Chapter 2

Harry slept in and almost missed breakfast entirely, due to the nature and duration of his late night-activities. He had woken just in time only because a very hungry Ron, who looked as though he had been awake for hours, had vehemently insisted that Harry go down and make sure that Hermione was coming that day: he did so with a good few nasty jumps on Harry's bed. Harry, ignoring a faint throb in his scar, crawled from beneath the duvet, demonstrating the speed and grace of a great banana slug, and made his way down to the dining room.

Harry sat at the table, fingering the grooves in the unpolished wood: Mrs. Weasley had insisted that he sit and wait for the freshest stack of pancakes.

He grunted a scratchy hello as he noticed Fred and George, who were seated on either side of the table, just finishing their breakfasts. They both gave him wide, knowing grins as Ginny came trouncing down the stairs, her hair damp with a fresh shower, and announced matter-of-factly, "Hermione is coming to stay until school starts. We're meeting her in Diagon Alley this afternoon."

Mr. Weasley, who was sitting at the end of the table with his nose buried in the latest edition of The Daily Prophet, replied, "yes, of course, dear," in a tone that implied that he wasn't the least bit aware of anything else going on in the room.

It occurred to Harry just then that he would be seeing Hermione sooner than he had anticipated, sans Ron, who had been condemned by Mrs. Weasley to stay in his room. Gazing at Ginny as she approached the table, Harry wondered if he would be able to act normally around Hermione.

Ginny sat across from Harry and nodded curtly at him. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he hadn't yet brushed his teeth.

"Good morning," she greeted everyone at the table.

Harry recognized the scent of the clove shampoo wafting over to him from her hair. It called to his mind the instance in which he had first smelled it, in the shower, while Ginny's hands roamed over him, her breasts softly tickling his chest, beads of moisture clinging between the small space separating their bodies. He was then jerked back again into his pregnancy paranoia. He eyed Ginny as she picked up a piece of slightly warm toast and ladled upon it an excessive amount of orange marmalade. A big gob of it stuck on the side of her lip as she chewed. Harry moved to brush it off but he stilled his hand just as it lifted off the table, aware that Fred and George were watching him carefully.

"Harry," Fred whispered into his ear, "you should stop by our new shop while you're in Diagon Alley this afternoon."

"We want to test out... er, show you the latest products for the Weasley Wizard Wheezes," George urged.

"Er... okay," agreed Harry, though what he really was thinking about just then was cornering Ginny and licking off her marmalade.

He mentally shook himself. I mean, talk about things, he thought quickly, cowering under the shadow of impending paternal doom. Fred and George nodded at him and disapparated.

Harry looked over at Ginny again. She was chewing thoughtfully, staring into the fireplace which danced in ribbons of crimson and yellow. The light bounced off of her large, brown eyes, lending them a molten quality: they shone as if they had been obsidian pebbles, glazed and then thrown into a kiln. He wondered if she were thinking at all about him, and why she seemed so aloof last night after they had...

He really hadn't a clue how he could redeem himself after... after acting like he had. She had, after all, been very nice about swallowing his... Harry shuddered slightly thinking about it, though as he watched her swallow some toast he was surprised that he became aroused. He felt rather sheepish sitting with her in front of her family, considering all that had transpired between them in the last twelve hours.

The arrival of fresh pancakes under his nose broke this train of thought. He dove into the stack ravenously, forgetting the fact that Ginny seemed to be purposeful in absently snubbing him.

Halfway up the staircase, after he had finished his breakfast and left Ginny sitting at the table, Harry realized with a lurch of his stomach that he would have to break it to Ron that Hermione wasn't coming straight there, that she would be meeting him first.

After he'd given him the news, Harry thought that Ron had taken it rather well, really.

"You!" Ron turned on Harry with a pointed finger and advanced slowly towards him. Harry tried to maintain a calm exterior, but the sight of Ron's enflamed expression made him want to laugh and cower at the same time.

