Dance With Me Harry

DANCE WITH ME HARRY

By Aerie22

CHAPTER 7

Lessons

"Harry, will you stop fidgeting. You aren't a three-year-old."

Sara, who was sitting up straight on the bleacher seat, turned toward Harry. Harry, for his part, was leaning forward, blushing furiously and looking like he wanted to curl in on himself.

At Mr. Nichol's insistence, Harry had taken up running first thing in the morning. He would jog the four blocks to the local comprehensive school and go through a series of stretches and warm-up exercises that Mr. Nichol had taught him. Then he would do a series of wind sprints across the football pitch behind the school. Finally, he would settle into a run. The first week had been torture. He was in reasonable shape, but running several series of wind sprints of 25 yards back and forth across the pitch tore at his muscles and lungs. And the follow-up run around the 400-meter track made his legs feel like they weighed a ton, like he was running underwater.

The second week, things started to get better. The muscle soreness at night had slowly vanished by the beginning of the week. And he now felt confident enough to start timing his runs. Mr. Nichol said he should aim for seven minute 'splits' on his three-mile run. By the end of the second week, he had surpassed this goal. His next goal was 18 minutes for the three miles.

Then, on Monday of his third week of training, he ran into Sara on his way to the school.

He ran into joggers and runners frequently early in the morning. There was the man in his 40s who seemed to saunter more than run. And the young rugby player in his early 20s with the look of furious concentration as he streaked down Maisley Lane toward Queen Anne Road. And the woman in her 30s who always wore a baby blue jogging suit and a matching sweatband to keep her curls out of her face. And the small thin, bearded man with glasses who ran hunched over without swinging his arms because of the small iron bars he carried to provide an additional cardiovascular stimulus.

And on the track around the football pitch, he regularly saw the couple he called the Pigeon sisters, two women who looked to be in their 30s who ran slowly with an awkward gait as they chatted amiably while making their circuits. And the elderly man who took a brisk walk around the outside of the track in the opposite direction, waving at Harry each time he passed.

But he hadn't realized that Sara was a runner. She was jogging in place on the corner of Maisley Lane as some early morning traffic passed. She turned to him in surprise and began laughing.

"You too?" she asked with a smile.

Harry nodded, smiling with pleasure. "Mr. Nichol...do you know him?"

Sara paused, then nodded.

"Mr. Nichol promised to teach me some karate if I got myself into shape. You know, discipline the mind and discipline the body. That stuff."

"I'm just trying to keep a trim figure," she said with a laugh. "Can't have Trevor come back to a lumpy Hausfrau, can I?"

Harry laughed, not quite understanding. "Where do you run?"

Sara gave a small shrug. "Just up to Queen Anne Road and down to here and back. You?"

"Over at the school track," he said.

Sara blinked. "I thought the school was off-limits for the summer."

Harry smiled. "No one's supposed to use it. But everybody does."

Sara's eyes lit up. "So let's go."

* * *

So Harry and Sara had been running together for the past four days. Sara would show up as Harry was doing his warm-ups or wind sprints and then they would jog side-by-side for as long as Sara could last, which was usually about eight circuits--two miles. She would retire to the bleachers until Harry was done. Then they would talk. And the past two days, Sara had brought articles clipped from some of her endless supply of magazines for Harry to read.

But this morning, Harry was really uncomfortable. "That article was so dumb," he complained.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Harry, I told you to stop squirming. I don't care if you think it was dumb. It's what girls like your Hermione think about."

Harry continued to blush. "But...I get the part about an unexpected compliment. You know, like saying a girl looks pretty when she doesn't expect it. But why say it when she's in a bad mood?"

Sara sighed. "Look, it's not when she's in a bad mood. It's when she looks upset, or depressed. She might be feeling blue, or it may be her time of the month...That's when she needs it the most...and will appreciate it the most."

Harry blushed even deeper and squirmed again, not being used to hearing such intimate talk, especially from a girl.

Sara reached over an gave him a gentle swat. "Come on, Harry. You aren't a child any more. Didn't anyone ever teach you the facts of life?"

Harry seemed to collapse even more into himself. "Well, my friend Dean told us about...you know. When we were in second year. At the time, it seemed...scary, sort of."

Sara leaned back against the next bench up. "Well, as long as you've been trained by experts."

Harry was close to running away. "I know the facts of life," he whined.

