Harry Potter and the Pink Elephant

Pink Elephants--Freud

"Girl parts are different from boy parts," Harry announced one day in the library.

Hermione nearly dropped her quill, bun managed to hold on, an admirable feat considering. She raised an eyebrow. "And just what brought on this observation, Mr. Potter?"

Harry started and she hid a grin as he realized he had spoken aloud. Ron, on the other hand, had no such compunction about hiding his amusement.

"Er, well, that is..." Harry attempted to salvage the situation, but Hermione was sure it was beyond hope. "Neville's been having dreams," he offered.

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. Neville? Honestly, did Harry think that would work? Fine, she would humor him and play along. "Neville's been having dreams?" she asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"Yeah, you know," Ron leaned forward, grinning like a madman. "Boy dreams," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione quickly leaned back. She knew about Boy Dreams. Harr-er, Neville's or not, she didn't want to hear it. "I don't think I want to know--" she began.

"Pink elephants!" Harry interrupted, shouting.

What on earth had made him shout that? "What?"

Harry turned an interesting shade of red that Hermione felt was not at all healthy and attempted to dig himself out of the hole again. He began to relate a fascinating dream involving waltzing, miniature, pink elephants, a girl (who, given that this was clearly Harry's dream, was probably herself) who offered to solve the problem, a friend offering reassurance, tight aisles, close bonds of friendship and--oh, sorry, did Harry just say the girl kissed the elephant?

No, no, no. This could not be happening. Harry was looking at her, expecting some sort of answer, and this was all so Freudian so as to defy belief, but he was a fifteen year old boy--

Ron couldn't contain himself any longer. "Pink elephants? What the bloody hell are you--?"

"Harry, I think Neville had a penis dream," Hermione blurted out. She felt faintly horrified at what she had just said, but was thankful she managed to remember to use Neville's name. Ron seemed to be in some sort of distress but she couldn't think of that now. No, she had to come up with an explanation, preferably one that didn't involve Freud or sex. Harry was looking at her again, and he was awfully pale, wasn't he? She took a deep breath and prepared herself. No Freud, no Freud, no sex, no penis, she chanted to herself. "Well, obviously I don't think much of Divination, but I don't think that this was some sort of warning." So far, so good. "And even though a lot of Freud's theories have been discounted in the Muggle world, I think it's pretty obvious that this dream involves the penis and sex..."

Oh God, what was she saying? She wasn't supposed to be talking about this! This was supposed to be a calm discussion of a very common occurrence for teenage boys and she wasn't supposed to say penis so much! Hermione took a deep breath, continuing to speak, a detached part of her mind wondering why she was having so much trouble with words for male genitalia. Penis was the commonly accepted word, even doctors used it, maybe if she just said it some more, she could get over this silly inhibition. Penis, penis, penis. Oh dear, Harry looked even more horrified, if such a thing was possible. She tried to mix up the words, adding sex every once in a while, but Ron was still choking and Harry still looked as if he was about to faint. Maybe if she said vagina? No, no, that didn't work at all.

Hermione had to hand it to herself. She had no idea she could talk so long about Freudian (and more recent) theories on dreams and the unconscious mind. It was as if part of her mind was on auto-pilot, and it just continued on (liberally using the word penis), leaving her to ponder other matters. Specifically, the real meaning of the dream Harry had. She frowned. She had it before, she had just been thinking about it...

Oh God. Oh God. She was right, she was right, why did she have to be right when she was talking about pink elephants and aisles and it was so bloody obvious that it was a penis and a vagina and the friend who gave reassurance was probably Ron and he said it in some laughing way about how this happens to everyone and someone else was looking at it, who could that be, well, all things considered it was probably Malfoy, and oh, wasn't that just a hoot and I wonder if it means that Harry's gay, no, it can't because the elephant was walking towards me and why do I care about who Harry's attracted to and Malfoy might be gay which is a real shame because he's so pretty and oh, Merlin, I just thought Malfoy was pretty but that's doing a good job of distracting me from the fact that Harry had a pink elephant walking down my aisle because I would solve the problem and that is exactly the sort of thing I would say and I'm not thinking about this, but what else can I think about, I'm still saying penis, sex and vagina like I'm on some sort of schedule and I was doing this for him, I was doing this for Harry, and I kissed the elephant, I kissed the damn elephant, and why doesn't that scare me as much as it should and if Harry's having dreams like this, he really is boy, not just my best friend, but Ron is a boy too and I like him and I'm not sure if I would kiss his elephant and Harry is a boy and I'm not scared of him and he's having dreams about me, does this mean I have dreams about him and why do I have to think of all this when I can't STOP SAYING PENIS?

"Meep," Harry whimpered.

This unexpected noise brought Hermione up short. Finally, thankfully, she stopped talking. "What?" Harry was an alarming shade of red. Hermione looked at him, concern and worry flooding her features. "Harry, are you alright? You're all red. Are you sick?" She got up and moved over to him. If he was sick, she needed to know, needed to get him to the Hospital Wing.

Harry just looked at her as she walked around the table. Ron had gone sometime during her lecture, not that she could blame him. Now it was just Harry and her, all alone, surrounded by books...better not to think about that.

She reached over to put a hand on his forehead, and was struck by how much her Harry had grown. She could feel the muscles in his arm bunching next to her chest, built and toned by five years of Quidditch. His shoulders and chest were broader, too. Suddenly, she needed to see his face. She turned his head towards her. His eyes were grown-up, too, full of pain and loss and things no fifteen year old should know about. But she could still see a glimmer of a boy in them and that made her inexpressibly happy for some reason. "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" she asked, just to make sure.

He looked at her for a long time, emotions flashing across his face. "Penis," he finally mumbled.

Hermione leaned back, glancing down at his lap as she did so. She wasn't supposed to think about that. "What did you say?" she asked, blushing.

"Er, nothing." Harry got up and started pushing books into his bag. He looked like he was trying to get out of here in a hurry. "Listen, I've got to go because of Quidditch...stuff."

Harry was always a terrible liar. "But Harry, what about studying? We've go to prepare for the O.W.L.s!"

"I'll study for them later, I promise, but I really need to take care of this. I can't believe I forgot about it, really." He finished packing and took a deep breath. It was like he was steeling himself to talk to her. He looked up at her finally. "Tell Ron I'm sorry for abandoning him."

Abandoning him? To her? "Abandoning? Thanks for the compliment."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Not you. The library. I think it gives him hives."

She grinned at him then and he grinned back. She wished it could go on like this, just like this, with no worries, no cares, just Harry and her. And Ron, of course. Of course, what was she saying? Just the three of them.

Harry jerked his head. "I gotta go," he said almost apologetically.

And he turned, and for all the world, he looked like he was running away from her and she was glad for a moment. No more pink elephants, no more broad shoulders, no minds stuck on the word penis, no narrow aisles and no Harry.