"I know what you've been up to," Ron seethed through clenched teeth. He stared at Harry through red eyes and continued his slow prowl. "I know that you've read Hermione's letter. And I know that you've been salivating over my picture." Ron towered over Harry, who was trying to figure out the least noticeable way to leap from a seated position on the bed to a less conspicuous position underneath it. Ron grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, canceling out all said notions. "And I bloody well know that you've got a thing for her, don't you? Don't you, Harry?!"

"I... I don't..."

Ron stood very close to Harry, his face hovering mere inches from the other boy's. "Leave Hermione alone! You can have anything, I haven't got much... but she's mine."

Harry could tell that Ron hadn't yet brushed his teeth, either.

"Ron," began Harry, as gently as he could manage, "you're standing on my foot."

Ron glowered at him, breathing very heavily. Then he backed away, sat at the end of his own bed, and buried his face in his hands. Harry thought that he ought to say something reassuring, but he couldn't quite make anything sound quite right in his head.

"I'm in love with her, Harry," said Ron.

Harry really didn't have any sort of sentence come to his brain that might appropriately counter that statement, though he did get a sort of sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Silence made its presence known for a good few seconds.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry in a small voice.

Ron nodded and looked up at him. His eyes were red with unshed tears and the remnants of a long sleep. "Look, just please, please, please don't try to be with her, Harry. I'd just die." Ron gave Harry a look. "But I'd kill you first."

Harry let out a very feeble laugh. "Ron, really, we're all meeting her at Diagon Alley, it's no big deal. She'll be coming back with us soon after, so you can be with her as early as this evening. That's not far off at all," said Harry, who kept one nervous hand clamped to his knee, the other under his thigh.

"Right, this evening," repeated Ron.

"Exactly. You might want to think about having a bath, you know, and a shave. Your mum won't be here, so you might as well take advantage of that as much as you can. And, truly," Harry approached the subject with caution, "I may have read the letter, but it was only a mad curiosity. I mean, I just thought that your mum had to have a really good reason to get so worked up!" Harry tried to smile.

Ron smirked. "Right, Harry. I know you, I'm your best friend, remember?" He snorted. "If it had been me, I probably would've done the same thing." Ron grinned at him, but it was the sort of grin that would've made Snape cringe at its swarthiness.

"Er... right," agreed Harry weakly.

"So don't give me any more of this codswallop about 'a mad curiosity.' Look, you've everything you want, Harry, you're Head Boy this year, you scored really well on your O.W.Ls, you're Quidditch captain... Let me have Hermione. I love her, Harry, I love her, and you... you don't." Ron's eyes pierced through Harry's. "And you know it."

Harry thought that Ron was being just a bit unfair. After all, Hermione was his best friend, too, he did love her, in a way, and he certainly didn't have everything he wanted. Voldemort was immortal (albeit cursed and weak), Sirius was still in hiding without good prospect of changing his standing in the wizard world, and his family and Dumbledore were all still very dead. Despite all this, considering the likelihood that Ron would throw an even bigger fit he argued, Harry said only "alright." Then he left the room.

Aside from a brief few moments during which he practiced the art of dental hygiene, Harry spent the rest of the morning by himself, doing loops around the Burrow on his Firebolt 97. His body and mind were teeming with emotion, as he tried to work through the strange circumstances that he'd gotten himself into. He flew into the woods behind the house, fast and low he dodged tree trunks and wayward branches. By the time afternoon had arrived, he had worked up quite an appetite. He had also come to the conclusion that, in order to preserve his friendship with Ron, he probably should hide these new feelings he had for Hermione as best he could. He thought that he really just needed to work things out with Ginny, who happened just then to be standing outside the Burrow, her hair shone like phlogiston in the summer sun, and her hand shielded her eyes from the bright sky as she watched him descend.

"Hallo, Harry," she said as he landed a few feet away from her. He pulled up his broomstick and shot her a smile.

"Hi Ginny. You look as if you've been waiting for me."

"Well, aren't you... presumptuous," she said tartly. She walked over to him easily, hands swaying at her sides. Harry noticed that she looked particularly striking this afternoon, in a baby blue t-shirt and a pair of faded cut-off jeans. From the dirt on her hands and knees Harry guessed that she had been doing work in the garden. There was a smudge of dust on her cheek and Harry wiped it off with a brush of his hand as she drew near, which brought a reluctant smile to her face.