"Oh, I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry, still looking away, grumbled. "My cousin had a videotape. He had it labeled as an algebra tutorial, but I knew what it was. So one day, when the Dursleys went out shopping and left me locked in my room, I picked the lock and went into my cousin's room and watched it."

Sara burst out laughing. "A dirty movie? You learned what to do from a dirty movie? What was it called? Educating Harry?"

Harry was now turning colors not normally found in nature. "On Golden Blonde," he muttered.

At this point, Sara began shrieking with laughter.

Harry grabbed his towel and reached for the water bottle Tony and Mae bought him, when Sara reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back down on to the bench again. "I'm sorry, Harry" she said, her smiling face and glittering eyes showing no trace of contrition. "Now sit still and let's talk. Okay?"

Harry, still shamefaced, nodded without looking at her.

"Okay. First of all, those films have nothing to do with love. And nothing to do with your Hermione."

Harry hung his head. "I...just wasn't sure...the details, you know," he stammered.

Sara looked at him, surprised. "You mean, your friends aren't doing it?"

Harry jerked up his head and looked at Sara. "No," he said uncertainly. "I think I would have heard about it if one of my roommates had...except maybe Neville, but he isn't the most romantic...I mean, he's real quiet and...well, not very confident."

"None of the girls, either?"

Harry sighed. "Not Hermione....I don't think...I mean, she went out with this older guy and all, but I think she would have said something...maybe...I mean, we probably would be able to tell. It does kind of change you, doesn't it?"

Sara sighed. "Yes. I guess it does," she said, trying to reassure him. "And none of the other girls? The boy-crazy ones?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I think Hermione would have said something. I know one, Parvati--she's the one I took to the Yule Ball last year--she punched a guy who was a year ahead of us that she was dating when he got too fresh. Broke his nose and all. Hermione said she and Lavender, her other roommate, were up half the night doing healing charms...uhhh, soaking and wrapping Parvati's knuckles. We all got a laugh out of that."

Sara chuckled softly. "She must be a fun date."

Harry sighed. "I don't know about the older ones. They go out snogging and all, but I haven't heard anything...except maybe this one girl in our year from a different house. But she's got a bad reputation. Like she wants a rich guy. And Pansy, well, people say she's had sex with this real rich jerk whose father is...well, like a gangster or something."

Sara looked down and gave a deep sigh. "Well, maybe it's better that way at your school. I had one girl in my year get pregnant and another come down with a STD. And a lot of heartache for some others." She looked up at Harry. "Listen, if things work out between you and your girl, don't push things, okay?"

Harry looked up, puzzled and apprehensive. "What do you mean?"

Sara looked at him. "I mean don't try to have sex with her right away. I know boys are always after that, but be patient with her. Please? For her sake?"

Harry's eyes went wide. "But...I'd never...but, well...I've thought about that, but I'd never...probably not until we got married or something. I mean, I don't even know how to kiss her yet."

Sara gave an exasperated sigh. "Harry! Didn't you read that other article I gave you?"

Harry blushed furiously again. That was why he was squirming at the beginning of the conversation. It was a stupid article out of a teen magazine for girls about how to kiss. "But...that was about how girls are supposed to kiss. Not boys," he said in a panic.

Sara's exasperation grew. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know there was a different technique for when you kissed your friend Ron than when you kissed your girl Hermione."

Harry suddenly made a face. "Ewww, that's disgusting."

Sara's eyes took on a new glint. "Well, I don't see what's wrong. After all, lots of girls practice kissing on each other before going out with boys. I know I did with my best friend Nancy when we were twelve. So I don't see why boys don't do the same."

Harry was caught between a notion that made him queasy and an intriguing one. The intriguing one took precedence. "You kissed a girl?"

"Well, how else were we going to learn how?"

Harry stared in astonishment. "But...you kissed another girl."

Sara shook her head in mild annoyance. "I don't know what it is with boys. Look, we didn't know how you were supposed to kiss a boy. So we tried it out on each other. It didn't make us lesbians. You boys have such bizarre notions. But then you all seem to have your minds in the gutter," she said with a rueful chuckle.

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'd never kiss another guy. It's...like...I don't want to kiss guys. I want to kiss Hermione. And maybe hold her hand, and be her boyfriend."

"And you know all about how to kiss her, then?"

Harry looked up and shrugged. "I guess. The article said to tilt your head and, like, take her lips in your lips, like...I don't know," he said in confusion and embarrassment.

"Show me," she commanded.

Harry squirmed some more. Then he turned to her and tilted his head way over to one side and made a funny movement with his lips.

