Take Notice

Take Notice

© OnceUponACrime

Chapter Three

Explanations

It was a particularly chilly August day at the Burrow. Ron picked up a long piece of grass from the lawn of his (and more recently Hermione's) secret spot and chewed on it thoughtfully. Hermione picked a white daisy, put it behind her left ear, and then laid her head down on Ron's chest. He smiled and ran his fingers through her frizzy curls.

"I like that you have thick hair," he thought out-loud.

"Why's that?" Hermione chuckled.

"It keeps my fingers warm."

"I see," she said, placing her own fingers in her sweatshirt pocket. "It's rather cold today, isn't it?"

"D'you know, I was just thinking that. I hope it warms up by tomorrow. I want to play some Quidditch with Harry."

Hermione's eyes widened and she said, "He comes home tomorrow? I'd completely forgotten." She blushed.

"Mum sure didn't," Ron mused, rolling his eyes. "She's been running all over the place charming things clean and cooking enough food to feed the entire Order. I had to clean my room at least six times before dinner." There was a pause. "Of course, I'm sure you noticed," Ron added.

"Mmm, nope," Hermione said, shaking her head softly. "I was reading."

"Surprise, surprise."

Hermione let out a small laugh and then reached up and took one of Ron's hands in her own. His freckled fingers instinctively laced through her petite ones.

"This has been a really wonderful three weeks, Ron," Hermione said, wiggling her fingers absentmindedly.

"For once, I agree with you." Ron smirked and then sighed. "It'll be great to see Harry again, though. I'm sure he has tons of stories to tell us."

"Oh yes, I'm sure of it," Hermione agreed.

There was a thoughtful silence in which both of them were thinking the same thing but neither had to courage to actually say it: The past few weeks that they had been alone had been so wonderful that they weren't entirely sure they wanted Harry back just yet.

~*~

Harry grunted and sat on top of his trunk. The lid barely closed and Harry had to push all of his bodyweight downward to keep the lid from opening up and sending him flying.

"Okay, try it now," he said through gritted teeth. Casey put down her magazine and struggled with the clasps on either side of Harry's legs.

"I think... I... have it!" She exclaimed, standing back and clapping her hands in excitement. The two had spent the last twenty minutes arranging and rearranging Harry's things in his trunk so that it would close properly.

Harry relaxed and sighed in relief. No more than two seconds later the trunk gave a large groan and Harry found himself being flipped backwards onto the bed and was sent rolling onto the floor with an 'UMPH!' Casey was on the floor, too, except she was rolling in hysterical giggles.

"I don't think it's going to cooperate," Harry said slowly, rubbing his head as he stood up. "I wouldn't blame it, though. You really didn't need to buy me all this stuff." He motioned to the trunk with his other hand. The large box was filled to the brim with recently bought clothes and shoes and various other items Casey had insisted that Harry couldn't possibly live without.

"But you look so handsome in them," Casey cooed, getting up and walking over to Harry. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him three times. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that they wore robes at school and no one would see any of the new things she bought for him except the shoes. Of course, he was also somewhat preoccupied at the moment.

An hour later and the two of them were lying in bed together, their clothes (and the open trunk) lying forgotten on the floor. Casey's head was resting in the crook of his right arm and his hand was massaging the small of her back.

"Was it good for you?" Casey yawned and snuggled in closer, absorbing Harry's body heat. He nodded and yawned too as he closed his arms around her naked body.

They'd had sex a few more times since his birthday and each time they had gotten better and better at it. The first time had been awkward and fumbling and they'd forgotten to use protection. Casey helped put Harry's mind at ease the next morning by going on the pill. Still, Harry had gone out that afternoon and bought a box of condoms. It was somewhat embarrassing--the woman at the checkout counter was extremely old and kept muttering about "the youth of today" and "no morals" under her breath--but after realizing their mistake the first time Harry wanted to take every precaution to make sure he wouldn't be called 'Daddy!' before he graduated. Besides, he wouldn't be seeing Casey for a very long time (if ever again) once he left for England and he didn't even want to imagine the guilt he'd feel if he got a girl thousands of miles away pregnant.

"I don't want you to go," Casey whispered into Harry's neck. "I love you and I don't want you to leave me... ever."

Silence.

"Harry?" Casey opened her eyes and looked up at his face.

He was asleep.

~*~

Harry flinched--and hoped it went unnoticed--when he felt a hot tear hit his shoulder blade. He made like he was muttering in his sleep and rolled over so that his back was now facing Casey and continued to pretend he was sleeping. He hadn't really been asleep when Casey told him that she loved him. He wasn't asleep when she looked up just seconds after he'd hastily closed his eyes, and he certainly wasn't asleep when she started crying on him.