"You look good when you're dirty," said Harry, surprising himself with this boldness.

Ginny grinned. "You look... sweaty," she replied, her nose wrinkling.

Harry snorted. "Thanks," he said, and then he surprised himself even more by suddenly picking her up and swinging her around in circles until he was ready to collapse with dizziness.

Her face was flushed with laughter as they toppled to the ground. "Eww, now you've got your stink all over me," she said, smelling her shirt.

"Guess you'll be needing another shower," said a supine, breathless Harry, with a guardedly suggestive rasp to his voice. When, after a short time, Ginny didn't reply, he pulled himself up slightly and propped his head up with his hand, elbow digging into the ground. "So, why were you waiting for me, then?"

"I'm supposed to fetch you for lunch," she replied. She looked over at him from her reclined position on the grass. "Well, I... I suppose they'll be wondering what we're up to."

"Yeah," said Harry, whose stomach responded eagerly to the suggestion of eating, but whose mind really was insistent that he sort out this pregnancy issue. "Listen, Gin, about last night..."

"What about it, Harry?"

"Er... well, I was just thinking... is there a chance that you, um, might be... you know, um... pregnant?"

Ginny looked at him like a squid has just crawled out of his nose. And then she laughed like Harry had never seen her laugh before. It was an eruption of sound, flooding out of her body in a tumult of "ha!" She threw back her head and opened her mouth to the sparse clouds, her voice trumpeting to the sun, tears forming at the corners of her tightly shut eyes. She looked as though she had to press hard on her belly to stop her insides from shaking right out.

Harry giggled a few times in the way that people do when they see other people laughing but don't understand the humor. Ginny's seizure lasted a long while, the laughter interspersed with a few wipes of her eyes.

"Oh Harry," she said, trying to catch her breath, "my sides are positively burning. That was brilliant, thanks."

"Er... what's so funny?" he said, feeling very awkward.

She gave him a look. "Harry, do you think I'm so stupid that I wouldn't think about contraceptives? Really. I've been on a wizard birth control potion regularly since I first went to Hogwarts." Noticing his surprise, she further commented, "It's not as if you were my first, Harry, so you can get over whatever impressions about... last night that you might have had. I really wasn't trying to trap you into being my boyfriend, or anything else that you might think."

If there had been a floor within reasonable proximity to them, Harry would have been floored. "Ginny, I didn't think... What do you mean you... Did I... Did I do something wrong?" he stammered quite inarticulately, but Ginny had risen from the ground and dusted herself off, and appeared ready to go inside.

"I'll just tell the others that you'll be right in, then," she said, and she turned and walked back to the house.

Harry dimly was aware that he had risen and carried his Firebolt back to the house, but his mind was actively preoccupied with the news that Ginny had just given him. He was trying to come up with who, exactly, Ginny had slept with, and why he had thought that he had taken her virginity, and on top of this, how did he really feel about her? And where did this leave him, now that he had no one to preempt his interest in Hermione? As he sat next to Percy at the end of the Weasley table, mumbling a greeting to all those present, he silently mulled over possible candidates who would have paired up with Ginny, but all he could come up with was Neville Longbottom, the thought of which caused him to snort up milk as he was drinking and send it shooting out of his nose.

"All right, Harry?" said Percy, who was visibly trying not to be disgusted. Fred and George were hooting with laughter across the way.

"Something the matter, Harry?" spoke Ginny innocently from the other end of the table. Harry realized that everyone was looking at him.

"I'm alright," he said, and proceeded to busy himself with his food.

By the time everyone had eaten and all were preparing for the trip to Diagon Alley, Harry had resolved just to lay low and try not to sulk too much when he had to hang out with the others. That was the best he could come up with just then, for he was absolutely terrified to think what would happen when he came to meet Hermione face to face with Ginny, who seemed infuriatingly indifferent to his inner struggle, in tow.

When it came down to it, though, it didn't feel like a big deal.

