I Love You, Don't Touch Me!

A tall, somewhat gangly boy lay on the grass in the backyard of 4 Privet Drive one Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining brightly, warming the back of his flannel shirt, and making his dark hair almost too hot to touch. He lay on his stomach, with his arms folded to make a pillow for his head, and his eyes were closed. A bird chirped in a tree near by, and the sky was such a rich shade of blue that the oceans themselves would have been put to shame. There was a light breeze, enough to make the day a pleasant one, if the peacefulness of the afternoon hadn't been about to be spoiled.

"HARRY! Where is that boy?!" A loud voice broke the silence. The shout rumbled off the walls of the house, and may have even caused the gate to the back lane to rattle, although that may have just been the wind picking up.

Harry Potter lay still for a moment, not wanting the solitude he had managed to find for a few moments to end so soon. At the second roar, however, he opened his eyes and got to his feet. He could hear his beefy uncle stomping around the house, shouting for him to get downstairs and into the living room by the time he counted to three. If he didn't, there would be no supper, let alone any other form of nourishment, for a week. Harry glanced at his watch and noticed that it was nearly half past five.

The young teenager walked quickly to the back door and let himself inside. Threats such as these weren't uncommon, and they had ceased to scare him - much. However, what the Dursleys called 'food', at least what they called the things they allowed Harry to eat, wasn't anything that the young Potter would miss much. He ate about as well as the average alley cat, and was treated worse. Therefore, when he arrived at school, that is, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he ate like there was no tomorrow. This often caused his friend Hermione to give him odd looks and motherly comments about overeating. Well, at least Ron ate that way too, and he was well fed at his home... at least when he managed to beat his two (sometimes five depending on which were home at the time) brothers and one sister to the table.

Vernon Dursley was standing near the front door with his wife, Harry's Aunt Petunia, and son, Harry's cousin Dudley, where they were putting on their shoes. He stood in the doorway from the kitchen and leveled a cool stare at his Uncle. If they were going out that was all the better for him.

"There you are boy! What took you so long?" Vernon demanded, his face, and the small amount of neck that managed to squeeze its way out from the top of his white dress shirt, a marvelous shade of red.

"I'm sorry sir, I was in the backyard." Harry answered politely, although his first reaction had been to roll his eyes at his Uncle, turn on his heels and go back outside.

"Don't use that tone with me, young man! We took you in out of the kindness of our hearts, even though we knew that it would be tough to raise two boys at once." Vernon's face turned a slightly deeper shade of red, if that was at all possible, and he took a few steps toward his nephew.

Harry again resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his uncle. Raise two boys? More like raise one boy, and pretend that the other doesn't exist. He waited patiently for his uncle to continue speaking, as arguing anything against him would be useless.

"We're going out for dinner with a colleague of mine, and expect to be out until at least 8 p.m. If I return to find a single thing out of place from the way that we left it, there will be hell to pay! Do I make myself clear, boy?"

Harry nodded silently, and at his Uncle's glare mumbled, "Yes Sir. I won't touch a thing." He watched as his relatives swept out the front door to their equally neat Station Wagon.

Harry watched as they pulled out of the drive and drove off down the street, waiting until they had turned the corner before hurrying back to the front door, and turned the latch to lock it. Sighing deeply, the raven haired teen walked slowly up the stairs to his room, where Hedwig was cooing softly in her cage in the corner. Harry crossed the room and pulled up the towel that he had draped over the gold birdcage to keep his pet quiet when his Anut and Uncle were home. Hedwig perked up immediately, when she saw his face, and let out a slight squawk. Harry laughed.

"Sorry for making you wait girl, they're gone now."

He then pulled a small gold key from a string around his neck, kept there to prevent his cousin from being able to open the cage and torment his beloved pet, and clicked the lock open. Hedwig climbed out of her cage with a minimum of fuss, perching herself on her master's arm, and allowed Harry to carry her across the room to the half open window. Harry set the snowy white owl down on the window ledge, watching the sun as it began it's decent into the trees. Night would be upon them soon, and Harry was glad; Hedwig hadn't been able to stretch her wings in almost 4 days. As he waited, he let his eyes roam around his room.

