Take Notice

Take Notice

© OnceUponACrime

Chapter Two

Firsts

"Do you think it's dead?" Harry asked, poking the owl with his index finger.

"It's not breathing, Harry. How many things do you know of that can live without breathing?" Casey asked Harry and raised a thin brown eyebrow at him.

Harry shook his head solemnly and said, "Ron's going to be so upset."

"So that's his owl?"

Harry nodded. The both sat on the bed staring at the creature and waiting for it to move. After a minute or two of this Casey sighed loudly and slid off of the bed.

"Well, I don't know about you, Mr. Potter, but I am not going to spend your sixteenth birthday sitting in bed staring at a dead owl," she said and Harry laughed. Casey spun around and gave him her 'yes, I know I'm funny, but seriously... why are you laughing?' glare. She had a gift of speaking entire sentences without ever opening her mouth.

"I forgot today was my birthday," he replied in answer to her unspoken question.

"Harry! How could you forget something like that? Sixteen is a BIG year!" she exclaimed, pretending to be mad. This made Harry laugh even harder. "Ugh!" She pouted her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry... but... your face... you... mad... impossible..." he managed to sputter out.

"It's not that funny!"

Harry just nodded and kept on laughing. In all reality, Casey was right. It wasn't that funny, but he hadn't really laughed in a long time, and all of his pent up happiness just started spilling out leaving Harry with no way to stop it. Tired of having Harry laugh at her, Casey tackled him so that he was now lying on his back and in the next moment her tongue had forced itself into his mouth.

Well, there's one way to solve the problem.

Harry lifted his hands to Casey's shoulder length, light brown hair and entangled his fingers in it, pushing her head down and deepening the kiss all at the same time. Her hair was so rich and thick, yet managed to look smooth and sleek all at once. This confused Harry in a way he really didn't mind. Casey went to move into a more comfortable position but as she did her foot slipped on the smooth sheets and she kicked the owl to the ground.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed, pulling away from Harry immediately.

"What? What?" he asked, furrowing his brows and looking down at his sweatpants. He sighed in relief. Everything was still in order. 'Wouldn't that have been embarrassing?' He smiled to himself. 'She might not mind...'

"My foot! My foot! My foot touched... it!" she squealed, pointing to where the owl had fallen off of the bed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's only a dead owl, Quesadilla," he said, using his favorite nickname for her. She looked at him, eyes wide in utter horror.

"It might have germs!" she whispered frantically.

"Everything has germs."

Casey looked around the room, eyes searching for a good answer. "... Nuh uh!"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are very suave?" Harry smirked.

"Never. But they have told me that I am very hungry, which I am. Let's eat!"

Harry chuckled at her liveliness. "Alright. What do you want?"

"Oh no you don't, mister," she said. "It's your birthday. What do you want?"

"A couple of bacon sandwiches would be nice."

"Harry Potter. It is your birthday and all you want for breakfast are bacon sandwiches? I don't think so." She paused. "Now what do you really want?"

"Hmm..." he stroked his chin with his left hand. A few hairs were threatening to break through the skin. "Four blueberry pancakes, a Denver style omelet, scrambled eggs with bits of sausage in them, two chocolate chip waffles, fried potatoes, a couple pieces of French toast, and a few bacon sandwiches."

Casey gaped at him. "Would you like a new pant size with that as well?"

"Hey! Maybe Dudley's clothes would finally fit properly," he said, winking at her. Casey sighed.

"Well, I'd better get going on that then-"

"Wait!"

"What?"

"You... you're cooking?" Harry gulped. The last time Casey had tried to cook for him had been about a month ago. She had surprised him with what should have been blackened Peking Duck on a bed of Jasmine rice sprinkled in cheese and served with fresh spring rolls on the side. When he actually got his meal the bird was more blackened than it was duck, the rice was either chewy or hard (Harry still couldn't decide), the cheese was most likely the sharpest kind ever made, and Harry never actually even saw the spring rolls. It was the worst meal he'd ever forced himself to eat.

"Good God, no!" Casey exclaimed. "When I said 'I'd better get going on that then' I obviously meant 'I'd better get going on telling the cook to get going on that then'." Harry exhaled, loudly, and couldn't help but hide his obviously relieved smile.

Half an hour later Casey and Harry sat on the back porch of Casey's ocean front penthouse. They were finishing up the last of the bacon sandwiches together while talking randomly about the people on the beach below.