He'd only been pretending. It was something he'd become very good at over the summer.

When he first met Casey she had bugged him to no end. She was too happy for her own good, Harry thought. Casey had had life handed to her on a silver platter. She didn't know what it was like to be thought of as something vile, to be locked away and sneered at, to be constantly picked out from the crowd just because of who you were.

Harry sighed and screwed his eyes shut even further. She does know, he told himself. And that was what had made him grow to accept Casey. After writing several very angry and lengthy letters to Dumbledore asking why the old man had chosen her for him to stay with all summer, and after realizing that he had no way of getting them to Dumbledore, and after watching them burn in the fireplace with a malicious grin on his face (which he duplicated once while looking in the mirror and then decided that maybe he really should've been put into Slytherin), and after having a few good, private cries he'd decided that maybe... just maybe, he could pretend to like Casey.

So he did. The next day--it'd been a week since he'd arrived shaken and confused on her doorstep--he made the first move. He said "Hello. Wonderful morning, isn't it?" over his bacon and eggs. She looked so shocked that Harry couldn't help himself; he laughed. And I suppose the rest is history, Harry thought, looking at the shadow of his pants lying on the floor and suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

~*~

Albus Dumbledore was not the kind of man that one might normally find in an airport, but there he was, waiting patiently in line behind a woman with five vehemently excited toddlers. He held quite a few bags of lemon drops in one hand and a large, black, leather bound book in the other. The blonde woman attempted to herd her children over to the food court only to find herself tripping over her smallest son and dropping all the sweets she held in her arms. Her children all started crying and screaming over the ruined treats.

"Will that be all, sir?" The Latina woman behind the counter asked politely. Albus eyed the fallen woman and his eyes sparkled with pity behind his half-moon glasses.

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off of the blonde. She was pulling herself up hastily and trying to regain control of her children. They were starting to attract a crowd.

The Latina put his candy and the book in a plastic bag and took the American money Albus had gotten in exchange for a large pile of galleons. She gave him his change and said, "Next!"

"Excuse me," Albus said softly, crossing over the tired mother and placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and glared wildly at him.

"Yeah? What'd you want? Huh?" She exclaimed.

Albus smiled and took the black leather book out of the bag. He then handed the rest of its contents to the woman. She looked at him warily and then snatched it from him. Immediately all her kids ran up and started pulling on her arms so they could see what was in the bag.

"Candy!"

"Lemon drops!"

"Mmm!"

All five of the children were squealing in delight and pulling out bags of lemon drops. There were just enough so that each could have their own bag and there was still one left. The woman picked the small bag up gingerly and looked at it for a minute. Albus chuckled at the children's antics. The crowd of travelers that had gathered around the noisy bunch had dispersed.

"I... thank you," she said, smiling in astonishment and running a hand over the top of her dried out hair.

"You're welcome," Albus returned with a smile, gently pulling the smallest of the children off of the tip of his beard and turning around to walk away.

He didn't get very far, though. Standing only a few feet behind him was a dark-haired boy with a large trunk and a girl in sunglasses and a baseball hat clinging to his arm. The boy stared at him for a few minutes as if trying to decide how, or if, he should approach him.

"G-grandpa?" he finally spoke, shooting a nervous glance at the girl on his left arm.

Albus chortled and crossed the small distance between them, pulling Harry into a big hug. Harry took this opportunity to whisper: "What're you doing here?" into his ear. Albus ignored the question, sort of.

"Hello, Harry. I'm here to take my favorite grandson back to England with me. Oh, and to stock up on lemon drops... though it seems other people need them more than I do."

"That was very nice of you," the girl spoke softly and even though Albus couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses he had a good feeling she was eyeing him curiously.

"Thank you, Miss Spiro."

She looked shocked. "I--but--how do you know my name?" She whispered the last part. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to people she'd never met before knowing her, that was part of being famous and all, but this man really didn't look like he fit into her stereotypical fan base. No, no, this tall, excessively bearded man was definitely not a girl or boy between the ages of twelve and sixteen.

"Harry has told me about you," Albus responded, casting Harry an almost indistinguishable glance that told the young wizard to play along.

"Oh, er, yes... you know, letters and things," Harry smiled almost apologetically at Casey and grabbed her hand. She smiled and seemed to forget the strangeness of the situation for the moment. "We'd better get to my gate. The plane leaves soon," Harry said, grabbing the cart his trunk was on with his other hand.

Albus followed the two and watched Harry pretend to be interested in whatever Casey was talking loudly about. The old wizard smiled and popped the last lemon drop from the bag he'd bought before he left England into his mouth. He was looking forward to the flight home.