The room was a decent size for a 17 year old boy, a single bed with a faded quilt and two half full feather pillows on it stood against the wall, tucked in a corner near the window. A dresser stood opposite the window wall, on the side with the door and it's rusty hinges which prevented Harry, on most occasions, from sneaking down to the kitchen for a real meal after his relatives where asleep for the night. At the foot of his bed was his battered Hogwarts trunk, locked securely to keep all of his school books and his Firebolt safe.

Vernon had allowed him to keep the trunk in his room as long as he didn't try any of that 'funny magic business' in the house. This was, of course, because of the 'strong suggestion' that he and wife be nice to Harry from a few prominent members of the Order back in Harry's fifth year. When anyone was watching, the Dursley's were as good as their word (which isn't saying much), but like today, when there was no one to see, they treated Harry about as kindly as a detested vermin.

Vermin...Vernon. Making the connection in his mind, Harry laughed softly to himself. Yes, his Uncle was rather rat-like in looks. Watery eyes, pointed nose, red face, and a neck that just grew into his torso without much distinction. Harry sometimes wondered if his Uncle was related to Peter Pettigrew in some way.

His eyes fell then on his writing desk. The desk was opposite his bed, next to the small table on which Hedwig's cage was nestled. Harry crossed the room and sat down. He hadn't written to either Ron or Hermione in weeks. There simply hadn't been an opportunity to get Hedwig out of the house with a letter. Sitting down, he opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write.

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry for not writing sooner, summer has been hectic. Vernon and Petunia have taken Dudley out to dinner with a man that Vernon works with, so I can finally let Hedwig out again. I fear that she's getting a little annoyed with me for not letting her stretch her wings very much.

Hedwig affectionately nipped one of Harry's knuckles and he nearly dropped his quill. The snowy owl cocked her head to the left and blinked at him, giving her owner a soft cooing sound to let him know that she didn't hold him responsible. Harry smiled and continued his letter.

It's my birthday in a week. I just thought I'd let you know I expect a highly extravagant gift from you. (Just kidding!) I can't wait for the summer to be over. I'm counting the days until I'll be back on the train and heading back to Hogwarts with you and the others. Tell Fred and George that I'm thinking of buying a few of their new tricks. I want to surprise our favorite Slytherin this year... you will help me right? Nothing else to write. Maybe you could try to call me sometime? I'd phone you, but I'm pretty sure that your Dad would have a heart attack if his muggle phone actually rang. Only...don't shout when if call, normal speaking voices work fine, really. Oh, and whatever you do, don't mentin Hogwarts, remember what happened last time!

Your Friend,

Harry

Harry was, of course, referring to Aurthur Weasley's antique phone that looked like it came out of the 1890's. He had spent his last vacation at the Weasley's explaining how the device worked, much to Molly's disdain. Why would her husband want to use that troublesome machine when he could just floo or aparrate to whomever he wished to speak with? Harry laughed to himself as he rolled up the scroll, tied a blue ribbon around it, sealed it with navy wax, and pressed his personal seal (A gift from Sirius in his fourth year. It was a circle of flames with a capital cursive "H" in the middle of it, a jagged lightening bolt acting as the line in the middle of the "H".) into it before it dried. Pulling out another piece of parchment he began a similar letter to Hermione.

Dear Hermione,

How's your summer going? Mine hasn't been too bad. The Dursley's are spending more and more time out of the house. That's fine with me. I like to spend time alone. At least, it does beat actually hanging out with them, treading on eggshells, so to speak. I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad I can talk to you this way. Ron wouldn't understand half the muggle terms I use so commonly.

He paused. He wasn't being as honest about his home life with his other best friend. I didn't want her to worry though...that was all. Hermione had different values than Ron did. Ron would want to get even. Hermione would want to go to the police if she knew what was really going on at the Dursley's. Vernon and Petunia brought a whole new meaning to the term 'neglect'. Harry sighed and continued.

Anyways, my birthday is in just under a week (Well, a week if you include today). What are you getting me? (Just kidding) Although, some decent food would be nice. I can't wait to get back to school. Well...I can wait to do all the homework that 7th year is going to bring. I know that that's the part you're looking forward to most though. (Joking!) See you on the train in a couple of weeks!

Yours Always,

Harry

He rolled the parchment, then tied and sealed it the same way he had done Ron's. The sun had set completely now and Harry could see that Hedwig was getting a anxious to get outside. He quickly tied the two letters to her feet, one on each leg, then pushed the window open all the way.