"What do you think about her?" Casey asked, pointing casually to a very tanned blonde in a barely-there red bikini.

"Eh."

"Eh?" Casey turned right in her white-pillowed patio chair in order to face him. "Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Positive." He placed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. "She's not my type. She's too... showy. She looks like the kind of girl who knows she's hot on the outside, but who's really insecure on the inside," like Cho, he added inwardly. "I'll bet she feels like she always has to put up a front, live up to standards, that sort of thing," not that I wouldn't know what that was like, he concluded to himself. He finished chewing his sandwich, swallowed, and took a drink of ice water. "I'd never know what to say around a girl like that, so I'd probably just end up either avoiding her or being mean to her." They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the cool summer breeze play with their clothes and hair.

"What about those two?" Harry asked, pointing to an African American couple walking slowly along the waterfront. The tide was licking their ankles and they were holding hands. The man whispered something to the woman. She threw her head back and laughed. Harry caught his breath. It was a very soulful laugh. A part of him wished Casey would laugh like that. 'But her giggle is very cute.' He assured himself.

"What about them?"

"Do you think they're in love?"

"Sure?"

"Casey... c'mon. I'm being serious."

"Okay... yes."

"How come?"

"I don't know. They look happy."

"So looking happy constitutes being in love?"

"Sure."

"Well, I look happy," he started. "But I'm not in love with you."

Casey looked at Harry as if he had just tried to kill her.

"Wh-hat?" was all she could manage to squeak out. Harry could see the tears bulging in the corner of her eyes.

"Oh shit. Shit, Casey. Damn, I didn't mean it like that," he cursed.

"How the hell did you mean it then?" she shrieked, letting the tears free.

"I-um-I-well-uh-" he mumbled quickly. 'How DID you mean it, Harry?' That stupid voice was back again.

She glared at him and then ran inside, her shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"DAMMIT!" Harry yelled, throwing his glass down onto the beach below. Tears were forming in his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously.

A thundercloud rumbled somewhere in close proximity. The lifeguard blew his whistle. Everyone was to get off of the beach.

~*~

There were chickens in the front yard. There were also lawn gnomes, but to Ronald Weasley, the chickens were much more interesting. They clucked, they strutted, and they smelled something awful. They laid eggs for breakfast and cakes, they were plucked to re-stuff worn pillows, and once they were just right they'd be slaughtered and cooked into a potpie. Yet they flapped around the front yard completely oblivious to the fact that they only lived to be eaten.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm?" Ron murmered.

"I asked," Hermione Granger said, looking up from her parchment, "what were you thinking about?"

"Oh. Chickens," Ron said.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him, and said: "You've been staring out that window for a good half hour thinking about... chickens?"

"Do you think they think they can fly?"

"Of course not," she answered as she placed her quill down on the sturdy wooden table. "Everyone knows chickens can't fly."

"Well sure, we know that," he said as he looked at her, and then continued: "but do you think they know that?"

Hermione just stared at him.

"I mean, why else would they flap around like that?" Ron asked, his eyes going back to a pair of white hens chasing each other around, squawking loudly and flapping their wings as if their lives depended on it.

Hermione shook her head and went back to her work. "They're only chickens, Ron. They obviously don't care, so neither should you." Aside from a somewhat annoyed sigh, the kitchen was silent for what seemed like forever.

"I miss Harry," Ron mused.

"We both do," Hermione said, a little half-heartedly, not looking up from her book and parchment. Ron tried to hide his anger, but failed considerably.

"Oh, would you just lay off it for a second?" he asked, exasperated. Finally, she looked up, trying to disguise her shock. "You've been here for a whole week and all you've done is read and write owls to your parents and work on that stupid... whatever it is you're working on."

Hermione couldn't think of anything to say, so she looked down at her quill. Ron continued. "I mean, I invited you over to stay with me until the term starts because we never see each other outside of school. I wanted to show you that I can be a much different person when I'm not sha-" he stopped himself, "when I'm not in school."

Hermione had the strangest feeling he meant to say: 'when I'm not shadowed by Harry.' but she kept her mouth shut. "You're right Ron."

"And another thing--huh? I am?" Ron asked in amazement. "Wicked." He smiled proudly. She laughed softly.

