Take Notice

Take Notice

© OnceUponACrime

Chapter One

Breeze

The sun was shining. A calm breeze tickled the sheer white curtains. It swirled around the spacious room, rustling dried flowers, old photographs, and light summer clothing hanging over chairs. It found its way to the bed and sent smooth locks of brunette hair onto a boy's face before dying on his lips. The girl lying comfortably in his arms exhaled and pushed her hair behind her ears. The phone rang.

"Damn..." the girl muttered, her voice groggy from sleep. The phone rang two more times.

"Leave us be," the boy grunted, snuggling in closer to the girl. She smiled and reluctantly pulled herself into a sitting position. He rolled over. She let the phone ring once more and then answered it.

"Hello?"

"Miss Spiro!"

"Yes?" she asked, a little uneasy. She didn't recognize the voice.

"Miss Casey Spiro! Hello! My name is Kim Kraus and I'm from the Charlotte Observer. I was at your movie premiere last night and I, along with most of the public eye I'm sure, am just dying to know," the reporter paused, presumably to breathe, "who was that beautiful young man you were seen with last night?"

Kim Kraus was talking so loud that Casey had to hold the phone away from her ear a bit. Casey bit her lip and looked at the sleeping figure next to her. For once, she was glad that the 'beautiful young man' could, and most likely would, sleep through the end of the world.

The reporter too bit her lip in anticipation. Casey Spiro had been spotted a good number of times over the summer with the same guy. His hair was black and, as the gossip magazines were saying: "ravishingly askew." He also had the most gorgeous green eyes America had ever seen. No one knew his name, age, or anything about him really, but they had fallen in love with him. After all, anyone who gains the attention of America's biggest music--and since last night, movie--sensation must be someone of great importance.

"I'm sorry, Ms Kraus, but I do not answer questions about my personal life." And with that she hung up just a little harder than she'd meant to.

"It was just a reporter..."

Casey jumped. She hadn't thought Harry had been awake. 'Did he hear the conversation?' she wondered. 'Of course he did. The woman was only screaming.'

"I know," she started. She slid back down into the bed. Harry had rolled back over to face her and his lips curled into a half-hearted smile. "But it's annoying. I don't like having people in my life, always making things up about me, making assumptions about my li-"

"I know, Casey. I know." Harry said, remembering the incident with Rita Skeeter. His insides shuddered.

"I know you know." She smiled and gave him a kiss. He tried to hide a small grimace. "What?"

"Morning breath," he stated.

She laughed softly and got out of bed to go brush her teeth. She pulled on a white silk robe that trailed behind her as she crossed to the right side of the room where the double doors to the bathroom were. It, too, was almost all white. White was her favorite color. To Casey, it symbolized purity, goodness, honesty, and strength. White would never give up. No matter what happened, white would always be there. White was also the easiest to dirty, as Harry had pointed out when she told him this. You can't hide anything from white, he'd also said. This was true, but white was also the most comforting to clean. You had to work to get everything off of it, but once you did and once you saw the purity and honesty and goodness and strength shining back at you again you felt like you had completed the world's most important task. She had told him this, and he had looked at her lips for a few moments and then told her that he should like to kiss her, as he always did when she proved him wrong.

Once she got into the bathroom she decided that she would take a quick shower as well. Her shower was made of white marble flown over from Italy and could easily shower an average sized family in one go. She turned on the hot water and let the bathroom fill with steam. She went to go open a few windows so that the steam had somewhere to go, took off her robe and the light pink t-shirt and panties she'd been wearing to bed, and stepped into the shower. As she was massaging her head with some herbal shampoo she began to sing:

L is for the way you look at me

O is for the only one I see

V is very, very extraordinary

E is even more than anyone you adore

And love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it

Take my heart and please don't break it

Love was made for me and you...

Back in the bedroom, Harry smiled to himself. He was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. The song Casey was singing was an old jazz lounge type song from a few generations back. It was the first song Casey had ever sung for him and he fell in love with it immediately. It was fun, it was uplifting, and its words had a purpose. Harry liked things that had a purpose. In fact, he believed that everything worth doing had a purpose. He wasn't much for doing things just because. He knew this annoyed Casey, who would go and stand in the rain just to make sure it was still wet, and had tried to ease up a bit. It was hard, though. In all honesty, Harry didn't really want to change. He had, to please Casey, but he would still never understand how she could live her life being so spontaneous and carefree. Harry thought her rather naïve at times. 'You think everyone except yourself is naïve!' Casey's words stung his thoughts. She had said so during one of their particularly intense fights. Harry was feeling down, as he did a lot, and had taken out some of his anger on Casey. He'd accused her of being immature and close-minded to the reality of life, or something similar to that. Harry couldn't remember what he'd said that actually started the fight, but he did remember what she'd said after that...

"FUCK YOU!" Casey exploded. Harry looked horrified.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Fuck. You." Her teeth were clenched.