Everyone left the Burrow (except Ron, who was still incarcerated in his room) simultaneously: Arthur and Percy apparated back to the Ministry; George and Fred apparated to their shop in Diagon Alley; Molly, Ginny, and Harry left to Diagon Alley by floo powder. Harry wiped his glasses of soot as he stepped from the blue flames. He had just put them back on his face when he saw Hermione, hugging Ginny and waving madly at him over Ginny's shoulder.

Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight of her.

The newness and wonder of Diagon Alley hadn't faded from Harry's mind since he had first come there seven years ago. As he looked around the crowded street, he rifled through his memories of that moment after first stepping through the Leaky Cauldron's entrance with Hagrid. Much like that day, today there were pedestrians of all shapes, colors and sizes wearing all sorts of funny hats as far as his eyes could see, and all who walked appeared to be carrying at least one or two oddly shaped packages as they made the rounds of the shops. There were a few wide-eyed muggles (as far as Harry could tell) being dragged around by youngsters who pointed out every little thing to their elder companions, which was quite a lot indeed.

Ah, another school year was upon them.

Harry noted the looks of awe present on the youngest shoppers' faces. The latest model of Firebolt was on display in the window next to Gladrags; there was a gaggle of young would-be riders standing on tiptoe around it, gawking. Their hands pressed up longingly against the glass, they whispered audibly about the unfairness of an institution that would deny its attendants such a fine tool their first year. Though it inspired looks of awe from the young wizards-to-be, ("is that who I think it is?" one of them whispered loudly to his friend) Harry couldn't resist taking a glimpse at the broom himself as he passed by and entered Gladrags, following Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley.

The three women literally dove at the phalanx of dress robes for young women available there. The store was bursting with customers, most of whom Harry did not recognize, and all of whom, much to his dismay, recognized him.

"Bless me, it's Harry Potter himself!" said a stranger.

"Mind if I have a picture, Harry?" asked another. Harry was inevitably reminded of Colin Creevey.

He was used to this. Because of his everlasting fame, Harry was constantly burdened with the benefits and banality that come with the 'celebrity' title. People never ceased to ask him for an autograph or a picture, stopping him in the street no matter who he was with or what he was doing. On the plus side, he got many a discount from practically every shop that he visited, and received personal attention from the owners as he perused the merchandise. He had therefore been able to strike a deal with Mrs. Weasley before they left that afternoon: he would buy whatever items she wanted with his special discount, and then she would pay him back when they visited Gringott's before going home. This arrangement made the day of following Ginny and Hermione about more tolerable, since he felt good about giving something back to the Weasleys, after all they'd done for him.

And as far as Hermione was concerned, he didn't find any chance to speak with her except about the most mundane of topics, for Ginny was stuck to the other girl's side like plankton the whole afternoon, watching Harry with a hawk's eye. Harry wasn't displeased about this, though; he knew it would make Ron happy to know that he didn't spend any time whatesoever alone with Hermione. Hermione, however, did give him some strange looks throughout the day, as she and Ginny shopped and talked privately with one another. Harry wondered what this was all about. It made him nervous, for example, when Ginny and Hermione, across the room from him, watched as Padma and Parvati Patil approached him in Gladrags.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry," said Parvati with a smile, "I have been meaning to get you into a corner for some time now." The sisters each held a bundle of what seemed to be a mixture of dress robes and lacy undergarments. Each of them wore the same wan smile on her lips. They both carried themselves in very similar fashion; if Padma hadn't had bangs Harry was fairly certain that he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart.

"Er, what?" said Harry, playing dumb. He didn't like this sort of attention at all, much less in a place quite visible to Hermione, Ginny, or Mrs. Weasley, who was practically his mother.

The twins stepped closer to him, and he took a step back. "Harry," Parvati purred, "I think that it has been obvious that I've wanted to spend some good quality time with you since our fourth year together, and yet I can't ever seem to get you away from your little friends for even one minute..."

"Yes, where is Ron Weasley anyway?" said Padma with a scowl.

"Padma, focus," chided Parvati. They both smiled at him, and he wondered at how their teeth sparkled even in a dimly lit room. "I admit, I do have a bit of a thing for you, Harry, and so does Padma, here." The other girl nodded.

Harry was very surprised at himself for recognizing the come-on before it came.

