Sweet Sixteen

8:Sweet Sixteen

Harry was able to take the Dreamless Sleeping Potion the night the OWL results arrived; therefore, he’d slept wonderfully. He stretched lazily, hesitating to open his eyes to start another day. He could hear Ron’s snoring across the room and knew his friend wouldn’t be up for several more hours. He smiled, listening to Ron; his snoring really had gotten worse as he got older. Just as Harry was considering rolling over and trying to fall back to sleep, the door burst open, and Hermione and Ginny entered the room. Hermione wore a bright pink dressing gown, and her hair was pulled back from her face. Ginny’s dressing gown was a pale blue and tossed loosely over her yellow pajamas. Both girls had brightly wrapped packages in their hands. “Happy Birthday, Harry!” they chorused.

Harry blinked at them in surprise, birthday ? Today was July 31st, his sixteenth birthday. Harry had been so wrapped up in his other problems, he’d completely let it slip his mind. Aside from his eleventh birthday, when Hagrid had arrived with his Hogwarts letter, he’d never spent a birthday away from Privet Drive. Not one he could remember, anyway. His birthdays with the Dursleys were always low-key, to say the least. The idea of spending the entire day with his friends pleased him, and he couldn’t help the slow, joyous smile that crossed his face. Both Ginny and Hermione were happy to see that smile; it had been a long time since they’d seen Harry so happy.

“Oi, Ron, wake up,” said Ginny, taking a pillow and tossing it across the room at her still-snoozing brother. “You’re missing your best mate’s birthday.”

Ron sat up quickly, his head turning from side to side in alarm. “Whasamatta?”

Hermione giggled and went and sat on the edge of his bed, ruffling his sleep-worn hair. “It’s Harry’s birthday, Ron. Wish him well.”

Ron started rubbing his eyes, obviously not thrilled to have been woken up. “Happy Birthday, mate,” he grumbled.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “I lived another year.”

All three of the rooms other occupants looked at him sharply. “That’s not funny, Harry,” Hermione scolded.

Ginny sat on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Way to kill a mood, sunshine.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the sarcasm. He also couldn’t help the way his eyes kept being drawn to the neckline of Ginny’s dressing gown, which was loosely fastened, revealing the lightly freckled skin visible above the opening of her pajama top. If she moved the right way, he could catch just the barest hint of cleavage. He kept trying to force his eyes upward, but they seemed to have a will of their own. What the bloody hell is going on with me about Ginny?

Ron also noticed where Harry’s attention was focused and fought hard to cover his grin. Most everyone thought Ron was unobservant and blissfully unaware of those around him, but he actually noticed a lot; he noticed, he just usually didn’t acknowledge it. He’d noticed the furtive glances Harry had been casting at his sister all week, as well as the ones she returned, unobserved by his friend.

Ron was also well aware of Ginny sneaking into their room each night to comfort Harry after his nightmares. He’d heard Harry calling for Sirius in his sleep and wished he could do something to ease his friend’s pain. Although he wouldn’t openly condone the idea of Ginny being in Harry’s bed, he was glad she’d found a way to help him. Harry seemed willing to show a vulnerability to her that he wouldn’t reveal to either Ron or Hermione. If Ginny could help him, and Harry was willing to let her, Ron was grateful.

Ron wasn’t stupid, nor was he naïve. There was something going on between his sister and his best mate, and no one could be happier about it than he was. He had realized that Ginny had never really gotten over her crush on Harry, no matter what she said. He also knew that Harry desperately needed someone in his life to care about him, care about him more than a friend could. He still kicked himself when he thought about the fight he and Harry had before the TriWizard tournament. He had let jealousy and petty envy blur his vision. Harry had never asked for any of the attention given to him, and, truth be told, he hated it. He should have never doubted that. Harry had never asked for an apology, and he was going to make sure he’d never need one again.

Maybe it was just the fact that Ron was so happy snogging Hermione senseless that he wanted everyone else to be happy, too. Too many bad things had happened to Harry; even his first experience with kissing wasn’t exactly good. Snogging should be a good thing , he thought, feeling a contented grin creep across his face. Shaking his head slightly, he forcibly dragged his thoughts away from the direction they were headed. No one deserved a good snog more than Harry did, and Ginny deserved something in return for her endless patience with a slow-on-the-uptake Harry. He was aware that he was not one to talk. It certainly had taken him long enough to get over his own nervousness and admit he had feelings for his other best friend, but now that he had, he knew he was a fool for being so thick for so long. Harry certainly hadn’t passed on the opportunity to poke fun at him over it; now it was his turn to watch Harry stew and try to figure things out.