"I... Uh..."

"What? Does someone else showing anger scare you, Harry Potter? Honestly! You are not the only one in the world who's ever had a problem before! You think everyone except yourself is naïve!"

"A problem?" Harry suddenly found his voice. "You think what I'm dealing with is a problem? This is no problem, Casey Spiro," he spat her name back at her, "this is my life."

She glared at him and stormed into a chair across the kitchen. She had found Harry leaning on the counter, poking his pasta around on his plate. Casey had tried to be sympathetic with him. He blew up at her, though, and she became fed up.

"A problem is running out of time to study for exams. A problem is not being able to catch the Hogwarts Express. A problem is..." Harry obviously wasn't finished. "A problem is... not this." He was going to say 'worrying about your godfather having to spend Christmas alone' but couldn't form the words.

Casey had a pretty good idea about what was running through his mind. He had abandoned his pasta and was approaching her with a menacing look in his eyes. As soon as he reached the head of the kitchen table he stopped and slumped into a chair. Casey was sitting at the other end in front of an extremely large glass window. Behind her the sun was setting over the Atlantic Ocean. Golden streaks of light danced about the table.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked meekly, a few minutes later, looking down at her hands. She knew he wouldn't. She wanted to apologize for exploding, but her pride got in the way.

"No." He looked down at his hands. He wanted to more than anything, but he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. He wanted to apologize for exploding, but his pride got in the way.

They sat there like that for at least ten minutes. Every once and a while one would get the courage to look up at the other, who would either still be looking down or staring at some abstract object in another part of the room. Fed up with being uncomfortable, Casey spoke. "I'm really glad you came to me, Harry." He opened his mouth, closed it, and walked out of the room. Casey let her head hit the table, not caring if it hurt.

That night their bed was colder than usual. The windows were closed and the curtains were shut. Everything that was once white in the room was now a steely grey or black. The only light in the room was the electric green sheen of her digital clock. It read 2:30. She sighed and lay on her back. There was no heavy breathing coming from the other side of the bed.

"Harry?"

Silence.

"Harry?"

Silence.

"Harry?"

Silence.

"Ha-"

"What?"

"I didn't know if you were sleeping."

"Why should you care? That's my problem. Not yours."

She winced, followed by more silence. Harry got out of bed. A minute later she heard the toilet flush. One of the double doors creaked open and she rolled over in bed, the light from her clock casting an odd glow on her face. She felt the bed go down a bit. Still more silence.

"Casey?"

She tried hard not to answer him.

"Casey?"

She had to bite her lip.

"Casey?"

She bit her tongue.

"I'm sorry, Casey."

She let out a deep breath.

"I-I really am. I'm sorry for exploding at you earlier. I'm sorry for just walking out of the room like that. It's just... I... I didn't want you to see me like that. And I'm sorry for snapping at you a minute ago. I really had no right to I just didn't know what else to-"

"I'm really glad you came to me, Harry."

Silence.

"I am too."

She rolled over so that she was facing him. Even though they could hardly see each other, she knew he was smiling. His left hand crept around her waist and pulled her close to him. She placed her right hand at the nape of his neck and kissed the tip of his nose, and then his cheek. He gave her little kisses from her forehead trailing down the bridge of her nose. Now it was his turn to know that she was smiling.

"I love you."

His entire body tensed.

"Wh-what'd you say?"

"I love you?"

"Why?" he asked quickly.

She let out a short, hollow laugh. "Because it's true..."

His breathing quickened. He could feel his mouth getting dry.

"Never say that again."

"What? But Harry, why?" she pulled away from him slightly.

"Just... no." he got out of bed. He slept on the couch that night.

The bathroom door opened. Casey sauntered out, her wet hair in a messy bun at the back of her head. Harry rushed past her and into the bathroom before she even had a chance to speak. She shrugged, figuring he just had to pee really bad. 'He could've used the other bathroom,' a voice nagged inside her head. 'But not while I'm in the shower, it would've made the water turn cold. He was being considerate.' She responded to herself.

After getting dressed she went over to her calendar. It was one of those that you hang against the wall and had a page for you to tear off every day. She tore July 31^st off of the wall. She felt like something was supposed to happen today, but just couldn't remember what. It was on the tip of her tongue. She almost had it... almost... it was right there... 'Isn't today-' but she was interrupted by a loud BANG on the windowpane. It had been peculiarly chilly last night and Harry had decided that they should keep the window only half open. She rushed over to the window, but didn't see anything. It sounded like something had hit the glass.

"What was that?" Harry asked, bursting out of the bathroom, holding a towel around his waist and shampoo suds still in his hair.

"I don't know!" Casey giggled at the sight of a sudsy Harry. "I was just trying to remember what was important about today, and then I heard a bang on the window. But nothing's there!"

Harry looked at the window for a moment. There were smudge marks and a couple scratches on it. A worn feather was sticking out the bottom of the pane. "Errol!" he announced.