"Anyway, we have a little bet going, here, as to who is better, you know," Parvati leaned forward and hissed into his ear, "in the sack. Could you, perhaps, help us out?"

Harry shuddered, and not entirely out of revulsion. He had to admit that his curiosity was piqued the tiniest bit, despite the fact that he felt very deeply that neither of the Patils would have given him a glance if he didn't have a scar on his forehead. He looked around the shop and saw that no one was paying attention to them in the least, though he could just see the back of Mrs. Weasley in a corner, bending over the sales rack.

"Look, I'm going to Fred and George's new shop later. If you really want me to, er, help you with this bet" -he gulped- "then meet me there at six."

"You're not just trying to get rid of us, are you then, Harry?" Padma's eyes scrutinized him.

"No, no, I'll be there," assured Harry

The twins grinned and advanced on the clerk.

Harry turned back to his friends and caught a slight scowl from Ginny, which he returned.

After Harry had bought himself a fine set of dark green dress robes, Ginny some purple, and Hermione some red ones, the four shoppers went to Flourish and Blott's. There they spent fifteen minutes shopping for schoolbooks, and about forty-five following Hermione through every aisle. Next, they were fitted for new school robes at Madam Malkin's (who never ceased to give Harry the creeps when she was measuring him), then they went to Gringott's, after that they got some treats for their animals, and finally, too tired and hungry to go on any longer, Harry offered to buy them dinner at the Leaky Cauldron.

"I just don't see the point," said Ginny with her mouth full some time later, "of being a vegetarian if you are going to still brew potions! Think about all the ingredients, Hermione, bat's wings, newt's eyes, dragon blood..."

"I know it may not make very much sense now," said Hermione, twirling her fork inside a baked potato that wore no topping, "but it's a step, you know. It's something that I am still figuring out."

"Well, to be sure, dear, it's a noble gesture," spoke Mrs. Weasley with a worried look on her face, "but is it safe? How are you keeping yourself well? What can you eat without milk, or eggs, or..."

"If there is anyone in the world who can figure out how to do the impossible, Mrs. Weasley, it's Hermione," said Harry. Hermione beamed at him. Ginny rolled her eyes at him from across the table and wiped her mouth with a telling smirk.

"I certainly hope you don't mind if we all continue to be carnivores, despite your arguments," she said to Hermione tartly.

"Omnivores, you mean," Hermione corrected. Ginny stared blankly back at her. "Vegetarianism is really quite normal, in the muggle world, at least. Why, Buddhists everywhere embrace the lifestyle, and so do people who are concerned with animal rights, and the environment... I was thinking, if only I could explain the conditions of things, the reasons behind why I am doing this, people would see that..."

"Really, dear, I think you'd be asking a bit much of wizards and muggles alike," said Mrs. Weasley in a kind but dismissive tone.

Harry was imagining for himself and Ron a near future of having to hide their eating habits from Hermione, join a club, and wear some sort of vegetarian outfits or hats made out of vegetables that stank of mold, both of which she'd likely already made.

"Actually, Mum, there is a faction of wizards who are strict vegetarians. Or, so I've heard, anyway," said Ginny, her eyes fixed on her plate.

"Really?" asked Hermione, interested. "Who are they? I've looked and looked and nothing's..."

"Death Eaters," said Ginny while she speared a bit of curried turkey on her fork. "You-Know-Who is a firm believer in the merits of a vegetarian diet. So I've heard."

"Oh," said Hermione, an unusual expression of bewilderment on her face.

The table was quiet for a few seconds, save for the sound of mastication.

Hermione asked in a light tone, "so, why wasn't Ron allowed to come, exactly? What sort of trouble is he in this time?"

Ginny met Harry's eyes while Mrs. Weasley answered: "That little pervert? Why, if it were up to me, I'd keep him locked in his room the whole school year! But that wouldn't make a difference at all, I'm sure."

Hermione's face grew pale as Mrs. Weasley went on to explain in no uncertain terms how there was a certain hussy who was corrupting her son, and if she ever made herself known, Mrs. Weasley would wring her neck.

"I see," said Hermione in a small voice. Ginny was having great difficulty with keeping a straight face, waggling her eyes suggestively at Harry as she chewed. Harry thought that this was as good a time as any to change the subject.

