I Love You, Don't Touch Me!

The end of summer comes much faster than most kids like; however, September the first arrived none too quickly for a certain lightning scarred teen that year. Harry's birthday had been the only good part of the summer, aside from his endless days spent outside, alone in the sun. But even that can make a person lonely after while. This was why Harry was particularly happy when the daily rants of 'Where is that boy?!' began to sound from the floor below him.

Hopping out of bed, Harry dressed in a pair of plain, dark green khakis, a white t-shirt and a fitted blue zip-up sweater with two white vertical stripes down each sleeve from the shoulder to the cuff. The sweater had been a gift from Mrs. Figg for his birthday. The Dursleys had been somewhat grumpy about it, but Mrs. Figg had passed it off as a reject of one of her own grandchildren and the Dursleys had been satisfied that their nephew hadn't received anything out of the kindness of someone's heart. Of course Harry had been careful to keep his gifts from his magical friends hidden in his trunk.

He gave his hair one last swipe with his comb then gave up; it would never listen to him. Then he picked up one of the rings on his trunk and dragged it across the floor and out the door to the top of the stairs. Petunia was waiting for him at the bottom.

"Hurry it up child, and don't scratch up my floor with that beastly old trunk of yours! If you want any breakfast, you're going to have to cook it yourself. You're late this morning, and your uncle and Dudley have given up waiting for you." With that, she swept back into the kitchen.

Harry lugged his battered trunk down the stairs and set it by the front door. Walking to the kitchen he could hear Dudley whining about not getting enough bacon and he knew that Vernon and Dudley hadn't waited a moment for him. They didn't care if he didn't get anything to eat. While Petunia was a little bit concerned if Harry was practically starved, she hid it well. When pressed she pled the cause of not wanting to raise a stir with the neighbors if anyone were to find out that they were keeping such a strange boy in their profoundly normal household. Harry was grateful that she saw he got something to eat every now and then, but was sure that the only thing she cared about was having to explain a dead body if it ever came to that.

He entered the kitchen and made a piece of toast, careful to avoid looking Dudley in the eye. His cousin was about as generous with his own food as a ravenous wolf; Harry was sure that if he made eye-contact his cousin would spring on him and rip his toast from his hand while it was still hot.

Vernon rustled his paper and cleared his throat, addressing his nephew.

"Ahem...so boy, today's the day you go back to that school of yours, is that right?"

Harry turned slowly from the counter to face the newspaper shielding his uncle.

"Yes. I have to be at Kings Cross by ten-thirty this morning."

The paper rustled and Vernon spoke again.

"What time is it boy?"

Harry checked his watch. "Seven twenty-five, Sir."

"Well then, let's get going!" Vernon said suddenly, putting down his paper, draining his coffee mug, and standing up. Harry looked from his uncle to his toast. He had only taken one bite out of the strawberry-jam-covered piece of bread.

"But I haven't even finished breakfast!" he protested, although he knew it was in vain.

Vernon gave him a warning look. "Eat on the way boy; you don't want to be late now do you?" With that he stomped from the room: not stomping because he was angry (although he was annoyed at having his nephew talk back to him), but more from the fact that his great weight caused the table to shake with the strength of his footfalls.

Harry gulped down a glass of orange juice then hurried out the kitchen after Vernon. After running back upstairs to collect Hedwig and her cage he crashed back down to the main floor and through the front hall. The front door was already open and Vernon was heaving Harry's trunk into the backseat of the car. Harry climbed in after it and shut the door. His Uncle started the engine and they began the drive to the train station in silence.

It wasn't that Harry was really annoyed at being hustled out of the house over three hours before he was supposed to be at the station; rather, he was just relieved that his uncle was still willing, and had remembered, to drive him there. Not that Harry believed that that would ever happen, the forgetting part, that is. The day that Harry went off to his 'school' was as much of a holiday for the Dursleys as Christmas. Harry wouldn't be surprised if they went out to dinner that night and then bought Dudley a new video game, or something equally nice, for the occasion.

*******

Vernon dragged the heavy trunk out of the back seat twenty minutes later and deposited it on the concrete flagstones in front of W. H. Smith's at the front of King's Cross. Harry got out and stood beside it, waiting to see if his Uncle had any parting words for him.