"Huh?" Casey asked. But Harry had already run out of the room and down to the flower patio right below the window. He came back in a minute later cradling a scrappy looking owl in one hand and holding his towel in place with the other hand.

"I'm going to go wash this stuff out of my hair. Watch Errol for me." He put the owl on the bed and then went back into the bathroom.

Casey approached the bed cautiously. She had never seen an owl in real life before, let alone had one lying on her bed. It wasn't moving. She sat down on the very edge of the bed and eyed it suspiciously. It was grey, and looked oddly like a very old feather duster. Grasped firmly in its talons was an envelope made out of what looked like a very thick yellowish sort of paper. She could see a few specks of green writing on it. On top of the letter was a smaller bit of the same material the envelope was made out of, only this was almost a crème color and the ink was splotchy and black. Reaching over cautiously, she tapped the talons. Nothing. She did it again, only this time a little less gingerly. Nothing. She was going to try and pry them open, but at that moment Harry came out of the bathroom donning a pair of light grey sweatpants. Casey could see the rim of his boxers slipping out from underneath them.

"Hello Errol!" Harry said happily, sitting down in the center of the bed and pulling the owl into his lap. "What do you have for me?" The owl didn't move.

"Errol?" It still didn't move. "Hmm... must be sleeping," he thought out loud. He expertly took the two articles out of the owl's talons and leaned back against the mahogany headboard. Casey scooted over so she was sitting cross-legged next to him.

"What'd he bring you?" she asked, eyeing the letters.

"My school list," he said nonchalantly tossing the envelope down in front of him. "And a note from Ron."

"Who's-" Casey started, but was distracted by the green lettering on the envelope. It stated, in sparkling green letters, Casey's address... sort of.

Mr. H. Potter

The Penthouse Overlooking The Ocean

Spalding Avenue

Boston, Massachusetts

America

Casey was thoroughly confused. She didn't have time to ask him if he'd given their address to anyone, however, because at that moment he picked up the envelope and placed the note where the envelope was. Not being able to stop herself, Casey read it.

'Harry,

I hope you're having a good time in America! Sorry we didn't owl earlier, but mum said we shouldn't. I hope Errol can get this to you. He's been looking pretty shabby lately. We would've sent Hedwig, but Dumbledore came by to personally drop off our school letters (which, by the way, Hermione wants me to tell you is most peculiar) and took Hedwig back to Hogwarts with him. She hasn't been eating much lately. I think she misses you, Harry. Well, we all miss you, that's for sure. Hermione can't wait until summer is over. We all have so much to catch up on. See you soon!

- Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mum, and Dad.

PS: Do you have any idea why Dumbledore didn't just send you your letter directly from Hogwarts? - Hermione.

PPS: Happy Birthday!

If it was possible, Casey looked even more confused. A couple weeks after Harry had come to stay with her he had told her all about Hogwarts and Voldemort and how he was a wizard and about his late godfather, but he had never mentioned Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dumbledore, or the fact that they used owls to send mail to each other. In retrospect, maybe he hadn't told her that much at all. She read over the note again, stopping on the last line. That was it! That was what she was trying to remember! Today was Harry's birthday! But not just any birthday... it was his sixteenth birthday! Today, Harry Potter became a man. And today, Casey was going to make sure it was official.

"Sixteen."

Draco Malfoy turned to face his father, Lucius Malfoy.

"Sixteen," his father repeated. Draco didn't say anything. He set his jaw and sat down on the padded windowsill.

"Six-"

"I heard you the first time, father."

"And why do you suppose I keep on repeating it?"

"To drive me mad?" Draco smirked, but did not look at Lucius.

"Anything worth remembering bears repeating, Draco. Harry Potter is sixteen today."

"So? Would you like me to send him a gift?"

"Will it kill him?"

"Does anything?"

Lucius sneered. "Then no. I am telling you this because he is sixteen. Sixteen years he has lived, and at the rate things are going he will continue to live sixteen more years."

Draco didn't see where this was going.

"Right under your nose," his father finished.

Oh.

"It's not my fault-"

"Silence, Draco!" His father's voice grew icy. "For five years now you have known what you have to do. And for five years now you have yet to do it."

"But-"

"I said, hush!"

"I realize your task is not the easiest, or the cleanest," Lucius brushed some invisible lint off of the sleeve of his velvet black robes at this. "But it is your task. The Dark Lord has given it to you," he paused. "Now, do you really want to disappoint The Dark Lord?"

"No father." Draco continued to look out the window, but his gaze was lower to the ground now.

"Very well, then. We received your school letter today. Would you like to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes father," Draco replied, knowing it was a command disguised as a question.

"I shall inform your mother. We will talk about your task in further detail tomorrow." And with that he left the room, leaving Draco sitting alone in front of the window. If the weather were programmed to match his mood it would've been sleeting outside.