"You're right, Ron," Hermione elaborated. "It was very considerate of you to invite me here, and I've done nothing but study and seclude myself. It's just that I don't have any brothers and sisters at home, and my parents work, so this is what I do when I'm at home. I get into a book and I'm alone in the house so the book just sort of... amplifies it. You see?"

"Yes," he lied.

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not one," he said, smiling. Both of their cheeks flushed a tiny bit.

"I'm tired of studying," she said, suddenly closing her parchment inside her book and placing her quill on top of it. Ron's eyes went wide.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Never thought I'd see the day," she heard him mutter under his breath. She smiled to herself. Most people at Hogwarts thought she was nothing but a bossy know-it-all. She was bossy and she was a know it all, but she wasn't completely oblivious. She knew when she was being bossy, she knew when she corrected someone and it got on their nerves, she knew all of these things and more. It was part of her personality, though, and Ron and Harry had been the only two people who could ever see past that part. Ginny was catching up to them, but Hermione secretly hoped the only Weasley girl would never fully catch up. She enjoyed her camaraderie with her best friends.

When Ron sent her the owl asking her to come visit, she had hardly given her decision to join him a second thought. Just the thought of being alone with Ron, without Harry, intrigued her in deeper way that she couldn't quite put into words. She knew Ron was different without Harry there. It wasn't a drastic difference, but if you cared to look close enough, you could write volumes on that subject alone. So when that owl came, she took this as her once in a lifetime opportunity and packed her bags. Now she'd been there almost a week and her cold feet had pushed her into the comfort zone that was her studies. Guilt overcame her.

"So, what are some of Ron Weasley's favorite places?" Hermione asked, wanting to move on to a more pleasant topic.

Ron's smiling eyes met hers. "Well, there's this spot over the hill in the backyard. It's really nice there. I always go there to think. I bet my brothers are up there now, though. I heard them saying something about new merchandise testing, and that's the only place they can really go where mum won't let loose on them."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron's twin older brothers--Fred and George--were taking a one week holiday from their company, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They'd left Hogwarts in the middle of last year, made quite a show of it actually, and used the money Harry had won from the Triwizard Tournament to start up their joke shop. Even though she strongly despised practical jokes, the twins were happier than ever, which is to say a lot seeing as Hermione could only name a small handful of times when they were sad. Even when the entire school thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin back in their second year the two laughed and led Harry through the school taking jabs at him. Harry. 'Bugger. Why do my thoughts always go back to Harry? I'm here to see Ron.' She admonished herself.

Suddenly Ron stood up and slammed his palms down on top of the back of Hermione's hands, though it wasn't nearly as violent as it sounds. "I've got the perfect place!"

~*~

Draco Malfoy walked out of Knockturn Alley. He walked, lost in thought, and eventually sighed haughtily as he sat down on the topmost step leading into Gringotts. He rested his pointy chin in his right hand and propped his elbow up on his right knee.

"Why so glum?" a female voice called from behind. Draco recognized it immediately: Pansy Parkinson.

"Why so ugly?"

She laughed and sat down next to Draco. He didn't know why she was so happy; he was serious.

"Not excited to go back to Hogwarts?"

"I was quite enjoying my Potter-free summer, thank you very much," Draco sneered, rolling his eyes. He would put up with Pansy at school, he'd even found her likeable once or twice. Conversing with her outside of school, however, was completely unnecessary.

"Speaking of Harry Potter," Pansy said in a hushed tone and turned her body so she was now facing Draco. "Guess what I heard?"

He tripped over his big, beautiful head and fell off the London Bridge... and into my arms? Anticipation coursed through Draco's veins.

"What?" he asked smoothly, hiding his excitement.

"He's in America. He's been there all summer."

Draco was disappointed, but intrigued at the same time. It was a strange feeling. "Why? And where did you hear that?"

"I overheard Cho Chang talking about it. She sounded really miffed," Pansy said with a sadistic grin. She'd never really liked Cho Chang and enjoyed pulling a little bit of that shiny black hair out every chance she got.

Draco rolled his eyes again. Pansy had completely ignored his first question. He did not like to be ignored. "Since when do Slytherins go anywhere near Ravenclaws?"

Pansy gave Draco a look that he couldn't read and then, smirking, said, "Since they started talking about your favorite subject."

Draco paled and then immediately flushed. He found himself incredibly interested in the side of the world not facing Pansy and her all-knowing look.