Both Harry and Ginny had been hurt by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, far more than the rest of them, and Ron firmly believed that they were the best ones to help each other deal with their traumas. Ginny was his little sister, and he couldn’t think of a worthier match for her than his best friend. Harry could be moody, closed-off, and downright difficult at times. He couldn’t think of anyone more stubborn than Ginny, who would be able to handle Harry and rein him in when needed. Yes , thought Ron, this was going to be interesting .

“I mean it, Harry,” Hermione was saying. “That’s not the kind of thing to joke about. You’re sixteen years old, and you have a long, wonderful life ahead of you.”

Harry gave her a look that for an instant held such an intense pain and raw sorrow that it nearly took her breath away. The shadow that fell on his face lasted only a brief moment before he covered it again, but the looks on both Ron and Ginny’s faces showed that they had caught it, too. Harry was hiding something.

“Harry,” Ginny said tentatively. “Is anything wrong?”

“You know, Harry,” Hermione said, “if you ever need to talk, any one of us is always here and happy to listen.” She said this last part while pointedly staring at Ginny, including her in their group. Ginny’s heart swelled at these words; she’d always felt like an outsider looking in when they would get together. Being included meant the world to her.

“I know, you’ve all been great,” Harry replied, also pointedly including Ginny. “It’s really nothing.”

Ginny was sure it wasn’t ‘nothing’, but she was also sure Harry wasn’t going to tell them more now. She knew she was going to have to lighten the mood or she would break down and cry. “Mum wanted to have a big party, but with security and all…we couldn’t really do that. Instead, the rest of the Order will be stopping by, and I know Fred and George have some surprises planned.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“We asked if we could get Neville, Dean, and Seamus to stop by, but no go,” Ron added.

Harry’s brow had creased momentarily at the mention of his roommates. “Neville would have been okay, but it’s best to keep things quiet from the others. Even with the change in the Ministry’s stance on Voldemort, I think the Order still would like to keep information about them quiet.”

Ron was nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We don’t know how much we can trust Dean anyway.” Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation as Ron continued, “Seamus would be all right, though.”

“Yeah, until the next Daily Prophet article calling me a nutter comes along.”

“He apologized for that, Harry. He doesn’t think that anymore.”

“He’s lived with me since first year, Ron. He should know me for me by now, not what some article in the paper says.”

Ron was stunned into silence. He didn’t know Harry was still harboring ill feelings about the way Seamus had treated him the previous year. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Harry. He probably would have used his fists on a whole lot of others besides Malfoy if he had been in Harry’s shoes last year. Looking at his friend’s face, he could see he was more hurt than angry, and he felt a sudden surge of annoyance towards Seamus Finnigan, much the same as he was feeling towards Dean Thomas. “Okay, so no roommates for a party. It’ll be more fun with us, anyway.”

“Let’s get some breakfast. I’m sure Mum’s prepared a feast,” said Ginny.

As they started downstairs, Harry paused a moment and put a hand on Sirius’ door. There will be no birthday greeting from Sirius this year , he thought sadly as he felt that familiar wall of grief rising within his chest. As if she realized his mood, Ginny tentatively reached out and touched his hand. Without really thinking what he was doing, Harry turned his palm face up and clasped her fingers. She squeezed his hand, giving him wordless reassurance, and pulled him along.

He was completely unaware of the singsong voice in Ginny’s head that kept repeating, I’m holding Harry’s hand. I’m holding Harry’s hand.

******

Harry was lying on his bed a few hours before the party was set to begin, running through the events of the day in his head. It had been spent much as any other, with chess, gobstones, and some laughter. Ron had told everyone that he was to be the new Quidditch captain. It seemed to Harry that Ron was feeling awkward about it, perhaps because of surfacing feelings of inadequacy along with worry about Harry’s reaction. Harry put a huge smile on his face and was very encouraging, which pleased Ron. Harry noticed both Ginny and Hermione giving him odd, appraising sorts of looks, but he had refused to meet their eyes. Even though Harry would love to be captain of the Quidditch team, he really believed Ron would be better at it. There was no way Harry would have the time Ron could devote to it, and it was what Ron had pictured in the Mirror of Erised all those years ago. That, and being Head Boy. Ron was a Prefect; he was half-way to realizing his innermost desires. Harry’s thoughts continued to ponder that mirror. He had seen his family when he’d looked at it; he wondered what he’d see if he looked in it today. Maybe that was half his problem; Ron at least had the common sense to desire something attainable.

Even with the laughter and the fun, Harry was in a bad mood. It had started that morning while he was staring at Sirius’ doorway, and he just couldn’t seem to shake it. It had only gotten worse when Remus had pulled him aside and informed him that Sirius had left the entire Black fortune, including this house, to Harry and Remus. Remus had said they should let the Order continue using the house as headquarters, and Harry had merely agreed. He would have agreed to anything just to get out of that room and stop talking about it. On some level, he wasn’t surprised; all the Order members had active wills and Sirius had been no exception, but somehow the will made it all so much more real and…final. Sirius was really dead.

Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He had known that Sirius was gone, he’d known all along, but somehow, having it all spelled out made it forever. Harry didn’t want this house; he hated this house with all its stupid portraits and gloomy rooms. It had been Sirius’s prison, just another one in his life, and Harry would rather see it burned to the ground. He didn’t want that money; he didn’t need it, and it was just another reminder of how wrong everything had turned out. He didn’t want the money, the house, or any of the things in it. He just wanted Sirius. But some things were just never meant to be…

Remus seemed to understand Harry’s disgust, but he gently reminded him that if Harry refused, the estate would probably end up with the Malfoys, or worse, Bellatrix Lestrange herself. Harry would never allow that to happen. He’d asked Remus to take half of his share and have it transferred to the Weasleys’ Gringotts account. He knew they would fight him, but he had no intention of backing down. They deserved it; they had been more responsible for raising him than the Dursleys. This was something good that Harry could actually do for them. He wasn’t about to let them take that away for pride’s sake.

Harry didn’t think Remus was any happier about the will than Harry was, although he didn’t say anything. Remus never gave much away. There were several times Harry would have really liked to ask him about his parents, but he held back. Remus seemed so reserved and reticent to share anything. Harry wasn’t sure how to breech that wall, or even if he should. He certainly was harder to approach than Sirius had ever been. Harry worried that maybe Remus really blamed him for the loss of his best friend?

All these thoughts were storming around in Harry’s head and giving him such a headache that he’d lain his arm across his eyes, leaning his forehead into the crook of his elbow. He hadn’t noticed the door open, or Hermione enter until she sat beside him.

“All right, Harry?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“What’s going on with you, Harry?” she asked in a very small voice.

Harry kept his eyes closed, his heart beating painfully in his chest. “How do you mean ?” Either must die at the hand of the other…

“I think there is something you’re not telling us, something that seems to be really bothering you. You can tell us anything, Harry; we’re all here for you,” she said, with a slight crack in her voice.

“I know that, Hermione. You lot are the best friends I could ever ask for .” For neither can live while the other survives…

“But you’re not going to tell me?”

Harry was quiet for a long time. Hermione thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, then finally he said, “No.” But it was an agonized whisper full of emotion and despair. It set her nerves on edge, and her ever-inquisitive nature into overdrive.

“Why not? Why so many secrets? Does this have anything to do with Sirius?”

Harry’s eyes flew open wide at the mention of his name. He sat up and pulled away from Hermione, closer to the wall. His feelings for Sirius were too raw at the moment to get into. “No,” he ground out, “it has nothing to do with Sirius or my ‘saving people thing.’ Just let it alone, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at Harry, her face stricken. “Harry, I didn’t mean that to hurt you.”

Harry felt the corner of his eyes start to prickle dangerously. There was no way he was going to break down in front of her, too. This just wasn’t going to happen. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? “Drop it,” he choked. “Please. I can’t do this now. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, but not now.”

Hermione could see him fighting to hold his composure, and that scared her more than anything. Harry had always kept his emotions in tight check, carefully guarded. If he was this close to losing control, whatever it was that was bothering him was worse than she thought. There was nothing to be done but wait him out, though. “Okay.” She leaned over and hugged him quickly before disappearing from the room.

Harry lay back down on his bed and groaned. He hadn’t meant to upset her. For crying out loud, it was his job to save the wizarding world; he shouldn’t have to comfort them because of it, too. He had to do something to change his attitude before the party, so he grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the shower.

Mrs. Weasley went all out for Harry’s party; there was more than enough food for a small army. After a festive dinner loaded with all of Harry’s favorite things, the small group entered the sitting room. Everyone in attendance was slightly leery of entering the room when they discovered it had been decorated with a number of items from Fred and George’s shop. This caused no small measure of delight for the shop’s proprietors. The party consisted of all the Weasley family members staying at Grimmauld Place, along with Remus, Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shaklebolt. Mundungus Fletcher made a late appearance and could be seen huddling in the corner with the twins. Molly Weasley kept a close eye on that situation.

Tonks and Remus sat on the couch, deep in conversation, while Bill Weasley was in the midst of a brutal chess match with Moody. Ron was paying close attention to the match, while Hermione absentmindedly kept peering over at Remus and Tonks, a knowing smile on her lips.

