The First Year

And so it begins

Harry reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the Headmaster's office. Headmistress, now, he thought, realizing it was now Professor McGonagall's office. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head.

'What'd you do that for?' Ron asked.

'I just want to go up to the dormitory and sleep,' Harry answered. 'Without being mobbed. We have to go by the Great Hall. I'm beyond done in.' He heard Hermione huff softly and saw her give Ron a look from the corner of his eye. He set off for Gryffindor Tower, walking between Ron and Hermione, an act as natural now as breathing.

He came to a stop at the entrance to the Great Hall, and stood for a moment, taking it all in again. Somehow, the sunlight seemed clearer and brighter. He saw the light glint on Ginny's bright head, leaning against Molly still. Every so often, she would turn her face into the shoulder of her shirt, and wipe her face on it. Harry very badly wanted to go to her, but he was so tired. He knew he would be next to useless to her, as exhausted as he was. He turned and headed for the staircase that would take him to the painting of the Fat Lady. 'You two ought to go on back,' he said.

'Are you sure?' Hermione asked gently.

'Yeah. I just want to be left alone for a while.' Harry started to go up the stairs. 'Hey, could one of you tell Mrs. Weasley where I am? So she doesn't worry?'

'I'll tell her,' Ron volunteered. 'I'll even try to make sure she doesn't go up there for a while.'

Harry felt his lips curve into a small smile. 'Good luck with that, mate.'

'Sleep well, Harry,' Hermione said softly.

Harry stopped and turned around. 'You know... I think I might. I don't remember the last time I...' He shook his head and continued up the staircase, finally coming to a stop in front of the Fat Lady, who was celebrating with her friend, Violet. Harry pulled the Cloak off his body, revealing himself to her. 'Hello,' he said. 'I don't suppose you'd let me in to get some sleep in a real bed, would you?'

The Fat Lady eyed him for a moment, then the painting swung forward. Harry craned his head around the frame. 'Thank you,' he said sincerely.

'Not at all,' she replied.

Harry hoisted himself through the portrait hole and stood in the middle of the common room, inhaling the familiar scents of parchment, ink, wood smoke, and some unidentifiable scent that told him he was home. He trailed his fingers over the sofa that had been his and Ginny's favorite place to study. Sometimes, they waited until the common room had cleared, and laid there in each other's arms talking or sleeping.

The picture of Ginny in his arms, with his nose buried in her hair, sent a wave of dizziness over him. His fingers clutched the worn scarlet fabric of the upholstery, an image of her writhing under him flooding his brain. Harry hadn't thought about that in months. He knew exactly what Ginny looked like naked. During the Christmas holiday his sixth year, he had walked into the bathroom at the Burrow while she was in the shower. The lock on the door was a bit dodgy, and Ginny didn't always double-check it. There had been a slight gap between the wall and the shower curtain and Harry stood there in shock, unable to breathe as he watched her rinse the shampoo from her hair. A creak on the stairs above him made him carefully close the door and hastily retreat from the landing back downstairs. 'Oh, God, Ginny...' he breathed. If she were there at that moment, Harry would have given anything to haul her up to his dormitory, lock the door, and...

Harry bent over and let his face rest on the back of the sofa, grateful he was alone.

He took several slow, deep breaths, and shuffled to the stairs that led to the boy's dormitories. The adrenaline that had kept him going for the past few hours was wearing off, and the myriad aches and pains were pricking his attention. It felt like it took hours to climb to the seventh year boys' dormitory and shoving the door open took his last bit of strength.