~*~

Hermione picked the last petal off of her purple daisy. 'He loves me not.' She sighed dejectedly and started on a bright red one. The daisies grew in every color imaginable around the tiny pond where Ron had taken her. The entire waterfront was brimming with daisies of every color which wer encompassed by long, soft grass and the birch tree that Ron and Hermione were now leaning against. All of this was surrounded by pussy willows and large, white, feathery plants neither Ron nor Hermione could identify.

"Isn't this nice?" Ron asked, watching a mother duck teach her babies how to dive under the water for food.

"Mmm."

'He loves me.'

"I always come here when I want to be alone. I've actually never shared this place with anyone before you." He paused. "I promised myself I wouldn't tell anyone about it, ever, not even my future wife or children. But, I dunno Hermione, when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm here with someone else. I feel like I'm still alone."

She pulled out two red petals at one time. 'He loves me. He loves me not.'

"I mean that in a good way, of course." Ron added as an afterthought.

'He loves me.'

"Of course," she replied absentmindedly, a smile on her face.

"Hey Hermione?"

"Hey Ron?"

"Yeah?"

Hermione giggled. "Nothing Ron, I was just... never mind." She rolled her eyes playfully. Since they were leaning against opposite sides of the white-trunked tree, Ron didn't see her.

"Oh... okay... hey Herm?"

"Yes?"

"I was just thinking..."

"Yes..."

"Well... erm..."

Hermione turned around so that she was now kneeling on the soft grass. Ron mimicked her.

"What is it, Ron?" Her weight was on her hands. Ron followed suit.

"It's just-"

"Yes?" Hermione's eyes grew wide, she bit her lip. It's now or never, she thought with a somewhat wavering confidence.

Ron took a deep breath. Then, at the same time, both him and Hermione leaned in, each expecting to take the lead.

"Ow!" They said in unison. Having closed their eyes, they'd bumped noses.

Ron leaned back, his right hand holding his upper body up while his left rubbed his freckled nose. He cursed inwardly. That was definitely not how he'd wanted this to work out. Absolutely positive that the moment was ruined, he opened his eyes, expecting to see Hermione staring at him-mouth wide with horror-with a look of absolute disgust all over her unique features. What he saw, though, was a pair of big brown eyes staring intently at him. Hermione's eyes weren't actually all that big, but their faces were so close that they became all he could see before--

Ron Weasley was in heaven.

~*~

Harry Potter was in hell. The wind was hurtling sheets of rain against the locked windows. He hadn't seen or heard from Casey once since she'd stormed off on him.

"How could you be so thick?" Harry asked himself aloud.

"It's not so hard."

Harry jumped. He spun around from his seat on the large, overstuffed white leather couch he was slumped on. Casey's personal assistant, Niki Allem, was standing under the archway that connected the kitchen to the main room. Her blonde hair was matted against her body and the tips were leaving wet spots on the front of her light t-shirt, making her bra clearly visible. Niki was holding a sopping wet umbrella in her left hand and had a particularly annoyed look on her face. Harry couldn't decide if it was because she was drenched, or because of him, or maybe a little bit of both.

"Sorry to scare you," she apologized half-heartedly, "but my damn car wouldn't start. I was just across the street and didn't feel like getting soaked trying to fight the rain for five blocks just to climb about 20 fucking flights of stairs--yeah, the elevator is fucking broke down again, the piece of shit--" she ranted, her Boston accent and attitude resonating very clearly. She looked down at her sopping self, gave an ironic sort of laugh, dropped the umbrella in the middle of the floor, and walked into Casey's bedroom, pulling her shirt off as she walked. Harry shook his head in a weird sort of amusement and then went back to staring vacantly at whatever channel he had been too lazy to change.

"Today in Entertainment!" A very bubbly Oriental girl chirped at him, "Today, the megastar Casey Spiro was spotted for the first time this summer without her boy toy--who remains nameless."

Harry snorted. He certainly felt like Casey's boy toy. 'So what if I don't love her? I mean, I'm obviously attracted to her. It's not like I told her I think she's ugly and smells like cheese or anything. I mean... I don't think I love her. How could I? I don't even know what it feels like to be in love. I've heard it's supposed to feel like a bang or something, and sure, Casey makes me feel very happy and safe, but... no bang...'