"Well boy, you'll be staying for the Christmas Holidays again this year, won't you?"

Harry nodded and Vernon gave a relieved sigh. Anything that kept his strange nephew away from his home was good enough for him.

"Well then, you know when your train comes?"

Another nod.

"Good. I'll...be going then." With that, Vernon climbed back into his station wagon, slammed the door, and roared back down the street leaving Harry standing alone.

The sun was just beginning to rise, as Harry sighed, turned, and began to drag his trunk up the steps. Once inside, he made his way to a bench near platforms nine and ten and sat down to wait. He wished he had a book to read or something.

Harry got an idea then, and he took a good look around the station's inner rooms. There were a few men bustling about the trains, checking to make sure everything was in working order, and the Station Master was busy writing in that day's schedule in a far corner, so Harry quietly opened his trunk and pulled out his wand. He slipped it up the left arm of his light sweater then took out his parent's photo album. He was careful to make sure that no one was around to see what was inside before slowly opening it.

His parents waved up at him, smiling brightly. A smaller, childish likeness of himself gurgled silently in his mother's arms. Harry felt a real smile pass his lips and he settled back against a stone pillar to flip through the pages, letting the memories of the past wash over him. Looking at his photos always made him happy; they were the only thing in the world, aside from Hogwarts, that could make Harry remember a time when he had been carefree...and loved.

*****

"Harry James Potter!" A voice suddenly sliced through the air.

Harry sat up with a start. His photo album was lying face down on his chest and his vision was blurry. He blinked and sat up. There was painful crick in his neck and Harry realized then that he had fallen asleep on the bench. He closed the book and rubbed his eyes. Replacing his glasses Harry glanced at Hedwig who cocked her head at him in annoyance as if to say, "No, fool, it's not your bird speaking."

"Harry!" came the voice again. Harry turned the other way to find Ron almost upon him now.

"Ron!" Harry cried joyfully, extremely happy to see his best friend once again. The two made as if to hug, then pulled back at the last second.

"Er...good to see you again, mate." Ron said with a grin, somewhat sheepishly. Harry grinned back and clapped his friend on the shoulder. The understanding that flashed through the two friend's eyes was mutual. They would leave the hugging to the girls; they were 'manly' men.

"When did you get here?" Ron asked as he picked up one side of Harry's trunk and helped him to load it onto a cart.

"Around eight, maybe a little before." Harry replied as he set Hedwig's cage on top of his trunk. Ron gave him a look.

"Uncle Prat couldn't wait to get rid of you, eh?"

Harry laughed, now completely at ease with his friend, as they approached the Weasleys. They were as much Harry's family as Ron's, and he could now smile about being dumped at the station hours before he needed to be there.

"Yeah, I guess so. Not that I wasn't eager myself to be rid of them!" Harry agreed.

"Harry, love, come here and let me take a look at you!" Molly Weasley sang out, stepping forward to pull Harry into a hug. Harry gasped a little as he fought for a breath in the plump Weasley mother's embrace.

"G-good to...see you too!" he managed to gasp before she released him.

"Did you get our birthday package, Harry?" Arthur asked anxiously.

Harry smiled. "Yes, I did. Thank you for the plug, Mr. Weasley; I keep it on my desk."

Arthur beamed with pride while Molly rolled her eyes. Harry smiled at a private thought that had just surfaced with the reminder of Arthur's 'gift'. It was the only gift that the Dursleys wouldn't attempt to 'accidentally' throw out, should they see it. After all, what good is a plug when it's not attached to anything?

"Thanks for the fudge Mrs. Weasley, and for the quill and ink, Ron." Harry added, turning to the rest of the family. Ron grinned and waggled his eyebrows. His mother had thought that he had finally bought his friend a sensible gift for his birthday. She didn't know what her youngest son had really gotten him.

"So where're the twins and Ginny?" Harry asked, looking around at the deceptively small part of the Weasley clan. Anyone passing by might think that Ron was an only child, though that was farthest from the truth.

"Fred and George couldn't come to see me off; they had to get back to their shop, but they do send you their fondest regards and hope that you enjoy your present." Ignoring Harry's confused look, as there had been a considerable lack of joke gifts in his package from the Twins, Ron hurried on, "Ginny went on ahead; she said she was going to meet her friends. She left about ten minutes ago. We noticed you in the corner and Mum thought you were asleep, which you were, so it's a good thing we came to wake you because we have about six minutes to make the train ourselves!"