~*~

"Good, Draco. Now say it in French," Lucius Malfoy said to his son, who was busy translating the sentence 'My loyalties lie where they belong.' into as many different languages as he could.

"Mon mensonge de fidélités où ils appartiennent," Draco said with a sigh. This was the fifth language he'd had to translate that sentence into. If it wasn't for the Trans-All chewing gum (Guaranteed to give even the thickest wizard a fluent tongue in every language!) he'd had the good sense to start chewing when his father took him from his room and decided to quiz him, he'd never have been able to translate the sentence into Swahili or Eskimo, requests which he thought were absolutely ridiculous. Then again, his father did spend most of the summer unjustly locked away in Azkaban so perhaps he was allowed an oddity now and again.

"Well done. Now try it in Italian."

"La mia bugia di lealtà dove appartengono."

"Spanish?"

"Lucius," Draco's mother, Narcissa, cut in. "Is this all really necessary?" she asked from her seat across the drawing room. She'd been writing to Mrs. Parkinson. Draco cast a quick and thankful glance in his mother's direction. He wasn't really fond of her, but she proved helpful every now and again.

"Of course it is! You just never know when you might be taken hostage by someone who doesn't speak English," Lucius stated. Draco raised his eyebrows and seriously wondered why he looked up to his father so much. "Besides, the Aurors are fluent in more than one language--even American Muggle children are being taught more than just English, so why shouldn't our boy be just as well-spoken?"

"But Eskimo!" Draco exclaimed, giving his father a questioning look.

"Say it in Spanish, Draco," Lucius growled. Draco nodded, knowing it wasn't any use to question his father; it was one of the few things the older Malfoy would not let his son get away with. However, just as he opened his mouth a loud POP sounded directly behind him. Draco jumped and swallowed his gum.

"What do you want, Girk?" Lucius asked the house elf that was now peering around Draco's knees. Draco cursed under his breath and gave their new servant a small, but harsh, kick.

"Girk is sorry to be interrupting, Sir," he said, crumpling up his pillow case (which was already well on its way to becoming grimy and decrepit), "but Girk thoughts Master and Madam should know supper 's ready for them, Sir."

"Very well," Lucius said and waved the aging house elf away. It left with another loud POP and almost immediately after Draco could smell the pudding the elf had made for supper. "Now, Draco, I'd like to hear the sentence in Spanish."

Draco watched his mother leave the room with pleading eyes. He swallowed and nodded his head. "Right... mi loyalty... os lie... o..." Draco cleared his throat nervously. His father was looking down his long nose at him. Draco tried not to fidget more but failed. Lucius sighed and held up a hand.

"Never mind, son. Go and eat your supper."

"Yes father."

Twenty minutes later Draco was picking unhappily at a caramel and pecan biscuit he'd swiped from the batch his mother was making as a care package to Blaise Zabini's father. Blaise's mother was in St. Mungo's again and the Healers were finding it harder and harder to treat her illness.

"I hate pecans," he muttered into his wardrobe as he looked for something appropriate to wear. Narcissa had informed him and his father that they would be taking a short holiday to go and visit the Zabini's. Lucius had put up quite a fuss--him and Mr. Zabini were in somewhat of a spat at the moment--and Draco hadn't exactly been thrilled, but at least there would be a fellow Slytherin his own age that wasn't Pansy Parkinson there to keep him company.

Finding nothing that was both clean and acceptable to be seen by the general public in, Draco flung himself onto his bed and took a bite out of the biscuit, angrily pushing away the crumbs which fell onto his front as he chewed.

"I really hate pecans."

~*~

"... And then I... oh, where was I again?" Casey asked, distracted by a plane landing and running her fingers through the tips of her hair.

"I think you were finished," Harry said, pleading evident in his voice. Casey's forehead scrunched up and it was Harry's only way of telling that she was eyeing him. She was still wearing dark, rectangular sunglasses, even though she was inside.

"No, I don't think so," she said, absentmindedly tapping her chin. "Oh well! I guess I'll just have to start from the beginning."

"Oh... good." Somehow, Harry managed to plaster a fake smile on his face, again. The two were sitting side by side on black leather chairs that sidled up against a large panel window. His plane had just landed and was now pulling into the gate. He jogged his memory to try and remember how long he'd had to wait in the airport two months ago. After a moment of reconciliation he figured he had close to thirty minutes left in America.

