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Chapter Five
At Home with Harry


Harry’s heart beat incredibly fast. There was no way around this one. Hermione and Ron were both standing on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive, and Ginny was in the house just behind him. They didn’t know she was here, didn’t know she even had a reason to be here. Nothing was going in their favour, not the fact that there were signs of a second presence in the dishes in the kitchen sink nor the sleeping bag and girl’s clothing littering his bedroom floor. Not even the fact that the last Harry had seen her, Ginny’s body had been scarcely covered by one of his shirts and a barely-there pair of cut off shorts.
“What are you doing here?” asked Harry staring at his two best friends, not yet ready to let them in to find Ginny somewhere she definitely wasn’t supposed to be.
“We came to stay with you for a few days, maybe help you with your chores,” Hermione told him, thinking his reaction was purely fuelled by shock, without the guilt that was actually a big part of it.
“But the Dursley’s…” Harry trailed off, realising that he had told Ron that his relatives were gone. Nothing was going in his favour.
“They’ll never know, unless of course we stand out here long enough to catch the neighbours’ attention. I don’t doubt they’ll mention to your aunt that you had visitors,” said Hermione with a bit of a smile. She had always had trouble believing that Harry’s family could possibly treat him as poorly as he sometimes mentioned. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him; Hermione just assumed he exaggerated.
“Come in, then,” Harry said, preparing to duck any spells or fists that came his way when Ron caught sight of the scantily clad youngest Weasley.
When nothing happened for a whole minute, Harry looked around. He saw that the hallway was miraculously empty. Not a red head in sight, except for Ron. His heart lightened a little, and he hoped Ginny was well hidden, because he doubted that his friends would be willing to leave quickly. “So, umm, why don’t you two sit down in the living room, and I’ll get you a drink. I’ve been living off water, but I’m sure there’s some sort of frozen juice mix in the freezer,” Harry said to give himself a bit more time. He quickly fled the damned living room, cursing the fact that it was probably safest to spend some time in there with the pair. Maybe if he kept them entertained long enough, Ginny would be able to hide all signs of her presence in the house.
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Ginny fled up the stairs as fast as she could. How could her brother have just shown up like that! Didn’t he have any manners?
Once in Harry’s room, she stuffed all her things into her bag and set it by the door, she next grabbed the sleeping bag that Harry had used and stuffed it under his bed. She looked around to make sure nothing of hers had been left out. Then Ginny clutched her bag to her chest and pulled out the invisibility cloak that she had just returned to Harry after having borrowed it on the train, and covered her self in it.
On silent feet, Ginny eased out the bedroom door, and to the steps. She had worked her way half way down silently when Harry hurried out of the living room and into the kitchen. Ginny followed him, hoping he had left his friends on the couch while he grabbed them a drink or something. She entered the kitchen and made sure they were alone before taking off the cloak.
“There you are!” hissed Harry in relief, pulling Ginny to him. “What do we do?”
“Get them out of here tomorrow at the latest!” she responded. “Do you think that Hermione should sleep in the guest room?”
“I only have one sleeping bag,” Harry said with a grin. “Well, one that I’m willing to use at any rate. I once found some nasty magazine’s of Dudley’s rolled up in the other one and I refuse to let any decent human near it again.”
“Alright, Ron and you in your room, Hermione in the guest room. Where do I go?” Ginny asked, leaning back in Harry’s embrace just far enough to see his face.
“Are you afraid of spiders?” he asked with a strange look on his face.
“No, but what does that matter?” responded Ginny.
“A great deal. I think I know where you can stay if you don’t mind small, slightly dark spaces and spiders,” Harry said with an odd, bitter twist of the mouth.
“Okay, I can deal with that,” Ginny told him, “What’s the plan?”
“You stay on the steps, I’ll bring them into the kitchen, so I can close a door between them and us while I help you move into my cupboard,”
“Your cupboard, Harry?” she asked, curious.
“Now is not the time to go into it,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Just go wait on the stairs.”
“All right, but do you want me to do something about the dishes first?” she asked.
“I’ll just throw them in the dishwasher,” Harry said, as he pulled Ginny close for a brief kiss before sending her off.
After loading the dishes, pulling out a pitcher of the juice he and Ginny had made up for breakfast, and setting that and three glasses on the table, Harry went to fetch his friends. “Guys, I hate this room, why don’t we sit in the kitchen,” Harry offered.
“Why do you hate a room?” asked Ron, as both followed him into the kitchen.
“Bad memories,” Harry said darkly.
“Oh,” said Ron, not sure whether he wanted to ask or not.
“You two sit, I’ll just go put these paint cans away,” Harry told them when they reached the surgically white kitchen of number four Privet Drive.
“We’ll help you carry them, Harry,” said Hermione as she and Ron both gabbed an empty pail and some of the other painting paraphernalia before he could protest. “Where to?”
“Cupboard under the stairs, I guess,” Harry said, leading the way, trying to think of a reason that he could send his friends back to the kitchen and remain behind for even a second. Harry pulled open the door, deposited his cans and stepped back.
“Why’s there a bed all set up in here?” asked Hermione a little sharply.
“This is where I slept until I was eleven,” Harry said. “It’d probably still be my bedroom if the address on my Hogwarts letter hadn’t mentioned my cupboard. I think that scared my uncle into thinking that a bunch of wizards were going to come after him for locking me in there.” Harry’s laughter was bitter as he waited for his friends to put their cans down and step away. He pushed the door shut when they were done, saying, “I think I might go wash my hands. I’m still all paint covered. Why don’t you two go sit down?”
