try on and buy clothes, the newest fashions, Mum figured this would be a great place for me to work at." She turned her back to him and pushed a button on the far wall, which flipped a panel over with a group of numbered buttons on it. She put in some numbers before pushing another button, and the wall opened up to show a long double-decked set of clothing racks. They moved down, setting in different places with a large array of clothing, which Harry figured were all in his size. "So Mister…Harold Potter, savior of us poor, weaker wizards, let's get you started trying some of this on."

Harry eyed her before walking up to the side of her, looking as she fished through the rack, the top with tops and the bottom with bottoms…oddly fittingly enough. "Actually, My name isn't Harold. Its Heron."

Blaise stood back, holding a pair of khaki shorts and a black top, and looked at him oddly. "Heron. Like…the bird?"

"Yeah, I just found out today."

She shrugged with a roll of her eyes before handing him the clothes. "Change. Now." Harry eyed her oddly in confusion. "Come on, I don't have all day." He again looked uncertain. "Look, its nothing I haven't seen before. Just hurry up, I don't have all freaking day, okay. Get it? Got it? Good." and with that and a sharp tug on his baggy pants, they became loose from his hips, slipping down lower on his thighs, as Blaise took the point of pulling the tight black shirt on over his head.

Soon she had him dressed in what she had picked out. She approved of this and then set him to work on a mass of other outfits, liking some and putting them in a group of "keepers" and then tossing some back on the rack, not liking them. Soon they had all the clothes they needed. That only left one thing.

She looked to his discarded sneakers, which oddly had the appearance of talking. She groaned before pulling out a metal contraption and placing his foot in it. She slid a metal piece down to the tip of his foot and looked at the numbers on the side. Her eyebrows raised, and she looked up at him, and then back down at the numbers.

"This is odd…Completely unexpected."

Harry looked at her in confusion as she made note of this on the clipboard. "What is?"

"Well, your shoe size isn't proportional to your height. Like…badly off."

"How?"

"Well, you are about a size 11 or so, and u aren't too much over 1.8 meters tall. And that is very unusual."

Harry eyed her as her eyes settled somewhere that made him oddly uncomfortable, as it was somewhere about midway on his body that she was eye level with when kneeling like she was. He heard her mutter something about "you know what they say about big feet" before she cleared her throat, stood and walked over to the rack again. She was flushed in the face and was adjusting the collar on her white shirt and fiddling with her glasses before she pulled out some more clothing and tossed them to him, not looking at him.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion he had, in some way, caused this. So, despite her Slytherin-ness, he walked over to her to make sure she was okay. He placed a hand on her waist as she was kneeling down, or more he tried to. Because at that moment she shot up, her head banging into the bottom of his chin. His head reeled back, and she spun to see what had happened, successfully jabbing the shoebox she had retrieved into his stomach, causing him to begin to stumble back. She reached out a hand to catch him, only to have him grab her wrist as he stumbled back, slipping on the metal foot-measurer she had left on the ground, thus pulling her into the fall with him.

He fell, and proceeded to break her fall, and she landed on him. And they laid like that, a mass of hair, limbs, and locked eyes.

Both made to move at the same moment, only to stop simultaneously. They reached a stalemate as neither attempted to move after that. And they laid that way. And then Blaise spoke. "You know, you aren't as bad as those Junior Dark Lord's Tea-baggers In-Training have you pinned to be. You just might work out, flyboy."

She sat up, still sitting on him, successfully straddling him. She looked down at him before winking seductively and laying back down to be pressed back against him. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss on the tip of his nose before leaning up over him, effectively pressing her…chest…against Harry's face as she reached for the shoes, which had fallen across the floor in the commotion.

She then sat back and turned, still straddling him, only with her back to him now, and proceeded to place the shoes on his feet. And as she did this, Harry was able to reflect on two things.

One, This was shaping up to be a weird day, the weirdest and most insanely abnormal of his life,

…And…

Two, There was a Slytherin straddling him like a horse, dressing him. A Slytherin with a nice ass. A very nice ass. And what were those two thin pieces of material showing as her pants slipped lower as she leaned down?

Harry groaned in his frustration as Blaise took to moving her body slightly as a song came on over the PA system that Harry just realized was on, or more, just realized was playing a fairly decent song that wasn't crappy elevator music.