"So where's The Little Princess?" Niki interrupted Harry's private monologue. Niki, at twenty-five, was considerably older than Casey, who was just seventeen a month ago. Of course, this made Niki a full nine years older than Harry, which made him feel--at best--like a naïve and inexperienced little boy.

"Dunno."

Niki snorted and flopped down next to Harry. She had put on one of Casey's white American Eagle sweatshirts and had taken off her heavy jeans. A pair of royal blue cheerleading shorts took their place. Harry couldn't help but glance more than once at her teasingly long and unnaturally tan legs. Niki wasn't exactly pretty (her teeth were yellowed from smoking, which was also starting to prematurely wrinkle her skin), but damn; the woman had great legs.

"Why'd she leave?" she asked, stealing the remote and changing the channels, stopping on MTV.

"Dunno." Harry lied.

"Do you know anything?"

Harry shrugged and stared at the TV. Real World was on. In this particular episode The Maybe Virgin and The Pretty Boy snuck off and got drunk and ended up kissing, thinking they'd lost the camera crew. Harry wished that he were The Pretty Boy right then; he'd developed quite a crush on The Supposedly Virginal cast member. It seemed to be a habit he'd formed over the past year--falling for the innocent types. Cho Chang, his first real crush and kiss, seemed like a complete sweetheart... until you actually talked to her, that is. Harry could only blame her rollercoaster emotions on the loss of Cedric for so long. Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that she was just a mental case. After Cho came Casey. To Harry, Casey Spiro was the personification of sugar, spice, and everything nice. He really hadn't had any more crushes on girls he actually knew, but almost every sweet girl he saw on TV or in a magazine made his heart twinge.

"When'd she leave?" Niki asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"This morning."

Niki's eyes went wide and she exhaled a large cloud of smoke right into Harry's face. He screwed up his eyes and tried not to breathe it in.

"Harry... it's almost eight o' clock. She's probably been gone almost twelve hours, then?" Harry nodded, still watching Real World. "Damnit. That is not going to reflect well on me." Niki continued to curse under her breath. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Why do you work for her?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you work for Casey? It's obvious you don't like her. You're just lucky she's too naïve to realize it."

Niki gave him a scrutinizing look. "Money is money.&rdqo; A pause. "Has anyone ever told you that you're way too perceptive for a sixteen year old?"

"Aww, you remembered my birthday." Harry said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Niki snorted again. "It's kind of hard for me not to. It was all Casey ever fucking talked about for the past month."

'And you ruined it.' Harry really wished that voice would go away.

The smoke from Niki's cigarette was drying out Harry's throat. As he walked into the kitchen he thought he heard the sound of a key fiddling in the lock, which was located almost immediately to the right of the large, wood paneled fridge. Regarding the sound as nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, Harry reached into the fridge, got a bottle of water, opened it, took a few hearty chugs, and then closed the door again.

The water bottle hit the floor. Water was streaming everywhere.

"Casey." Harry whispered hoarsely. Sure enough, right in front of his very eyes, stood a chilled to the bone, blue lipped, Casey. Her clothes stuck to her in ways they shouldn't have, her hair was nothing more than a natty mess, and mascara was streaming down her face.

"I-" But she didn't have a chance to finish. Harry had enveloped her, pulling her as close to him as was humanly possible. His lips encased hers, not initially out of lust, but as a clever method of warming hers up again. She shivered, and Harry started to run his hands up and down her sides, arms, and back. They continued there for a good fifteen minutes, neither noticing--or caring--when Niki picked up her umbrella, gathered up her wet clothes, and left.

"Harry," Casey panted, finally having the strength to pull away from him. "About earlier--"

"No," he said between soft kisses. "We... are not... going... to talk... about... that... ever..." he was kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks, now just her bottom lip, and then only the right corner of her mouth. Casey found this very stimulating, and Harry knew it.

"But--"

"I said no." He pulled away from her and looked straight into her eyes. She nodded. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her forehead against his.

"I'm going to go take a bath."

"I'm coming with you." He kissed her with feeling. She smiled against his lips.

"You've got mascara on your face." She giggled softly, reaching up to wipe the smear off of his cheekbone. He stopped her hand by lacing his fingers with hers.

"Leave it." She nodded, unable to stop looking into his eyes.