They went, very quietly, as though they had seen something horrible in the cupboard under the stairs. And perhaps they had: Harry’s childhood.
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“Gin,” Harry called quietly, and she slipped off the cloak. There were tears in her eyes, and she was about to say something to him. He put a finger to her lips, “Not now, not with them in the next room. Just crawl into the cupboard, and I’ll come back to talk after they fall asleep. It might be late; I don’t know if they’ll want to talk. I love you,” he said, all at a whisper. “Sorry about the paint cans, but don’t worry, the fumes won’t hurt you. There should be a flashlight hidden under the bed, so it won’t be so dark, plus a few books hidden there, too. Oh, and if anyone goes up the stairs, close your eyes against the dust.”
Harry left Ginny to wonder just how he knew that being shut in a small cupboard with paint fumes wouldn’t cause one any damage. She cried quietly for the little boy who had spent years in this cupboard under the stairs, and resolved that she would make up for all the pain his crummy relatives had ever caused him.
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“If we’d known they were going to back tomorrow, we would have come earlier. We had meant to keep you company in this house all by yourself,” Hermione told Harry that night as they climbed to stairs to go to bed.
“That’s alright,” Harry said, impressed with the fact that he had been able to come up with a solution that got them out early the next morning and a reason why all the chores he had written them about would be done. “It’s not so bad here without the Dursleys, and being in one room most of the time is okay when it’s by choice.”
Hermione looked at him sadly, and Harry knew that he had once again revealed something that pulled on her heartstrings when he had only meant to make a joke, “I was kidding, Hermione. They only locked me in that room once or twice.” Harry didn’t mention that those times had been for weeks on end. He also didn’t acknowledge that there were plenty of times that they had trapped him in his cupboard because that didn’t really fall under the category of ‘that room’. Harry was sick of Ron and Hermione trading looks that said ‘poor Harry’. They’d always known that the Dursley’s were nasty to Harry, why did it seem so much worse when they saw the proof rather then just hearing his bitter half jokes?
“Anyway, it’s okay that they’ll be back tomorrow,” Harry said, “They decided a few years ago that the work they got out of me wasn’t worth having me in their sight, so I can sit in my room and plan. We have a lot of plans to make, and only so much time to do it in.” As soon as he realized that he had instigated another of those ‘poor Harry’ looks, the teen ploughed on with plans, trying to distract them. “I think we should wait until September until we head out.”
“Good idea,” said Ron, who sympathised with Harry’s obvious desire not to be pitied because of the things the Dursleys had done to him in the past. In a few weeks, Harry would never have to think of them again.
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Ginny had heard the three conversing on the steps, but only a few of the words stuck with her. Slowly, she was amassing a picture of the life Harry’s relatives had created for him in their home, and it became darker every time he let some new piece slip. She was glad that she had come to stay with him here, if only because now she knew something had to be done about the horrible muggles who had been allowed to treat Harry as if he were nothing but a lowly bit of scum.
And Ginny thought it only right that the girl who loved Harry more than life itself should be the one to school his family in what a wonderful boy he was…
Hours passed as Ginny thought up punishment after punishment for the wretched souls who had hurt her Harry, until suddenly the cupboard door creaked open. She tensed, then recognised Harry. He had brought with him a candle, and its light made his eyes sparkle green amidst the dancing shadows. “How are you?” he whispered, coming to sit next to her.
“Okay,” Ginny replied, snuggling into his arms as he set the candle down on a box.
“They fell asleep fairly quickly. I think they were worn out by all the pitying they’ve done since they arrived.” Harry’s smile was a mix of amusement and bitterness.
“Forget about them, and the Dursleys for now. Just think about me,” Ginny whispered as she kissed him gently. As their lips moved together, Ginny pulled and managed to tug his shirt up over his shoulders. Her lips left his briefly as she removed it entirely, then she let him remove the old t-shirt that she wore over her black bra. Then she shimmied out of her tight shorts to reveal matching knickers. His lips tugged at the skin of her neck, and she threw back her head. Her hands pulled open his jeans, and then as he stood to take them off, Ginny leaned in and instead did it herself.
Harry stood looking down at her, and was taken aback by her simple beauty. Her breasts weren’t large, but the pale upper rise that was left bare by her skimpy bra was so inviting. He felt her hands in the waistband of his boxers, and suddenly, sadness and regret in his eyes, he knew that he couldn’t sleep with her that night. She was so young, and he didn’t want to rush her, and he didn’t want her first time to be in a dusty old cupboard. “Ginny, stop,” he said, “This isn’t right. You’re only fifteen, you don’t really know what your doing.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re sixteen and about to go off to try and kill a dark lord, a fully trained wizard! I’ll I’m trying to do is make love to my boyfriend.” With that, she leaned over and kissed him through his boxers. He stirred against her lips.
“Ginny,” he said again, but not in protest this time. He pushed her down onto the narrow bed and straddled her legs. He leaned onto his elbows and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. Finally he opened it and tossed the garment away. He stared down at her, her eyes glazed with desire, her hair spilling around her, and her breasts unbound by anything. To only thing she wore now was the scrap of black covering her most private place. Then she reached down and devoid herself of even that.
Long slow moments later, Harry buried himself inside her, and for the first time ever, he felt at home in number four Privet Drive.