Sparks

The morning of Harry's seventeenth birthday was exactly how he had imagined it. The day that he would finally be free of the Dursleys was hot and sunny, but with a light breeze. Harry jumped out of bed and into his clothes, accidentally putting his glasses on backwards in his hurry. He tied his packed trunk and owl cage onto his broomstick, leaving out his invisibility cloak. Harry dashed downstairs, his broomstick floating behind him, into the kitchen to say his last goodbyes to the family who had grudgingly housed for the past sixteen years.

Dudley was chewing noisily on some bacon, his small, piggish eyes fixed on a magazine with a particularly lewd picture of a woman with a large bosom, yet very little covering it. Harry wrinkled his nose and turned to face his aunt and uncle. Much to his surprise, they were staring at him as if he had sprouted a long, furry tail.

"Wha-Wha," Uncle Vernon sputtered and pointed his eggy knife at something behind Harry. Harry whirled around, pulling out his wand, thinking maybe a dementor or something was behind him, then started to laugh when he saw his broomstick, complete with trunk and cage, floating docilely behind him. Uncle Vernon turned purple.

"You'll be chucked out of your madhouse for that, you know," Uncle Vernon said when he finally gained his composure. "You're not allowed to use your...thing out of school."

Harry grinned wickedly. "Not anymore. I'm seventeen, I can do magic wherever I am." Then, to their disbelieving faces, Harry transfigured the bawdy magazine Dudley was leering at into a Bible. The astonished look on Dudley's face when he realized that Miss Dolly was no longer there was priceless.

"Well," Harry said, "goodbye. Thank you for the little you have done. Have a nice life." As an afterthought, he added, "And if my good friend Lord Voldemort shows up, tell him that he can stick his wand up his-"

Uncle Vernon started, stopping Harry mid-sentence. "I will not have anyone curse under my roof!" he thundered.

Harry laughed gaily. "That's just it, Uncle Vernon. I don't live here anymore." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of four Privet Drive for the last time.

Harry climbed on his broom and threw his invisibility cloak over himself, then pushed off into the brilliant blue sky.

After two hours of glorious flying, Harry banked sharply downward, whizzing through the air toward an impossibly tall, wobbling house surrounded by clucking chickens and garden gnomes.

He touched down in front of the gate and took off his cloak. Mrs. Weasley immediately ran out of the house and hugged him, squeezing his thin frame against her ample bosom. She led Harry into the kitchen, which had a pot on every burner, delicious smells wafting to his nose every time he breathed.

"Hello, Harry, dear. You look absolutely famished. Lunch is in a half hour, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait until then to eat something." She held him at arm's length and appraised him mournfully. "You're much too thin," she said, then sighed. "I suppose you want to see Hermione and Ron." When Harry nodded fervently, Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs, "Ron! Hermione! Harry's here!"

Seconds later, Ron and Hermione came bounding down the stairs, nearly bowling Harry over in their exuberance. Ron thumped Harry soundly on the back, nearly breaking his spine.

"Happy Birthday, mate," he said cheerfully. Hermione hugged him tightly and kissed him on one cheek. "Happy birthday! We missed you!"

"Harry?" Ginny called from the top of the steps. "Harry? Is that you?" Ron and Hermione moved away, glancing warily at Harry, not sure what his reaction would be. Harry, it seemed, could not speak, just stare at the lithe figure at the top of the stairs. Finally, he managed to croak something sounding suspiciously like, "Ginny?"

She leaped down the stairs and slammed into Harry, winding her hands around his neck and squeezing his tight. Harry pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.

This is what he had been missing. All summer long, he had been happy, looking forward to his eminent freedom, but something hadn't been right. But now, the warm body crushed against his filled that hole.

Ginny was completely, supremely happy. She knew Harry had said they couldn't be together, but that didn't mean he didn't want to be with her. He did, very much, but didn't want to put her in any sort of danger. Ginny didn't care. She wanted to be with Harry so much that it hurt to think of even pretending not to be with him.

Harry pulled away and cupped Ginny's face with one hand. "I'll take it you missed me then," he said softly, teasing. The pull of her soft, sweet lips were too hard for him to resist, and Harry couldn't help but to kiss Ginny for all she was worth.

Ron and Hermione, used to such spectacles, looked alternately bored and embarrassed, but Mrs. Weasley was all smiles. She had been waiting for years for this to happen, and finally, her only daughter, the first female Weasley in seven generations, had fallen in love with Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world. Ginny deserved nothing less than the best, and in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, Harry was the best.

By now, Harry and Ginny were fully making out in the middle of the Weasley living room, with Mrs. Weasley looking on mistily and Ron looking revolted.

Harry slowly slipped his tongue into Ginny's slightly parted lips, eliciting a small sigh. Ginny responded in kind, curling her hands tightly around Harry's neck, pulling him closer, pressing her body to his.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Harry and Ginny broke apart and looked around in surprise, as if they had forgotten they were not alone.

Mr. Weasley was standing in the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face. Ginny blushed mightily, but Harry retained his composure.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he said calmly, as if he had not just had his tongue down Ginny's throat seconds earlier. Ginny stood on her tippy-toes and carefully wiped a small smudge of her lip-gloss from Harry's cheek. The corners of Mr. Weasley's mouth twitched for a second, then he broke into a smile and everyone relaxed.

"Good to see you, Harry," he said, reaching out to shake Harry's hand warmly (Harry's other hand was still wrapped tightly around Ginny's waist). Then, in a whisper, so no one but Harry could hear, he added, "You came right on time. Ginny has been moping around the house since she's been home."

Harry smiled, relieved that his goose was not going to be cooked by his girlfriend's father. Not this time, anyway.

Already Ginny was pulling Harry's hand impatiently toward the stairs.

"Come," she said. "I want to show you my dress for the wedding tomorrow." Harry obliged and started to follow her up the stairs, knowing that they would do more than just look at her dress if left in Ginny's bedroom unsupervised, but Hermione stopped with a smile.

"You could wait one more day, Harry," she said evilly, knowing full well that Harry was that interested in seeing the dress. "Wait until tomorrow, until the wedding, and then you can see Ginny properly in her dress."

Harry glared at Hermione, then switched tactics. "Good point, Hermione," he answered coolly. "To counter my intense disappointment in not seeing Ginny's dress, I will have to-"

"help her degnome the garden!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "What a wonderful idea. Pity I didn't think of it myself." She shooed Harry and Ginny out the back door and latched it behind the, shutting them out from the rest of the house, finally granting them some privacy.