Finally Blaise stood before turning and putting her hand out to help pull him up. Having a bit of fun, instead of trying to pull himself up, he pulled her back down all over again. He got up before her after that, and leaned his hand down to help her. She made to repeat the action, but he yanked her up to her feet, gave her a solid slap to the ass and turned and walked over to the rack of clothing to have a look of his own.

"You know Potter, that was very Slytherin of you."

"The hat wanted me in Slytherin." He voiced matter-of-factly. Blaise was stunned. In a different world were Potter was a Slytherin, she could have seen herself dating him. No, in that world she would have dated him, period. No ifs ands or buts about it. And if Parkinson got in the way, Malfoy's little whore would be having something else jammed up her ass. Namely, Blaise's shoe.

Who was she kidding. She would date him as a Gryffindor. As a Ravenclaw. Hell, she'd date him as a Hufflepuff.

No, that was taking it much too far. She would never date a Hufflepuff. Ever. Even if it was Harry Potter.

She looked at him as she slid her hand across her ass where he had hit her. She growled deep in her throat. No one out-teased the Queen of Slytherin. No one.

She slid her hand along his spine, leaning down next to him. Her hand traveled from his lower back up to his shoulders, over his shoulders, and across his neck, dragging her nails ever so slightly.

Harry showed no signs of acknowledging this, and this pissed Blaise off. She finally just growled and pushed him on the floor. He landed on his back and she stood on either side of him, her heels on each side of his waist. She then lowered her body, still on her feet but effectively sitting on his lap.

"Look," she pulled the pen off the clipboard and grabbed his hand. She jotted down a set of numbers. "Call. Soon. Like, call at 5 today. Got it? Perfect." And with a flourish she signed her name under the number. She then stood, an oddly incredible feat considering she had just did all of that while her heels were still firmly on either side of his body, the spike heels almost a threat of the pain to come should he not call. He nodded dumbly before getting himself up. She turned, winked, and then disappeared out of the door, motioning for him to follow. He did so, and was soon back in the main room, only then noticing the chairs and the hair-treatment facilities.

Blaise led him to a chair, where he was thrown down and many people went to work on him. He looked for his aunt to find that she had her head under a drier and was wearing a bathrobe as someone did her nails and feet. She had her eyes closed, and Harry simply smiled as he let his mind close down as the chair went back and his head went into a black sink as all-too-warm water, perfectly tempered to put him in a deep calm, soaked his hair.

"Wotcher there Harry, looking good." Tonks' voice sounded over him. Harry opened his eyes to see Tonks standing over him, looking down. Her hair was long and a very light brown color, falling to about her mid back. It was tied back and she had bright blue eyes. Her full lips were curled into a smile as she observed his form, as his hair was being washed by one of the short-haired women with odd almost black eyes with flecks of green and gray in them somehow.

They washed Harry's hair before wrapping a towel around his shoulders and sitting him up. They dried it fairly well before grabbing a pair of scissors and beginning to snip away at his hair. Not as a cut, but enough to eliminate the messy-look, which was mostly caused by a build-up of thick hair and too much volume in certain places, which was adjusted in a way he did not understand.

Once some of it was changed and utterly harassed by the women in the right places, his hair would lay flat and stay able to be styled. Harry would have objected to this, being one of the few things left that reminded him of his father, but as he felt the golden band on his right ring finger, he sighed and allowed it to be done.

After an hour or so of the annoying sound of scissors snipping away, he opened his eyes as they spun him around to the mirror to look at himself.

He had been reborn as a new person.

His hair laid around his face, fairly long, the back hanging to his just past his neck, the top falling neatly and orderly, and effectively concealing his scar. All in all, as he stood there in his new clothes and with his new hairstyle, he liked it.

Blaise came over behind him as he stood before the full-length mirror and slipped her arm around him. "Looking good. I'd say you might just give Malfoy a run for his money in the hot-but-evil category this year, but I always thought the little scrotum-tonguing ferret was ugly, so I say you have him thoroughly trounced." And she smirked as she looked at him through the mirror. "Remember to call me later, babe." And with that, she disappeared back through the door she had taken him into.

Tonks looked at Harry. "So, getting admirers are you Harry?" she asked, looking at him with a slight smile on her face. Harry blushed slightly, moving his hair off his shoulder, as its ability to blow in the wind did not go unnoticed to him, and needless to say, it was annoying the hell out of him.