Sara closed her eyes tightly to keep from laughing. "Well, outside of looking like you just sucked on a lemon and broke your neck in the process, you're doing fine," she said with a barely suppressed giggle. "Here. You want me to teach you how to kiss?"

Harry's flush renewed itself and he looked ready to bolt again. But Sara reached out and grabbed his arm. "No, seriously. It doesn't mean anything. It will be like Nancy and I practicing when I was little. No fooling around. I'll just teach you how you should kiss your girlfriend. Okay?"

Harry looked down, beginning to feel the skin beneath his eyes sweat up, causing condensation at the bottom of the lenses of his glasses. "I...guess."

"Harry, look at me."

He looked up into her eyes. They were sparkling blue and full of humor. "I'm not trying to seduce you. I'm just trying to save you a little time and embarrassment with your girl, okay?"

Harry nodded vaguely. "Okay," he whispered.

Sara nodded as Harry watched her with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "Now I'll be Hermione. You are about to kiss her. What do you do?"

Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head a little less radically this time.

"Stop," Sara commanded. "Keep your eyes open. You want to miss her mouth?"

Harry blinked in confusion.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Here, let me show you." She gently grabbed his face in her hands and tilted it slightly to his right. "Now watch me and lean slowly forward."

Harry began to lean forward when Sara suddenly pushed him away. "Stop doing that with your mouth. Just close your mouth and relax your lips. And don't clench your jaw like that."

Harry stopped and looked down. This was getting complicated, he thought. But he tried to obey.

He found his face once again in her hands as she guided him forward. Their lips met and he could feel her lips gently grasp his upper lip. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the softness and warmth. He slowly and gently moved his lips to taken her bottom lip between his and then let go. He felt like there were fireworks going off in his brain. It was wonderful.

Sara gently disengaged to his soft moan of protest. She smiled softly at him. "That was very nice, Harry," she said quietly. "Now you want to try that again?"

Harry nodded solemnly. He took a deep breath and leaned forward again, this time without Sara guiding him. The second kiss was as sweet as the first and lasted a little longer. Finally, Sara backed off.

Sara smiled again, this time a slight flush showing on her cheeks. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it," she said with a throaty voice.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. More. He wanted more.

Sara sensed his longing and gave him a sad smile. "No more, Harry. I don't think Trevor would approve."

Harry's face fell. He had just had one of the most special experiences of his life and now he knew it was over. He turned slowly away.

Sara reached out and grasped his hand. "That's the end of the hands-on learning, Harry. But that doesn't mean the lesson is over," she said with a smile. "Tell me, does Hermione usually wear earrings?"

Sara went on for the next half hour about places girls usually liked to be kissed, about gentleness and firmness, about listening and whispers, urgency and reassurance, about everything, it seemed, including breathing, tongues and mouthwash, which made Harry blush and giggle.

"Well, at least you have the breath thing down," she said with a chuckle.

Harry joined her laughter. "Well, my aunt warned me that they weren't going to pay a fortune on dentists so I could take care of my teeth or I'd end up looking like toothless old Mrs. Taverner down the block.

When Sara had finished her lecture, she smiled at him and leaned forward to press her forehead against his. "Listen, Harry. If you're lucky, you can probably get some kissing practice in with some of the girls in the neighborhood after dances or on dates. But please promise me something."

Harry nodded, wide-eyed.

"Don't take advantage of any of these girls. Girls like Beth, or even Patty. They are at a very vulnerable age. And Beth, especially, is very sensitive. So please don't do anything to hurt her or disappoint her. Or any girl, for that matter. If you end up with Hermione, don't go flirting or fooling around with other girls. If you are dating someone, be true to them. Just don't lead them on. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry whispered.

As Sara began jogging off in one direction and Harry turned to jog back to the vicarage in the other direction, he smiled. He had a lot to think about. But most of all, now he had two kisses to remember for the summer. Hermione's and Sara's.

* * *

Harry woke with a start and grabbed his glasses and wand in a single movement. He was on his feet scanning the room for the intruder. He heard the flapping behind him and saw it.

"Pig!" he exclaimed softly, as Ron's pygmy owl flapped merrily in the moonlight streaming into his room. Harry sat down on his bed and chuckled softly. It wasn't just another Thursday. It was his birthday. He was fifteen.