"Alright, so I was at this café in New York City--at least I think that's where it was, I might be wrong--but anyways, I was at this café in--you know, that's really going to bug me! Hold on, let me think of where it is... oh yes! I remember now! I was in Cleveland in this cheesecake shop--why'd I think of New York City, Harry?" Casey giggled. Harry sort of gagged. He'd heard this story twice already within the past twenty minutes and it continued to get worse every time she spoke. "Are you okay?" she asked as Harry tried to hide his quickly disappearing patience in a loud cough.

"Yes, I'm fine. Go on," Harry said and then mentally killed himself for those last two words. Casey smiled, though, and for a short moment Harry didn't feel quite so much on the verge of a migraine.

She watched him carefully for a moment and then continued with the story, grabbing Harry's hand at certain integral parts. He would take her physical contact as a cue to nod, smile, and possibly laugh once or twice. Normally Harry would've had the good manners to actually make an effort to listen to her story, and her first time through he did try, but as soon as he found out she'd been rambling on for ten minutes about a particularly good lemon turnover he'd been more than slightly aggravated. After all, this was their last day together for what could be forever and she wanted to talk about lemon turnovers? Harry knew she wasn't one for particularly stimulating conversation, but lemon turnovers were really a new low.

It was about the time that she'd had to restart her story for the second time that Harry had decided to give Voldemort a break and declare war against the Darker Lord Turnovermort with Draco Malfoy as his right hand man. It took a few minutes for reality to come back into play and let Harry know that he and his imagination had gone completely insane. The realization that he'd been within five feet of Draco Malfoy and not trying to remember the hex that once turned him into a ferret would come later.

"And that's it! I'm done!" Casey smiled, proud that she'd finally finished her tale. Harry wanted to get up and dance.

"Wonderful story, dear." He kissed her instead. She hesitated and Harry remembered that Dumbledore was sitting on one of the chairs across from them, smiling at children and most likely making numerous mental notes. So he pulled away and just hugged her instead. It was rather silly to Harry, seeing as Dumbledore had no doubt witnessed more teenaged snogging than was good for him, but then Harry also remembered that Casey thought the bearded man was his Grandpa, so he didn't say anything.

"Flight 534 direct from Boston to London, England will now begin boarding. All first class ticket holders, Gold Card members, and persons with medical assistance who may need longer time boarding may begin to load onto the plane at this time," said an old woman whose voice sounded like a drawn out wheeze.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Casey whimpered, squeezing Harry harder. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was the part he'd been dreading.

~*~

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was currently being put into a state by his seat belt. Harry Potter was sitting calmly to his right on the airplane ("One of the Muggles' most ingenious accomplishments!" he'd told Poppy once.). The boy was looking out the window and Albus could tell by the shape of Harry's cheeks that he was trying hard to control his smile. Albus focused his attention back on his seat belt and, after another short squall, finally heard everything click into place.

"You know," Harry said, turning and pulling a safety manual out of the seat cushion in front of him. "It's a little disconcerting. I mean, if these things are supposed to be so safe, why do we have to be buckled in?"

Albus chuckled. "People tend to be a bit more cautious when they do not know how to perform Impedimenta properly." Harry looked up at him somewhat blankly. Albus narrowed his eyes slightly. "Impedimenta, Harry," he repeated, making sure to keep his voice soft. Harry just looked at his hands. "Impedimenta allows an object to be slowed down and stopped in mid-air. If I remember correctly, you used this spell during both your fourth and fifth years."

"I'm sorry--" Harry looked around unsurely, "Grandpa--I've had a lot on my mind."

"Clearly schoolwork was not included," Albus said with a tiny smile. Harry shook his head and smiled as well, his posture becoming visibly relieved. "Well my boy, if you didn't spend your summer preparing for this year's lessons, what have you been doing?"

Albus watched as the young wizard screwed up his face in thought. After a moment or two the boy took a large breath and began:

"Well," Harry began in a hushed voice. "When the portkey you gave me dropped me outside of her building I wasn't exactly sure what to do. It was raining and windy, though, so I went inside. Brilliant job using her penthouse number as the portkey, by the way," Harry said the last part as an afterthought. Albus nodded his thank you.

"It took me a bit to figure that part out, though. I was still very upset at you and finding I'd been portkeyed into another country didn't exactly help my emotions any. Anyhow, when I finally figured it out--or hoped I'd figured it out--it was very early in the morning. It was weird when I first met her. I didn't talk to her for a week," Harry blushed. "But after I did we got along pretty nicely." Albus gave Harry a small smirk. Harry laughed. "Alright, we got along better than pretty nicely. She took me shopping and out for dinner. We saw movies together--" Harry paused for a moment and opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to.

"I know what a movie is, Harry," Albus offered. Harry smiled, obviously satisfied, and continued.