Harry started."Six minutes!? Let's go!" Harry cried, casting a relieved look at Mrs. Weasley. "Thanks for getting me up! All I need is a FULL year with the Dursleys!"

Molly smiled warmly at him then pulled Ron into a hug.

"Be good, dear."

Ron wiggled out of his mother's arms and smoothed his hair. "I won't do anything Fred and George wouldn't do!" he promised, then pushed his trunk trolley through the barrier between platforms nine and ten before the 'promise' could register.

"Ron...." Mr. Weasley warned, but it was too late; his son was already gone.

Harry waved at his wizard 'foster parents'. "See you later!" he called before disappearing through the barrier after his friend.

******

Ron was standing at the edge of the milling crowd of Hogwarts students and their parents, waiting for a chance to board the shiny red Hogwarts Express. He had a silly grin on his face and Harry laughed.

"So, in other words, you were letting your mother know to expect you to get into a LOT of trouble this year?"

"I would never lie to my mother...." Ron said with an evil grin, as the two boys made their way through the crowds and onto the train.

"Seen Hermione anywhere?" Harry asked causally as a couple of first years ran past them.

"Not yet. Hey, our usual compartment is still empty," Ron replied, leading the way into the empty booth. The boys stored their trunks under their seats and collapsed onto the soft, cloth-covered benches.

"Man," Harry said with a sigh, leaning his neck back and resting his head against the top of the seat, "my neck is killing me! Remind me never to sleep on a stone bench again!"

"Never sleep on a stone bench again," an obedient voice parroted back at him and Harry jerked his head up, his eyes opening again.

Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway to their compartment only...she wasn't the Hermione that Harry remembered from their sixth year. Oh no...this Hermione was different.

Hermione was smiling down at him, laughter alight in her hazel eyes. Her brown hair was still curly as ever, only now it wasn't as bushy. It had been tamed somewhat and hung down her back, near her waist. She had grown about 2 inches, bringing her short stature to a grand total of five feet, six inches, average for a girl their age, but still small compared to Ron and Harry's towering forms of six feet and six foot two.

She was wearing hip hugging black jeans, with silver designs up the legs until the knees, and a pink tank-top. Over top of that she wore a white zip-up hooded sweater, only opened part way. Harry's eyes traveled unknowingly from her chunky soled black shoes, past the black and silver belt that hung loosely around her slender waist, past her jacket and up to her face. Hermione just looked "different" and Harry really couldn't figure out why it bothered him. He stared at her a second longer; just when had his little bushy-haired friend developed curves like those? However, our hero couldn't form any intelligent words at this moment so all that he got out was:

"Hermione! You...got BIG!"

Ron, who had just then been taking a drink of Pumpkin Juice from his thermos, choked.

Hermione's smile faltered a fraction of a second, and she gave Harry an odd look.

"Excuse me?"

Harry tried to cover. "That is...you got bigger..." Damn, this wasn't working. "I mean, you're aged...grown older...in a good way--" He cut himself off to level a glare at his friend, who was attempting to hold in such intense laughter that his face was a red as his hair.

"Step in any time, Ron," he hissed in annoyance, and a slight panic. This was not going well.

"You're doing just find on your own, mate." Ron gasped out. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" she asked, a little concern in her voice.

"Fine. Great. Er...have a seat, Hermione." Harry muttered, feeling his own face struggle to beat Ron's in color, and quickly taking a seat by the window, turning his face away from hers, but not before he sent a death glare at his supposed 'best friend'. So much for helping each other out in 'times of need'.

Ron had recovered by then and asked Hermione how her summer had gone. Hermione lapsed into a story of her summer at the seashore, (which, Harry realized then, accounted for the slight tan she was sporting) pausing every now and then to explain to Ron what a surfboard was, and nearly killing herself with attempts to explain what different 'surfing terms' meant, as the train began to move, quickly picking up speed.

Harry kept out of the conversation for as long as he could, but Hermione hadn't forgotten about him. Thankfully, when she did speak to him, she pretended as if his earlier idiotic display hadn't taken place.

"Harry, what did you mean when you were talking about sleeping on a stone bench before?"