"Come here, you," he said with a smile as he tried several times to snatch the tiny bird before finally snagging it like some feathered snitch. Harry's great snowy owl, Hedwig, perched regally on top of her cage, looked on with disdain at her miniature counterpart's antics. She stretched out her wings and fluttered them a couple times, resigned to the fact that her return to slumber would not be soon on this night.

Harry!

Happy Birthday!!!

I sent this early because we still don't know where you are and figured it might take a little longer to get to you than when you were in Surrey. Fred thinks you are in the Caribbean, maybe BWI, lounging on the beach and watching the Muggle girls in their bathing suits. What's a 'string bikini.' Fred won't tell me.

George, on the other hand, thinks you are in the old shack on the other side of the stream from us here at the Burrow. He keeps telling Ginny he saw you one night peeking in her window to catch her in her knickers. She keeps threatening to hex him, but George swears he now sees her glance down at the shack all the time. So if you are there, remember, no peeking. She is my sister!

I haven't heard from Hermione since she left for America. She didn't give me a schedule of where she was going to be except a bunch of Muggle cities in Canada and the States. I hope she's having fun. At least there she should be safe from You-Know-Who...and Viktor Krum, too.

I've been thinking some more about what you were saying about Hermione. I just want you to know that I kind of like her too. But if she likes you as a boyfriend, that's okay. I hope that if she likes me as a boyfriend, that's okay with you. And if she likes some other prat, then we can both hex him into the next dimension.

But like I told you last time, if she likes you, I don't want to get left out. I kind of like Lavender, you know. We've known the Browns forever. Her branch of the Brown clan comes from Devon not too far from us. I remember going to Brown clan gatherings when I was a kid. I don't think I remember her in particular, but the Brown clan are really swell and a lot of fun.

By the way, I hope you are with a wizarding family. I guess you have to be. So there should be no problem countering the shrinking charm I used on your present. In case you can't counter it and can't wait, it's Catching the Snitch by Count Alexei Wronsky, the inventor of the Wronsky Feint! It's real old and very rare. I hope you don't mind that I read it first. A lot of it is about his love life. Blllechhh. He thought he was a real lady killer. Just like Gilderoy Lockhart. But there's all sorts of good stuff on seeker techniques. He was a real pioneer. George and Fred found it for me in a second-hand shop in Hogsmeade. It was very expensive--all right, it was five sickles. But I'm sure it's worth a fortune to anyone interested in Quidditch. Be sure and bring it to Hogwarts. I may want to borrow it...again.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about your situation, moving and all. Did something happen between you and the Dursleys? If it was so dangerous to be there, why did Dumbledore send you there in the first place this summer. I hope that they are all right. But if they did something to you, let me know. I'll kill them. And then Fred and George will kill them again. Not to mention what Ginny will do to them.

By the way, Ginny really likes you. If I end up with Hermione, maybe you'd like to go out with her. I mean, I would expect you to be a gentleman and all, or we'd have to kill you. But It would be neat to have you even more part of our family.

Well, that's all for now. I think this is the longest letter I ever wrote. That shows you how boring it is here. Do you think Professor Binns would notice if I slipped this in to the middle of my summer History of Magic essay, to sort of pad it out a little?

You best mate,

Ron.

Harry lay back on his bed giggling and clutching Ron's letter to his chest. Ron was back as his best friend, even though he liked Hermione, too. He couldn't help but chuckle over Ron's matchmaking attempts with Ginny. It was pretty transparent, but nice. And Ginny was sweet. But Harry shook his head. Ginny was too young for him...suddenly Harry sat up. She was only seven or eight months younger than he was!

Harry chuckled again. Still, that was too young, he thought.

Suddenly, he heard flapping of immense wings. It was a huge great gray owl that landed with authority on Harry's window sill. He was half again bigger than Hedwig. Even she was impressed.

The owl held out his leg and Harry gingerly removed the message and a sizeable box as he gave it a treat. Pig came swooping down to steal it, but the great gray flapped its wing, knocking Pig tumbling on Harry's bed. Harry tossed Pig its own treat and opened the letter.

Dear 'Arry,

Happy Birthday.

Don't have much time, so I'll keep this short. Didn't have time to cook ya my treacle fudge, so I figgered I'd send ya this local stuff. Careful now. It's got vodka in it, or wodka as they call it 'round here. Oh, I shouldn't'a tole ya that.

Well, I hope ya have a good birthday. Tell 'em Dursleys to give ya a break. I'll see ya in a month, I hope.