Tonks looked at him, brushing some hair from his face as she looked up at him slightly. "Just remember, I had you first. I got first dibs on you when you decide that the fairer sex is ready for the debut of Harry Potter the Playboy." She smiled at him after saying this before brushing one last stand of hair from the side of his face, placing it ever-so-delicately behind his ear before smiling and walking off down the street for the shift change.

Harry had been sure to thank his Aunt on the ride home until she stopped him. Which wasn't too soon after. She had come out looking so much more like his mother that is shocked him. The evil disposition she had been carrying had seemed to be attacking her body and her bone structure, and, once gone, everything had righted itself. Her face became less horse-like and softer with its curves and angles. Her cheekbones stood out ever so subtly, and with the curls in her light chestnut hair, which, for once looked healthy and not so brittle, her face was framed nicely. With some more food in her system, she would fill out nicely, and Harry finally could see how her and his mother were related.

She had taken him back to the house, where they had unpacked all of his things, and asked Tonks to magically enlarge the room. Even at his not overly-above normal height, he was still much taller than Dudley, and Petunia wanted to afford him room to place household amenities that would make his almost constant stay in the room comfortable. So with Petunia planning, Tonks working her magic, literally and figuratively, and Harry forced to sit on the porch until they were finished, he wouldn't get to see his room for some time.

After she finished, Tonks had come out and they had had that odd experience before she left. So, turning after shaking it off as her messing with him, Harry headed into the room that had been the smallest in Number 4 Privet Drive.

Petunia was working some things out in her room before Vernon got home, and Dudley was out somewhere else, so Harry was fairly alone. He walked up to his room and opened the door to be completely floored by what he saw.

The room was magically expanded to be much bigger than it was before. About 5 times bigger. The room had sections, it was truly a flat in of itself. There was a living-room area, where Harry had his own Television, along with a radio and a Wizarding Wireless. There was a couch along with a coffee table. On the other side there was a large bed that looked much like the Gryffindor bed he slept in. His trunk was on that side as well, and there was a wardrobe that held all of his new clothing and shoes. On the dresser that held his personal items was his wand, some polish, and the hair products the boutique had given him.

Harry settled down on the bed, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. He was infinitely grateful that the unicorn's blood had served to start curing his ailments, starting with his eyesight, as he had the urge to stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep without the worry of waking up to shards of glass in his bed.

Soon however, he sat up on the bed, inwardly reminding himself to wake up at about 4:30, and then began the mind-clearing ritual to bring about the meditative state that would put him on contact with Karma.

The time spent with the woman who was much like a surrogate mother went well, Harry learning new mental techniques, even a way to bypass the mental block he himself had put up against Occulmency due to his hate for everyone who tried to teach it to him.

Eventually his time ended and he awoke, thankful that Karma had taught him the ability to set him mind to awaken from meditation at a given time, else he would probably lose track of time and spend much too much time in wherever they were with her.

Harry stood from his bed, walking around his trunk to head out of the room toward the phone when there was a knock on the door. He went to open it, glancing at the clock in the room as he did to find it was 4:31. He smiled at his mind's timekeeping before opening the door.

And before him stood Tonks. The Tonks Harry had seen earlier that day. She smiled at him sweetly, brushing the hair back behind her before looking slightly nervous. "Harry…I think we need to talk. Actually, I know we do. Are you doing anything right now?" She caught Harry glancing to his hand and the number that was written there, and she smiled before pulling out her wand. She pointed to the table, transfiguring the wizarding radio into a phone. The cord spiraled simply into the floor, and Harry looked at her in confusion.

"You can call her, I'll step out, just let me know when you are done." She smiled again and then stood and walked out of the room wordlessly. Harry looked at the door for a few moments in confusion before picking up the phone and dialing the number on his hand.

The phone rang a few times before someone picked up. It was Blaise. And she sounded annoyed. "You know Potter, calling early makes you sound desperate. I don't even know if I want to talk to you now."

Harry listened to the silence for less than a second before he got indignant. "Look Zabini, I'm not in the mood. I have someone here who needs to talk to me, and she showed up and needed to talk. I remembered that you told me to call you, so I wanted to be a good person and do so. If you don't want to talk, fine." And Harry moved to slam the phone down. He was not in the mood for bossy Slytherin females at the time. Tonks had something she had wanted to talk to him about, and she did not look like her normal carefree self.

He heard Blaise shouting for him to stop, so he picked the phone up and put it to his ear. "What!" He shouted, into the receiver.