It was Ginny who had captured Harry’s attention. She wore a pair of faded Muggle jeans and a simple green T-shirt. The T-shirt, however, must have been old, for it was slightly too small and revealed a thin band of skin on her abdomen each time she moved. Harry was mesmerized and couldn’t take his eyes off her, waiting for each time her belly button would appear. He began to think she was doing it on purpose, knowing the effect she was having on him. There it went again! Harry felt a slight twinge in his shorts and shifted uncomfortably.

What in the name of all that was magic was going on? He remembered having similar feelings for Cho Chang before he’d actually got to know her, but this should be different . This was Ginny. She was a friend. She was Ron’s sister. She was part of the family who had taken him in as one of their own, she was NOT simply an attractive girl. He should not be feeling these things when he looked at her.

The extent of Harry’s knowledge on the facts of life came from overheard conversations between Ron and his other roommates. Harry wasn’t entirely sure if everything they said was accurate, or mere bragging. He knew that all of them had had fantasies about one girl or another... and probably others that they wouldn’t admit to - Ron and Hermione sprang to mind. Still, this sudden fascination with Ginny can’t be normal…there has to be another reason.

His thoughts were interrupted when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley asked him if they could have a word. Harry’s face flushed with guilt, but he quietly followed them from the room, stealing one last look at Ginny before he left.

Mr. Weasley was holding up a piece of parchment. Harry could see the name of Gringotts printed at the top. “I received a very interesting owl this afternoon, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said.

Harry looked at the floor. “It’s from Sirius’s will,” he said softly.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed his chin and raised his head to face hers. “He left this to you , Harry. We couldn’t possibly accept it. It’s incredibly generous, but–”

“No!” Harry said. “You have to take it. I don’t want it. I don’t need it.”

Both of the senior Weasley faces held both sympathy and pity, something Harry couldn’t bear to see. He didn’t want pity from them; he never wanted pity from them, so he changed tactics, looking at a spot on the floor as he talked. “Look, you’ve always been more a family to me than anyone else has ever tried to be. I’ve spent all my summers with you, and you’ve always taken care of me. Let me give something back.” Harry was getting more and more embarrassed as he went on, but he forced himself to continue. “I never told S- S- Sirius how much he meant to me, and I’m not going to make that mistake again. Please accept it. There has to be something good to come out of all this.”

When Harry finished speaking, he was quiet for a moment. Neither of the Weasleys said anything. Finally, he looked up and saw tears in Molly’s eyes; Arthur had taken Harry’s position of staring at the floor. Molly opened and closed her mouth several times and Harry thought vaguely, Someone should write this down; I’ve actually got Molly Weasley at a loss for words.

Instead of speaking, she wrapped Harry in a tight embrace and pulled him close to her. For once, Harry didn’t fight it, but instead held on and hugged her back. He could tell she was crying, and his own vision was quite blurred. This was how Ginny found them when she entered the hallway.

She hesitated to interrupt them - it was obvious something was going on - but the guests were getting restless. “Mum? Dad? Are we going to do Harry’s cake or what?”

Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart, and Molly whispered, “You will always be a Weasley, Harry,” as Arthur squeezed his shoulder before they re-entered the sitting room. Harry and Ginny followed behind.

“All right, Harry?”

“Yeah…I am.”

“Good, then, let’s have some cake. I don’t think Ron can wait much longer.”

As everyone was finishing up their cake - double chocolate - Molly sat down on the couch next to Remus Lupin, who was eating the last few bites of his cake while surreptitiously watching Harry and Ginny laugh over something the twins were saying. Remus leaned over to Molly and said just for her to hear, “Harry seems to finally be coming around.”

Molly watched as Harry’s eyes followed the rise of Ginny’s shirt on her waist as she leaned over to smack one of her brothers. “Yes,” she said, smiling. “Sixth year sounds about right. I remember seeing Arthur on my first day at Hogwarts; he was in his second year. I decided then and there that he was the one for me. Took him until about sixth year to see the light. Once a Weasley woman sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her!”

Remus laughed. “You’ve got to cut Harry some slack. He has no experience whatsoever with any kind of relationship. He’s learning it all from scratch.”

Molly smiled sadly. “Sometimes I really want to hex those people he lives with.”

“Me, too. I cringe when I think of how Lily must be turning over in her grave. She never had a lot of nice to things to say about her sister.”

Molly shook herself out of her morose thoughts. “He certainly seems to be enjoying himself tonight. Maybe tonight’s dreams will be a bit better.”

Remus watched Harry yet again glance at Ginny’s bare midriff. “Maybe you’re right.”
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(Melindaleo)A/N: The idea that Ginny’s shirt must be old because it’s too small and shows her belly button comes from my young son. He said that about Kim Possible one day and I thought it was hysterical. I imagine Harry isn’t any more aware of girl fashion than my son is!

Thanks to all who reviewed, I really appreciate it.

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