"We went on a couple short holidays along the coast. Those were wonderful. I met her friends, I missed my friends, and I quite enjoyed not having to look at the Dursleys or Privet Drive once." Harry nodded in conclusion. Albus had a strong premonition that Harry was leaving large chunks of his summer out, but he didn't question the boy. In fact, it was Harry who seemed to be full of questions.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Harry," Albus said.

"Alright, well, I've been thinking about this all summer and I was just wondering: Why did you have people guarding me when I was at Privet Drive, yet had no one there when I was clear across the ocean?"

Albus allowed himself a chuckle. "Of course you were guarded, Harry. They were better disguised this time, however."

"They?"

"Your cook, your butler, the door man, the lady who sits at the front desk from midnight until six AM, one particular member of the paparazzi, and occasionally Niki Allem."

"Oh... wait, occasionally?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, occasionally. It's a new sort of magic we're trying out. Much like Occlumency, really, except the person performing it can transfer their entire body into the body of another."

Harry looked like he was trying to make sense of this. "So it's a sort of... soul magic?"

"Precisely. Though do not expect it to be showing up in your textbooks any time soon. The Ministry is still working out the kinks, and with Voldemort--"

"Has anything happened yet?" Harry asked quickly. Albus shook his head, knowing full well that Harry had been prevented from finding out any information about the wizarding world at all during the summer months.

"No. There was a small killing in Northern Ireland that looked like it may have been his work, but the Ministry researched it and found it to be only a tragic ending to another Muggle dispute over religion," Albus said gravely. Harry didn't look entirely convinced, but he let the topic drop.

"So who told the Dursleys that I wouldn't be coming home?" Harry asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Albus did not smile.

"I informed your Aunt by owl two weeks before the end of term."

Harry's smile stopped. "How long, exactly, were you planning on doing this to me?"

"I had known for a week or two before that night at the Ministry," Albus began, choosing his words carefully. Harry's face had already begun to darken. "I thought it might do you some good to visit a friend of the family--"

"I would hardly call her that," Harry said harshly. "A family friend is normally someone whom you've grown up with and who you've known all your life." He paused. "It also helps if you have a family to begin with."

Albus remained calm. Somber, but calm. "Casey's mother was a childhood friend of your mother and was her only friend who still accepted Lily for what she was once her magical abilities were revealed. Their friendship was so strong that it lasted through Lily's school days. Even though Casey's family is perfectly Muggle her mother, her new husband, and their two-year-old daughter remained close friends with your parents up until the end." (Harry scowled.) "Should life have traveled a happier path, I have no doubt in my mind--old as it may be--that you would have grown up in Casey's company."

"But things didn't work out that way," Harry continued on for Albus, who nodded.

"Unfortunately you are correct. Circumstances provided that you and Casey never met more than a handful of times in your early youth. To my knowledge, she has no clue about her parents' past."

"If they were so ashamed of it, why were they friends with my parents in the first place?" Harry seethed.

"Do not assume things, Harry. I do not know her parents' reasoning for keeping this from their daughter, but that is also not my place to meddle. They have moved on," Albus finished. "Perhaps you should try to take a nap. You've had a long summer."

Harry sighed and pulled a small pillow out from underneath his seat. Albus couldn't blame Harry for being angry, but he had also hoped that this extended holiday would rid him of the anger and resentment it had obviously failed in doing. That was, after all, the entire point in sending the boy over to America in the first place. Originally, it had been to give Harry a break and show him that there were people who, just like him, faced the trials of fame and were able to remain happy about it. The idea of sending him overseas had been toying in his mind since he saw Harry enter the Great Hall on his first day of Fifth Year. However, as the year progressed Albus noticed one of his favorite students drifting further and further inside of himself. A month before Sirius died he knew he would be portkeying Harry across the Pacific Ocean. That tragic night, however, only added fire to the flame. It was for Harry's safety, really, Albus assured himself. Doubts began to spring up in his head, however, and so he ordered a hot chocolate off of the refreshment cart when the brunette stewardess passed.

~*~

Harry stared moodily at the insides of his eyelids. For the second time in twenty-four hours he was pretending to be asleep. He sighed sleepily and switched positions, hoping that maybe he really would fall asleep. Dumbledore had just given him information (and morbid reminders) he'd really rather not think about at the moment.

Slowly sleep took him over. Fifteen minutes later and Harry was dreaming of Casey having tea with his parents when their house was suddenly broken into by the Darker Lord Turnovermort.

Harry's eyes popped open with a start. He swore under his breath and made a personal vow never to eat anything lemon ever again before drifting into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the journey. The last thing he could remember was how absolutely wonderful it'd feel to be with Ron and Hermione once again.