"Once more Heron, you surprise me. Your Slytherin side is not one to be messed with. And between us…its turning me on." Her voice was low and seductive, and Harry could feel himself getting hot around his collar. "If you have something to do, that's fine. Just make sure you keep my number, and you can call me any day during the week after 4 and anytime on the weekends. You never know, we could maybe get together over the summer. But at the very least, we could talk during school. Okay?"

""Yeah…sure."

"Bye Harry, dear!" Where Blaise's last words before she hung up.

Harry set the receiver down and stared at it for some time. She had gone from calling him Potter to Heron to "Harry, dear". It was very…awkward to him. But he shrugged and went and let Tonks in. She was standing in the hallway twiddling her thumbs.

She came in and closed the door, standing with her back against the door, looking at him. She took and deep breath before speaking softly and slowly. "Harry…this is going to be weird. Very weird. But I need you to trust me. And…let me do this."

Harry looked at her in confusion as she walked toward him, stopping so she was standing in front of the coffee table. She set down a package that she pulled from a bag she had been holding that he hadn't noticed. She suddenly grabbed him, slipping her hand behind his neck and pulled him to her, laying a kiss on his lips.

It was far from Cho's kiss, and it had an affect on him that caused him to lose control of all of his limbs. His arms snaked around her body, and his lips deepened the kiss. It was like his mind had shut down and opened up all at the same time. One of his hands slid up along her back, his fingers dragging along her spine, while the other dipped down to the curve that was the small of her back and stayed there.

The kiss lasted for some time, and as it broke, Harry's eyes opened slowly to find Tonks still with her eyes closed, lips still puckered ever so sweetly and tasty looking.

He didn't know what came over him, as he leaned down to take her lips in another kiss, and she deepened it so much that Harry fell back over the coffee table only to land on the couch, her still on top of him.

Their kiss deepened more and more until it was near a hunger to devour the life within the partner, kissing as if the secrets to the universe where buried in the other person, and if their tongues dug deep enough and their souls entwined tightly enough, they would find their answers.

And as they rolled, Harry rolled right off the side of the couch, landing on the floor. Tonks still on top of him, she looked him in the eyes. And she kept staring at him before standing up. She helped pull him up, Harry was tempted to deploy what he would refer to as the "Potter Pull" as he had done to Blaise before, but the look on Tonks' face told him that it was best he not. They stood and Tonks stared at him some more.

She leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to Harry's once more, still holding his hand in her's. There was a feeling in that kiss that had lead Harry to believe that there was something in her, something on her mind that was driving her insane, and he had just calmed it completely. And behind that, there was a fire raging so deeply in her that it was driving him insane simply because he was that close to her.

"Harry…thank you…thank you for trusting me…but, I…I have to go…before I can't." And with that she turned from him and walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, never looking back.

Harry dropped himself back onto the couch, letting his head fall back and sighed loudly. The day had been insane, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn't figure it all out.

He finally sat up and lifted the package Tonks had left. Inside there was a shimmering Silver watch. It had a red inset face, and the numbers shined even in the low light. He slipped it onto his left wrist before looking to the note under it. It was in a handwriting Harry recognized for no reason at all.

Harry,

If you have this, then I went through with it. A disastrous event it may or may not have been, I have been tearing myself up over it for the longest time now. But this isn't about that. You see, I won't make it seem like there is no point for this watch. The watch, in essence, is a tracker, but so much more than that.

It lets me know where you are. No, not the Order, Me. And I will be damned if anyone, even Dumbledore tries to make me use it when we don't want it used. Should you ever be in trouble, there is a button on the side that will immediately portkey you to my flat. From there, I can only assure you that I will do anything that I can to keep watch over you and your safety. No, not keep watch…Protect you. You need that. Not a watcher, not an overbearing adult, a person who cares about your safety…And I will try and be that.

The watch can also act as a Position Placer, a clock-like piece that locates family and friends. Hands can be added should they be needed, but at the moment there is just Hermione, Ron and I on there. I do hope you stay safe, and the instructional guide for the watch is within the box, along with a few other things I felt I needed to include for you.

Remember Harry…

And here the words were scratched out furiously. Harry simply set the letter down in the box absurdly delicately before laying back on the couch as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Boy the shit has really hit the fan today. Karma, keep messing with me, and I swear you die, and the world can too. Because if either of these beautiful women are doing more than playing with my head, I might just sit this war out. You know what they say, Make Love, not War."

And with those words and a goofy smile plastered across his face, Harry Potter fell asleep.