"Huh?" Harry responded intelligently, turning to face his friend and coming nearly nose to nose with her. "Erm..." He quickly moved back a few inches before continuing, "Vernon dropped me off rather early and I sort of fell asleep on one of the passenger benches beside the waiting room. If Ron's mum hadn't spotted me and woken me up, I'd probably still be there." He gave her a crocked grin and she smiled in return.

"Does your neck feel any better?" was her next question. Harry blinked at her. His neck? Oh, right, he had been complaining about it when she had first entered their car. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck unconsciously.

"My neck? Er...I guess it's still a little stiff. Rock isn't exactly the best thing to take a nap on."

"Here, let me help you get the kinks out. Turn around," Hermione ordered.

Harry obediently turned his back toward her, not really understanding what she meant, but the second her strong fingers began to knead his aching shoulder muscles he tensed up, little shivers running throughout his entire body.

"Hold still, Harry, and relax, or I won't be able to do this right," Hermione chided him.

Harry tried to do so, but after only a few minutes he couldn't take it any more. He jumped to his feet, startling Hermione and she half fell over onto the seat where he had just been sitting.

"Harry?" she questioned.

"I...er...hear the snack trolley! I'm going to go get something to eat," Harry called hastily over his shoulder, crossing their compartment in a stride and a half, stepping out into the hall and closing the sliding door behind him.

Ron raised his eyebrows at the retreating shadow of his friend as Harry made his way past the shaded glass and down the hall, then turned and looked at Hermione.

"No. I don't know what's wrong with him today," was all he would say.

Hermione just sighed then opened her book bag. She pulled out her 'Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7' and began to read, or rather, re-read, as she had already skimmed though the book that summer, and memorize some of the harder spells to learn.

******

Harry ambled down the hallway, muttering to himself. That hadn't even been a good lie. The snack trolley always came to each compartment personally; he didn't need to get up to meet it. Why had he reacted that way? His muscles were screaming at him, complaining because of only a half finished massage, but when Harry had felt Hermione's hands on his shoulders he had also felt little jolts of electricity run throughout the rest of his body and that startled him. Hermione was his friend, one of his BEST friends. They hugged and touched all the time, but for some reason, this year was different and Harry couldn't figure out why. That was why he had to leave, get away from his two friends, one in particular, for a while.

He heard familiar voices in a nearing compartment and slid open the door to stick his head in.

"Hiya Harry!" came the slightly deeper voice of Colin Creevey. The mousy boy had grown to about five foot eight now, making him actually look a little grown up, as opposed to his tiny form of five-foot nothing when they had first met back in Harry's second year. His blond hair now reached his shoulders and his blue eyes...let's just say that according to Ron -- through the source of his sister -- Colin was quite the lady killer now.

"Hey Colin." Harry nodded his head in the younger boy's direction.

Speaking of Ginny, she was sitting in the seat opposite him, with one Neville Longbottom sitting next to her. Neville had matured himself, growing almost as tall as Harry, and losing about twenty pounds over the last few years to make him rather good looking as well. His face was still youngish looking though, and he still stuttered when confronted with Professor Snape, but he was more often than not standing up for himself against others.

Ginny was looking well, too. Her shiny, coppery hair now hung down to her mid-back and her pale face had a little color to its cheeks now. Of course, that was quite possibly from the fact that she was sitting next to Neville, and it was no secret to Ron, Harry, or even Hermione that Ginny had a crush on him.

"Hey Ginny, Neville." He nodded at them. "Mind if I join you guys for a while?" Harry asked as he made his way into the car completely.

"Sure Harry, have seat," Colin offered, patting the seat next to him.

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Ginny asked as Harry closed the door and sat down.

"Oh, they're fine. I just spoke with them actually. We've got a car farther to the back, our usual place," Harry informed her. "I just thought I'd take a walk around and see some other people. I don't get much wizarding contact during the summer."

Ginny nodded sympathetically, then turned to Neville and struck up a conversation about a new spell that she had been trying to learn. Colin turned to Harry as he pulled out a familiar board.

"Wizard's Chess?"

"Sure." Harry grinned, and settled down to play. He didn't leave the car until the call to get their robes on, because they would soon be at Hogwarts, crackled over the intercom several hours later.