Hagrid

Harry opened the brown paper wrapping an found an ornate box filled with chocolates. He bit into one and suddenly his eyes began to water. It was filled with liquid that burned on its way down. 'So this is wodka?' he thought. 'Maybe best to share it with Tony and Mae.'

There were no more owls until the next morning, so Harry slept with happy dreams.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Mae exclaimed as he came down the stairs from his shower freshly dressed for supper after a full day of mowing lawns and doing yard work in the neighborhood.

"Surprise!!!" came a chorus of voices.

Harry stared in surprise. There was Patty Rourke, Beth Simon, Pam DeMarco, Jim Jamison, Jack Tallerdy, who was another of Patty and Beth's friends, Peter Boyd, who was Mr. Nichol's nephew who was teaching Harry some karate moves, and Sara and Deirdre Simon, Sara's friend and Beth's older sister.

Harry was too stunned to react. He'd never been able to share his birthday with anyone. He thought that receiving presents by owl was as near to heaven as he could get on his birthday. Now he was surrounded by his new friends to help him enjoy his own special day.

Sara reacted first, walking over to drag him off the stairs and into the drawing room. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Come on, birthday boy. Time to open your presents."

Harry was now doubly stunned to see a small pile of wrapped gifts on the coffee table. "I...I..."

Sara gave him a gentle push into the middle of the room to general congratulations and blushing kisses from the girls.

The presents were not elaborate, or even that imaginative, consisting mostly of tee-shirts, sport shirts, a cap with a funny insignia and a couple karate training books from Peter Boyd with a promise of follow-up training. But they were treasures beyond measure to Harry.

When Tony and Mae served up a birthday cake complete with candles, he felt the tears begin to well up and ran to hug his foster parents, then ran up to his room, promising to return in a moment with an additional present to share with everyone.

He got there and took a deep breath, wiping away his tears and looking around frantically for something to bring down. He spied Hagrid's 'wodka' chocolates and gave a silent thank you. He scooped up the box and turned to see Pam DeMarco in his doorway.

"Are you okay?" she said quietly.

Harry nodded and noticed she was breathing deeply.

"I thought you looked upset all of a sudden, so I followed you when no one was looking. Patty thinks I was going to the bathroom," she whispered.

"I...I never had a birthday party before," he said shakily.

"Never?" she asked and stepped into his room.

Harry blinked uncertainly at her.

"Well, Happy Birthday, Harry," she whisepred in a now-husky voice. Suddenly she stepped up to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Harry started, then remembered Sara's lessons. He looked into her eyes and slowly leaned forward and kissed her back.

As they broke off the kiss, she looked up at him through her glasses as he looked at her through his.

"Wow," she said softly. "Wow."

Harry suddenly realized that his magical textbooks were within view. "Uhhh, I think we better get back," he said in a hoarse whisper, holding her with one arm and holding Hagrid's chocolates in his other hand. He was sure all the chocolate had melted after that kiss.

"Yeahhh, okay," she said, suddenly smiling.

As he slowly walked back down to the party, he smiled. 'The Muggle world is pretty nice,' he thought.

* * *

Dear Harry,

I hope you have a happy birthday. And I hope you are safe and happy. I got you this book, not that you need it. I can't wait to see you in a month.

Love,

Ginny

Harry chuckled. It was a small book on adolescent grooming and etiquette entitled Elegant Charms for the Charming Wizard by Lamont Baldridge.

* * *

Harry laughed even harder when he opened his message from Sirius.

Harry,

Happy Birthday, you old sod. I hear you're in hiding, just like your misbegotten canine friend. Hope your digs are better than mine. Would have sent you a nice soup bone, but my animal instincts got the better of me. So I found a copy of this. It always worked for me.

Ever faithful,

Snuffles

Harry opened the package and found another book: The Elegant Wizard's Key to Witches' Hearts by Lothario Baldridge, a much more adult, racy, and instructive, version of the book Ginny sent him.

* * *

My Dear Harry,

I hope you are enjoying your birthday. We are all so worried about you. Arthur says you are a safe as a goblin at Gringotts, but I can't help but worry. I hope you like this nice sweater I knitted for you. Maybe we will see you before the summer is over. I dearly hope so.

Hugs and Kisses,

Molly and Arthur Weasley

Harry looked at the sweater and laughed. It was Gryffindor red with a gold Quidditch player in flight knitted across the chest. He couldn't wait to wear it.

* * *

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday, partner!