"Uhn..." Casey moaned, arching her neck. Harry was hovering over her, kissing her neck as if it was the most important thing in the world. After making sure he'd leave a few nice marks on both sides of her neck in the morning he moved down to her collarbone. His fingertips were walking in circles around her navel, occasionally taking a holiday a little south of the border. Casey squirmed underneath him causing water and bubble bath to traipse over the side of the large marble tub and onto the floor. "Harry... Harry..."

"Mmm?"

"Oh god... Harry... I..."

Harry looked up at her, she couldn't possibly be... no, she couldn't be. He hadn't even really done anything yet.

"Harry... I... I'm getting really wrinkly," she said. They stared at each other for a second, neither of them really sure that she'd actually just said that. Then they both started laughing. Their laughter was simultaneous and husky and full of lusting for more.

"Let's get you dry, then," Harry said, pulling a towel around his waist as he stood up in the tub. She stood up too, not bothering to cover her naked, wet, and a little soapy body. She whispered into his ear, giving it a little tug with her teeth and running her hands up the sides of his legs

"I'd rather be wet," she almost-purred, grinning lasciviously.

Harry's mouth went dry. He'd never heard her sound like that before. She sounded like a woman, and Harry had to fight to keep himself from tackling her right then and there.

Casey smirked seductively. Her fingers were walking in circles all around Harry's hipbone, just like he was doing to her navel before they stood up.

It wasn't until a couple moments later that Harry Potter realized he was standing, completely naked, in a bathtub with a wonderfully nude Casey Spiro. He looked down. His towel was slowly becoming filled with water. It sank to the bottom of the tub. As if by some sort of miracle, Casey's body was now pressed fully against his, her fingers dancing in the hair at the nape of his neck (which always got curly when wet). Suddenly, her body was leading his towards the bed, both of them leaving wet footprints in the plush carpet.

Something inside Harry's mind snapped back into place. He was suddenly very aware of every inch of her body and how each individual section was interacting with his. He lifted her onto the bed and then crawled under the covers. Somehow he was still cold. She followed and resumed her place underneath him.

"Now where was I?" Harry breathed slowly onto the hollow of her neck, his fingers teasing her body. Casey lifted his head up to hers, kissed him enthusiastically and then flipped him over so that he was lying on his back. Normally, she wouldn't have been able to do that, but his body was feeling unnaturally pliable at the moment. She kissed him again, but instead of pulling away from the kiss she licked his bottom lip and then licked a straight line all the way down to his navel. It was an unusual feeling, being licked, but Harry was definitely not opposed to it. His body had decided to let Casey know that, too. She moaned, just for effect, and then took him in her mouth.

Harry grunted and arched his back. His mind was racing, and even though Casey had done this to him quite a few times before, something about tonight made it feel like the first time all over again. She worked her magic for a while longer, and then life as Harry knew it ceased to exist. It was a wonderful feeling, and it was one he fully intended on sharing. Casey was kissing his mouth again, and when he let his tongue into her hot mouth he could vaguely taste himself.

Feeling a shock of confidence, he rolled her over and hovered over her, much like he had done in the tub. He balanced himself on his elbows--one on each side of her body, and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze. Her confidence scared him and he started to doubt himself. They stared at each other, not moving, not kissing, not anything, until finally Casey wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and whispered.

"I'm ready."

"I-I've never done this before..." Harry trailed off, feeling very young all of the sudden.

"Me neither."

For some reason, Harry was shocked. He didn't let it show, though, having enough wits to know that that would definitely put a damper on the mood.

"Okay." He said rather stupidly. His heart was beating in his ears. Wanting desperately to drown it out, he kissed Casey aggressively. She kissed back, obviously feeling the same way. Casey hooked her legs around Harry's back and with his mind focusing on the kiss, his body took over.

~*~

"Harry... Harry!"

Feeling the need to grasp onto something that she couldn't make bleed, Casey flung her right hand out and clenched the side of the bed; not without hitting her hand on her radio, however. It blared into the room, mid-song, and gave their awkward and fumbling climax a soundtrack.

Hands down, this is the best day I can ever

Remember, always remember, the sound of the

Stereo, the dim of the soft lights, the scent of your

Hair that you twirled in your fingers, and the time

On the clock, when we realized it's

So late, and this walk that we shared together.

The streets were wet, and the gate was locked,

So I jumped it, and I let you in.

And you stood at your door, with your hands on

My waist, and you kissed me like you meant it,

And I knew that you meant it.

"Hands Down" - Dashboard Confessional