"So," said Harry cheerily, "who wants to come with me to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

Much as he's thought, no one had wanted to accompany him. Ginny and her mother had spent too many years at the receiving end of Fred and George's pranks to voluntarily go within sight of the shop, and Hermione (Harry was privately chagrined at this) seemed rather eager to get to the Burrow. He tried not to think of what sort of things she'd be doing, and with whom, when she got there. Instead, he just fixated on the thought of the Patil twins enacting their competition.

"I'll just floo home from the shop," said Harry as he left them.

Despite his apprehensions about the motivations of the Patils, Harry did have a bit of a spring in his step as he walked down the cobblestone street.

He pictured them together, standing side by side in front of him, wearing nothing but tiny genie outfits made of very translucent material. To slow, intoxicating sitar music, they'd both sway their hips side to side, their waists rocking gently back and forth, back and forth in tandem, mesmerizing him into hardness. They'd take off their layers one by one, very gracefully, wiggling as the last remnants of cloth shimmied down their long legs to the floor. And then they'd both get on their knees and crawl towards him. He'd feel four hands exploring his chest and thighs, yanking his clothes gently off, and then while Padma slithered her tongue up his neck and covered his mouth, Parvati would work her lips over his navel and move down...

He reached the shop and felt that he almost would rather stay outside and continue his fantasy than go in and actually face the girls. Almost.

The door shut behind him with a ring. His fantasy was instantly dampened by the still atmosphere of the place. The lights were on, but despite that and the array of toys and gags that lined the shelves of the tiny shop, the whole place had a definite feeling of emptiness to it. He turned around and noticed that there was a closed sign up in the window. He tried to think of a good reason why the door hadn't been locked, but couldn't come up with anything.

Unable to contain his curiosity, he crept stealthily around the displays to the back of the store, and then, after he saw and heard nothing particularly unusual, he skirted around the desk and sneaked into the storeroom.

He had to pinch himself in assurance that he wasn't dreaming the setting before him. The storeroom to the Wizard Wheezes had been converted to some sort of pleasure chamber, and it was filled to the brim with wizards and witches milling about, dressed in all sorts of bondage and fantasy gear. Harry had never seen so much leather and lace in his life. People of all ages ambled about the store, talking amicably, and examining random items of merchandise that were lying about. Harry recognized a few faces; Dedalus Diggle was there dressed as a muggle housewife, with yellow rubber gloves, toilet plunger and all. Dennis Creevey was there, conspicuously without his brother, wearing only a British flag that was twisted around him in a way that just covered his privates. Harry's jaw dropped when he saw Gilderoy Lockhart walking around wearing a pair of lacy red panties and a leather corset, arm in arm with none other than Susan Bones (who was Harry's age) and who was dressed in a tiny French maid costume! Scandalous, Harry thought to himself.

The room held a considerable number of Slytherins of present and past, much to Harry's surprise. He had thought that a Weasley owned shop would have been shunned by the Slytherin community. Nonetheless, there was Malcolm Baddock standing in a dark corner with Pansy Parkinson, as pug-faced as ever in her lacy green teddy. A kid whom Harry was sure had to be only going into his third year was there doing unspeakable things to a nearly-nude Blaise Zabini. Marcus Flint, wearing a thong, was arguing with Fred about something near the counter. Harry peered around the room, and looked nervously for signs of the potions professor, Snape, but instead of finding him, his eyes landed on someone even more revolting. Malfoy. In the far corner he lurked, smirking, handsome, clad entirely in dragon leather, and each of his arms was wrapped around a Patil twin. Harry groaned at the sight of them, and quickly searched the walls for a clock. It read 6:17.

So, he was late. He deserved it, he told himself as he turned back toward the way he came. He reminded himself that he really hadn't wanted to have anything to do with the Patils anyway, right?

"Oi, Harry!" rang Fred's voice over the muttering crowd. Harry froze in his tracks. He really would have preferred a less conspicuous exit.

"Fred," Harry turned his head and mustered a cheery tone as the red-haired man approached. "What an interesting new twist you've come up with!"