Business is booming, if you know what we mean. Needless to say, your investment is paying handsome dividends. We've actually got a distributor for several of our products. The Canary Cremes are the big sellers. Same with the Sweet Tweet Toffee. Not so good for the Ton Tongue Toffees. Or for the Hair of the Dog Donuts. We figure it's the name. But we'll keep working.

We figured that you probably wouldn't go for anything to eat from us. Not that we need a guinea pig. We have Ron as our test platform. So we sent you a joke book, instead. Hope you like it.

Gred and Forge

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the two. He turned to the book. Jazzbow Jake's Jokes, Jests and Japes. He opened the book to the first page and there was a sudden flash. He blinked. His entire room, and everything in it, including him, was a bright red. He turned the page, and there was another flash. Suddenly, the room was back to it's normal color but it was snowing golden glitter. Harry began chuckling, turning the page again. Suddenly, everything was upside down. Harry closed the book and everything was back to normal. He looked carefully. There must be 200 pages in the book. He couldn't wait to try this in the dorm.

* * *

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday.

Thank you very much for inviting me to dinner with your guardians. It was fascinating to learn so much about Muggle dress and lifestyles.

Congratulations upon being made prefect. It is an awesome responsibility, but I am sure it is one you can handle with aplomb.

I have enclosed a small gift in celebration of your birthday. It may help you Re: the subject of our last meeting.

Your friend,

Percival Weasley

P/S You didn't get that book from me.

Harry looked puzzled at the package. He opened the neatly wrapped package to discover a thick textbook. Wizarding University Hornbook, Series 4--Apparation and Disapparation: Its Theory and Practice.

Harry chuckled. He would not be allowed to know about how to apparate for at least another two years. Percy was violating several wizarding regulations by giving him this. Shocking. Shocking!

* * *

Harry looked around at his gifts. This had been the best birthday...except he hadn't heard from Hermione. His face fell. Did she forget? Was she all right? He sank back onto his bed with a frown and slowly drifted off to sleep.

He was awakened near dawn by Hedwig's squawking. Harry jumped up and grabbed his glasses. He blinked several times. There were two large snowy owls engaging in what looked like a staring contest on his window sill. Hedwig was bristling her feathers and the other one followed suit.

"Hey, girl. Is that any way to greet a visitor?" Harry scolded gently.

The visitor, acting just as haughty as Hedwig at her worst, jumped off the window sill and landed on Harry's bed, holding out her leg.

Harry removed the message and a small package that obviously had been charmed. He quickly opened the message.

Harry,

Thank goodness I was finally able to find an owl! I hope I didn't miss your birthday. Happy Birthday!!!

I am such an idiot! We've been racing all over Canada, then to the States, then back to Canada, and back again. Here I thought my parents' original published schedule would hold. Then there were all these changes. But despite all this, I still expected to be in Vancouver, as scheduled, on July 30 to get your package off. I had made all the arrangements for an owl there. And so, next thing you know, we are in Calgary and I had no idea how to get your presents to you.

Fortunately, I had a guidebook and, after a few phone calls and a long a evasive conversation, was able to order an owl from a Sarcee shaman. Did you know that most of the magical community in Canada consists of First Americans? By the way, that's what they call Indians up here. Not like Parvati, but like Cowboys and Indians. Ha Ha Ha.

It really is fascinating. I've enclosed a book on Native American Magic as one of your presents. Also, that round rock is a moodstone. It's sort of like a sneak-a-scope made by an Assiniboine shaman. The darker it gets, the nearer danger is. It's not as sophisticated as our stuff, but it works.

The grass bracelet is an Ojibway Earth Drawer. It helps you draw strength and power from the Earth and all surrounding living things. It is charmed not to deteriorate and will fit snugly on any wrist. I tried it on and it felt all tingly at first, but it seemed to shrink to fit.

The pendant is a Blackfoot direction finder. If you are lost, you just chant the charm and it leads you to safety. And the bones are sort of a joke. They are MicMac Telling Bones. I got them in Montreal. They are fortune telling devices. They come with a guidebook on how to use them. They are probably as fraudulent as Professor Trelawney, but you may score some extra points in divination if you show them to her. It can't hurt, come O.W.L. time.

I hope you are safe and happy. I am having a wonderful time, seeing things I never thought I'd see and learning the most interesting things. But I think of you a lot and worry. I love traveling but I can't wait to see you all again in a month. I'll have so many stories to tell. I'm sure you will too.

Love,

Hermione

Harry took a deep breath. Kissing Sara was wonderful. Being kissed by Pam was delightful. But it was Hermione he wanted to be with.

