Chapter 9

Harry's POV

Year one, part 2

Yes, I am an idiot. I don't know what possessed me to go out to the bars with Draco, or Drake as he was now known. Yes, I was depressed and yes, I probably would have just sat in my room with a bottle of fire whiskey anyway. But, going out into London, and getting sloshed, and not remembering half the night was a dangerous thing. Made even more so by the fact that I'm pretty sure I saw Ginny.

Ginny.

I can't be completely sure, because I was sloshed and because it was just a glimpse of red hair. But, I felt it. I felt a tug at my heart. I knew now, what I'd been hiding from myself for the past year. I still loved her. But it wouldn't change anything.

I tumbled off my bed and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was real close to noon. Groaning, I shuffled into the kitchen. Drake was seated at the table, his head in his hands. "What the bloody hell happened last night?" he whimpered.

I walked over to the counter, poured two cups of coffee and sat down across from him.

"I was hoping you had the answer to that question," I said, pushing one cup over to him.

He sat up and his eyes went to my bare chest. His mouth dropped and then he started laughing.

"What?!?!" I yelled at him.

"Harry, you have to look at yourself! I remember now!" He was having a hard time controlling his chuckles.

I glared at him, but glanced down at my chest.

"You DO have a dragon tattooed on your chest!" Drake screamed, laughing harder.

I groaned, the slight twinge I had been feeling in my chest wasn't purely emotional. I looked down at my new art. It was definitely a dragon; red with a horned tail. A sudden memory flooded my mind. I remembered leaving the bar and walking into tattoo parlor. The rest of the evening was fuzzy, like I was watching it through a bottle.

"Did you draw it for them? Or did I?" I asked, not looking at Drake. The tattoo looked good, and now I understood why everyone was so curious about it years ago, it was pretty awesome.

"Of course I drew it. You were completely inebriated!" Drake replied indignantly.

"You were too!" I moaned back, pressing my head to my head. This conversation was causing my head to ache.

"Yes, but you can't even draw sober." He shot back, rising from his seat with his cup of coffee. "I'm going to go shower and get ready for work." He turned and walked towards his bedroom.

Drake and I were lucky. We were both able to find simple jobs that we enjoyed. When Drake came home with the news of his new job, I was surprised. He had managed to get a job drawing cartoons for an uppity newspaper not three blocks from our flat. He was able to use his aristocratic upbringing to make fun of others on a daily basis, and he was good at it. After one year, he had other newspapers asking to use his work. We agreed to keep a low profile, and so they were turned down, and consequently made fun of in the next days newspaper. Somehow, Drake had his hours arranged so that he worked afternoons and early evenings, giving him time to party and then sleep it off.

I was not quite as lucky as Drake had been in the beginning. It took a few odd jobs before I settled at the little bookshop around the corner from our flat. The owner was a short, plump, balding man who reminded me of Uncle Vernon in appearance. But, he was the jolliest person I'd ever met. He had never married and had no children, but was amazing with people. I spent most of my time stocking shelves while he talked with customers.

"Harry!" Drake yelled from his room, "Get off your arse! I will not pay your part of the rent if you get fired!"

I rolled my eyes, but jumped up to get ready.

I arrived to work ten minutes late. Mr. Callus was at the counter checking an older woman out. I waved at him, and he chuckled as I raced to the back to grab my name tag. I noticed a few huge boxes, and sighed, relieved. Today, I could just sit in the back, marking books. I didn't have to make contact with anyone.

As I grabbed for the box cutter, Mr. Callus waddled into the back.

"No, no,no," He muttered, grabbing the knife from my hand. "You are out front today, the ladies would rather look at you than me!" he chuckled and pushed me towards the door. I honestly hated working out front. The attention from most of the women, or occasional man, was flattering, but got annoying fast. Plus, I was constantly worrying that some random wizard would walk in and recognize me.

Today was going by slowly, only a few people came in and fewer purchased anything. Perhaps low numbers would deter Mr. Callus from sending me out here again.

I noticed a few books on the floor and walked over to pick them up. After reading the spine, I bent down to put one back in its place.

"Excuse me?" A soft feminine voice startled me and I snapped up, knocking into a beautiful red-head. The momentum knocked a cup of scalding hot coffee out of her hand and onto my chest.

"Oh! Sorry!" she squeaked as her face flushed red.

I stared at her for a moment before I realized she was not who I thought. Right after that, I realized my shirt was burning against my already tender chest. I ripped the offending piece of clothing off and threw it to the floor.

"Uh," the small woman gasped quietly and stared at my chest.

Coming to my senses, I grabbed my shirt off the floor.

"Erhmn, excuse me a moment." I stammered and turned to run towards the back room. When I burst through the door Mr. Callus jumped slightly.

"Whoa!" He grabbed at his chest, "You about gave me a heart attack! What happened to your shirt?"

"Coffee spill," I muttered.

"Oh, I believe there is an old shirt in the break room," he chuckled and then added, "Nice tattoo!" as I ran back towards the break room.

The shirt was a navy, silk button down, and was obviously owned by a much smaller man. I couldn't even button it across my chest. I could hear Mr. Callus laughing in the other room. He knew it wouldn't fit, which meant that I couldn't size it correctly with my wand, nor could I clean my own shirt. Damn.

I walked out the door and past my boss, who was red-faced from laughing so hard. I walked back to where I left the small red-head. She was still waiting.

"Okay," I said catching her attention, "What can I help you with?"

Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the giggles that exploded out of it.

I raised an eyebrow at her and placed hand on my hip, pushing the shirt open wider.

"What? You don't like my shirt?"

I don't know why I did that, but she burst out laughing. Maybe that was it, I enjoyed her laugh. Then I realized I was flirting and dropped my hand to my side.

"I'm sorry. Can I help you find something?" I asked in a serious voice.

She stopped laughing and looked at me with a confused face. "I just wanted to know when you closed tonight."

I looked up at the clock on the wall, 7:50pm. "Oh, ten minutes," I answered cooly, "excuse me." And I walked back towards the counter.

As I walked back to my flat about a half hour later, I replayed my actions in my head. Had I actually flirted with that girl? It was a weird thought, and I tried to push it from my mind. I thought I had convinced myself that no girl should ever be subject to my life. Ever.

It was about 8:45pm when I got home. It was too early to go to bed, but didn't really care. Besides, Drake would wake me and ask to go out tonight when he got home.

I stripped off the offensive silk shirt and kicked off my shoes before climbing into my bed. I didn't want to think and hoped my sleep would be dreamless.

I woke to an annoying tapping sound outside of my window. Groaning, I stumbled out of my bed and glared towards my clock, 3:00 am. The tapping got more insistent. Without much thought, I flung open the window. To my utter surprise, a small owl came fluttering into my room.

"What the bloody hell?" I yelled as the spastic bird zoomed around my room. "Pigwidgion! How the hell did you find me?"

I grabbed the bird and ripped the letter off his leg, and then I chucked the bird out the window and slammed it shut. I glared down at the rolled parchment. Someone had actually succeeded in finding me, and that scared me. I unrolled the parchment and froze. It was Ginny's handwriting.

"Harry!" Drake's voice screamed through the door. The door flung open and Drake stumbled in, obviously sloshed. I turned to look at him.

"It was her."

A/N Hey! So, this will be the only chapter this week. Finals started today. I maybe persuaded if there are a bunch of reviews though... ;-)

-Sarah