"Take these to Ron and Hermione, Hedwig, and take a nice long break out there while you're at it. You deserve it."

Hedwig hooted twice, then hopped up to the edge of the window ledge and jumped off, spreading her expansive wings as she did so. Harry watched as his owl soared up into the night air, circled over the yard once, then disappeared over the trees.

He sighed, envious. She was so free.

* * * * * *

Harry woke up on the morning of his birthday and yawned loudly. A glance at his watch (a gift from the Weasley's of course, the Dursly's would never have given him anything that nice) told him that it was 6:53 a.m.. He sighed and rolled over, but it was no use, he couldn't go back to sleep. There was a tapping sound in his ear, and it took the sleepy teen a few moments to register it, then a few moments more to figure out where it was coming from.

Outside the window, Hedwig was pecking at the glass, her glossy feathers dripping with droplets of water from the end of an evening storm. Harry jumped out of bed and hurried to the window, yanking it open. Hedwig hopped inside with an indignant hoot at her owner, as if chiding him for being so slow at that time of day. After all, it was light out, wasn't his kind supposed to be up by now?

"Sorry girl. But really, it's barely morning...can't you tell? The sun is just 'thinking' about getting up..." but he trailed off there, knowing that it really was pointless to try and talk to his owl like that.

Harry pulled the towel off the birdcage and quickly dried his pet off. It was then that he first noticed the two small packages tied to her legs. He quickly removed them and Hedwig flew across the room and into her cage, with much ruffling of her long white feathers, to take a long drink from her water dish.

Harry sat on his bed and examined the packages. The first one was rather battered looking, and his name and address scrawled on the front in messy printing made it obvious that it was from the Weaslys. He eagerly tore off the brown paper and opened the small white box. Inside were several things.

There was the usual wrapped packaged of fudge from Mrs. Weasley. Then, a plug tied with a red bow and a tag hanging off it saying 'It's one of my best, my boy. I have two, so I thought you would like to have one.' That was from Mr. Weasley. Harry cracked a smile at this gift. Arthur was slightly fanatic about muggle things and for him to give Harry a present like this was a compliment.

The next gift was from Ron. A quill and ink. Nothing special, but practical. That was it. Nothing from the Twins, but Harry wasn't surprised. He was friends with the troublesome Weasley boys, but they were busy with their joke shop these days and probably didn't have time to get him anything.

The next package was wrapped neatly in white paper, his name and address was written in neat handwriting in purple ink. This one was from Hermione. Harry stared at the box for a moment, somehow not wanting to destroy the neat, yet plain, box. In a life that was full of disorder, the box was a reminder of simple things. A reminder of a life not controlled by insane relatives or equally crazy evil wizards. Slowly he slit opened the paper at the sides and slid out the box inside. When he lifted the lid his mouth dropped open. There was nothing but a simple card inside, but what was inside the card was what had caused him to stare.

There was a simple note from Hermione telling him to hang in there until the September, and that she knew life was hard but she knew he was strong enough to take it. She also reminded him that after this year he was legally allowed to remain in the wizarding world. He wouldn't have to return to this awful place. Harry sighed happily. He had forgotten about that! He was 18 that summer! It was around then when he finally noticed the smaller, credit-card sized card which had fallen onto his lap. He picked it up and inspected it.

Dear Sir or Madam,

This card entitles you to one robe of your choice at Glad Rags. It may be redeemed at any time. Thank-you for shopping the Wizarding World's finest Clothing Store.

"Harry Potter" was written neatly alone the dotted line at the bottom of the card. In the center of the card, between the short message and the greeting, was a picture of wizard modeling a new cloak of deep blue. Of course the picture was moving, as did all photographs in the wizarding world

Harry was shocked. This was the nicest gift anyone had ever given him. It wasn't that he needed charity, though. In the wizarding world he was rather well off, considering the fortune his late parents had left him, but it was the thought that counted. At first he wondered how Hermione had obtained the gift certificate, but the short "P.S." note at the end of her card explained that she had written to Fred and George and asked them to get it for her.

Harry lay back on his bed and smiled at the ceiling. Even if his relatives didn't care about his special day, his friends did, and that was enough for him.