* * *

"Think quick!"

Harry grabbed the tennis ball in mid-air and dropped it and grabbed the next, and the next. Then the ping pong balls. Then the hand balls. Then a steady stream of golf balls. Some coming directly at his, some off to the left side or the right. Then they stopped.

John Nichol sat back in the lawn chair. "Petey. You want to take over?"

Peter Boyd was John Nichol's nephew. At 17, he wasn't particularly tall, but he was lean and fit looking, with short sandy hair and an impish grin. "I don't know, Uncle John. He's got me worn out, too," he said with a laugh, surreptitiously grabbing a handful of assorted balls. He casually turned to Harry, who was panting from the workout.

"Think quick, Harry!" Peter barked and tossed three golf balls in Harry's direction. Harry grabbed two, one in each hand and managed to kick the third just before it hit the ground.

"Enough!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh, shaking the sweat out of the fringe of hair drooping in a mass over his forehead. Harry plopped down in between his two friends.

Peter chuckled. "I don't know if Master Xiou would approve. We have special drills and equipment for teaching reaction time and coordination."

Nichol laughed. "When I trained, we didn't have all that fancy equipment. But then, my teacher wasn't teaching a bunch of rich kids to show off for their friends. Most were street kids who paid in chickens or rice. I was one of the few who could afford to pay in cash. And I took my lumps for it," he said chuckling at the distant memory.

Peter did a quick eye roll at Harry, who snickered quietly.

Nichol, who caught Peter's expression, gave him a playful push, knocking him tumbling in laughter. "All right, you two. I suppose you have more important things to do than hang around with an old man like me. Get on with your fun. Langans I suppose."

Harry smiled. He had heard about Langans as the local teen hangout and was curious. Peter had promised to take him tonight and Mae and Tony had agreed that he deserved a night out provided, of course, that he stay out of the pub section of the local meeting place.

Peter promised to pick Harry up at 6:30 in his parents car. Peter, Harry found, had obtained his drivers' license several months before and took every opportunity to drive. "You sure you wouldn't rather walk?" Harry teased.

Peter looked up sharply, as if struck. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed.

The two boys suddenly laughed at Peter's reaction.

* * *

Tony Strowbridge smiled as Harry took a quick shower upstairs in preparation for a night out. When Harry was with the Dursleys, Tony had wracked his brain for an appropriate companion to be the boy's friend and sounding board. Peter Boyd was an ideal candidate except that he was a couple years older and Tony wasn't sure that the older boy would be interested.

But Peter was a bright boy who had just finished his sixth form at Drayton Academy, an exclusive public school in London. He was one of those adolescent boys given to fierce enthusiasms and had an engaging personality. But he didn't really maintain many of his local friendships in the neighborhood, and his girlfriend from school lived up in London and was given to traveling with her parents during summers. So Peter was somewhat lost, except for his karate classes. Tony and Mae were delighted when John Nichol managed to match his nephew with Harry during an impromptu backyard karate lesson.

* * *

Peter had been talking about his karate master and Harry was hanging on every word. That was one of the reasons Peter didn't mind the company of the younger boy. Harry liked to talk about his friends at school and the happenings around the neighborhood, but seemed fascinated by Peter accounts of everything from Drayton Academy--his school--to the inner workings of his father's Jaguar XJ6, which Peter was thoroughly familiar with as it seemed to be in the shop more often than on the road. Peter liked Harry because Harry was a listener. And everyone likes a listener.

But after a while, Peter began to pause thoughtfully while chewing on his fish and chips. Harry waited expectantly for the next burst of conversation that was sure to come.

Peter frowned as if in deep thought. "Ah, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Peter twisted his mouth into a fretful grimace. "Ahhh, you know Sara pretty well, right?"

Harry nodded, giving Peter a puzzled look.

Peter shifted and took another chip. Chewing it carefully and gazing off to the side, he continued: "She's still seeing that guy Trevor?"

Harry nodded, now knowingly. "But he hasn't been around all summer," he said quietly. "I guess that's why she had time to talk to me."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "She really likes him?"

Harry gave a small shrug. "I guess. Her mum thinks he's an ignorant clod, but Sara seems to like him okay."

Peter grunted in amusement. "He is, you know," he said with a small smile.

Harry shrugged again, with a smile. "I don't know him. But her mum laughed when I told them that one of my roommates has a pet toad named Trevor."

Peter chuckled. "Sounds about right to me," he said with a smile.

"You like her," Harry asked tentatively.

It was Peter's turn to shrug. "She's very pretty," he said, stifling a sigh. "And she's a lot more fun than Marianna."

"What's she like?"

Peter's face took on a wistful look. "Well, she's pretty and all. But she talks a lot. Like, she never listens. And for all she talks, I never really know what she's thinking, or feeling."

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

This time, Peter did sigh. "Well, we always would go out to this one place, 'Shorty's', all the time," he said. "It's an okay place, but I took her there because I thought she liked it. Then one day we're going there and she gets all mad, saying she hated the place and why do we always have to go there. She never said anything until she got mad at me about it. And I never cared if we went there or not. She never said anything. That sort of thing happens a lot. She doesn't say anything and then gets mad."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I guess I understand. Like Hermione I've been talking about. I sort of like her...well, I like her a lot. But I'm a little afraid to talk to her about it. We're like best friends and my other best friend Ron likes her too. But we talk all the time but never know what she's thinking about us. Does she like me? Or Ron? Or are we just pals? Or does she like one or the other and won't tell us because she's afraid of ruining her friendship with the other one? Or does she like someone else? Heck, she went to the Yule Ball with this foreign sports star and we didn't even know it until she showed up with him. For all I know, she's secretly in love with him, or some other guy, and neither Ron or I know. It's depressing."

Peter nodded in sympathy. "Well, you did say she kissed you. Maybe that means something."

Harry sighed. "Maybe..." Then he turned to Peter. "So why don't you ask Sara out? You know each other. You've been neighbors for years. What have you got to lose? If she says no, big deal. You'll still have Marianna."

Peter nodded vaguely. "I guess. And what about you? Didn't you say you and your mate had a pact? If one of you ended up with her, you'd still be friends, right?"

Harry made a face. "But I might lose Hermione as a friend. And if that happens, that might change things. Ron might get upset at me and I might lose him as a friend, as well."

Peter shook his head. "I can't help you there, mate. But I guess you're right. Nothing lost asking Sara. Maybe I will."

* * *

Harry was up on the balls of his feet, all his senses alert as the mist swirled around his feet. All he could see was a few feet in from of him, but he knew who was coming.

Voldemort.

But Harry was ready. Every muscle was taunt. His nerves were pulsating and the adrenaline was flowing. He was frightened, but ready.

'Come and get me, you filthy animal,' he screamed.

The mists parted and the hooded figure appeared, glowing red eyes the only facial feature apparent.

Harry could feel the terror rising, but this time he was prepared. He purposefully slowed his breathing and rocked on his feet, ready to spring into action.

'Time for a lesson, boy," the figure said menacingly.

The hooded figure quickly raised his wand as Harry leaped into a spinning kick.

'Crucio,' the Dark Lord cried.

Harry awoke moaning in agony and confusion. He reached for his scar but there was nothing there. Then the pain intensified as his right leg seemed to fold under him of its own accord. The pain was coming from his calf. He had a cramp.

Tony dashed into Harry's room, followed closely by Mae. "Harry, what's wrong?!" Tony cried.

Harry was breathing heavily through clenched teeth as he tried to straighten out his leg. "Cramp," he managed to utter.

Mae sat down on Harry's bed and began massaging his leg. "Tony, get a heating pad," she commanded.

Harry fought his calf muscle's impulse to contract again, knowing it would only lead to more pain. He flexed his foot, continuing to try to stretch the muscle out to work through the cramp. Slowly, under this effort and Mae's ministrations, the pain began to fade a little. Tony came in a plugged in the heating pad. The combination of the heat and the massaging finally forced the cramp to ease. But the leg still was sore. And Harry knew it would remain sore through the next day.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Mae gave him a sharp look. "Don't be silly. There's nothing to be sorry for, Harry. We thought you were in trouble."

Harry was now bending and extending his right leg, working the tortured calf muscle. "So did I."

"One of those dreams?" Tony asked softly.

Harry hung his head and shrugged. "It wasn't so bad," he muttered.

"Tell us about it," Tony said firmly.

Harry took a deep breath. It was only his third nightmare in the more than three weeks he'd been living with the Strowbridges. And it was the least intense. But waking in agony didn't help his psyche. He close his eyes and gave a brief recount of the dream.

After getting reassuring hugs from his foster parents, he stretched out in the bed, shaking his head. 'Karate is fun, but I'll have to find another way to fight Voldemort,' he thought as he drifted back to sleep.