IX. Last Days Of Summer

"It's a bit plain, don't you think?"

Sakura fidgeted as her best friend Tomoyo walked around her, eyeing her new school uniform critically. The black work robes fit nicely, if a bit loosely, and had a patch sewn onto the front bearing her name beneath the Hogwarts coat of arms. Her winter cloak, black with silver fastenings, lay on her bed.

"It's been the standard uniform for Hogwarts for over three hundred years," scoffed Keroberos. "And it's just fine for a young witch starting out."

"Well, basic black is rather elegant," Tomoyo decided, "but still, it just seems so...ordinary." She sighed. "Of course, Sakura-chan looks good in anything."

Sakura tried not to look too nervous about that comment; Tomoyo was her very best friend, but sometimes...

"So, have you started reading any of your set books yet?" Tomoyo asked.

Sakura shook her head. "I haven't really had time, but I'll probably spend a few days looking through them before..." She paused. "How in the world am I supposed to get there?"

"Eh? Isn't your headmaster coming back for you?" Tomoyo asked.

"Dumbledore gave Sakura-chan a ticket for the Hogwarts Express, but it leaves from London," Keroberos said. "He didn't say anything about how to get there, but I'm sure he—"

"I'll take care of it!" Tomoyo said abruptly. "My mother has a private jet! I'm sure she'll let us take it to England! That way I can see you off at the platform!"

"Tomoyo-chan..."

Tomoyo smiled and sniffled slightly. "Oh, I wish I could go too...I'd give anything to be a mahoushoujo...to be with Sakura-chan at Hogwarts..."

Sakura awkwardly patted her best friend on the shoulder, not entirely sure what to say.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley had been having the same argument since the beginning of the month, and Dudley was beginning to tire of it.

"Vernon," Petunia said hesitantly, "maybe if we just consider enrolling Diddykins in another school..."

Vernon shook his head. "You know those freaks better than any of us, Petunia," he said. "They're determined to put us through this nightmare, for whatever reason I can't even begin to fathom. They'll damn well make sure no school on Earth except that freak school will have him." His moustache quivered mightily. "No other reason for it—any school would be pleased to have a fine lad like our Dudley..."

"Diddydums," Petunia tried in a pleading tone, "it's you we're looking out for, this whole thing is all about you...why don't you say something? Surely if Mr. Houlihan would just listen to you..."

"No chance of that," Dudley said tiredly. "He hates my guts. All the teachers at Smeltings do."

It was the fifth time he'd said it in as many days. He was sick of the subject, for it forced him to admit something that he hated to think about:

Outside of his parents and the boys smart enough to stay on his good side so he wouldn't hit them, nobody really liked Dudley Dursley.

"But we can't just...I mean to say...I couldn't bear having my baby come home next summer with all sorts of strangeness, like...like her..."

His mother continued whinging for a solid hour, with his father offering the same bracing, foul-tempered retorts. Ten minutes into it, Dudley left the room; he doubt his parents even noticed his absence.

As he sat in his bedroom, waiting for his computer to load up his current favourite violent computer game, he glanced at the large packed trunk sitting in the centre of the room.

With a thoughtful frown, he shut off his computer, dragged the trunk over to the bed, sat down on it (causing the springs to groan and the frame to creak alarmingly), and unlatched the lid...

Again she stood, the streetlight illuminating her small frame like an angel, a warm breeze stirring her hair and clothes. She smiled at him, her eyes warm and inviting, her lips pink and moist—"Kiss me."

He took a nervous step forward.

"What are you waiting for? Kiss me. I want you."

His knees began to shake.

"What are you waiting for? Kiss me. I need you."

Another step, and another.

A ghostly pale form, a frightful angel with gunmetal-grey wings, descended from the darkness. Purple fire blazed in the angel's eyes as it produced a deadly-looking black sword and smote the girl in the lamplight.

He cried out, but was rooted to the spot. The grey-eyed man in the charcoal suit emerged from the shadows, knelt, and picked up the beautiful girl's body. His eyes held a glare of accusation. "Why didn't you save her? Why do you never save anyone but yourself?"

Then, head bowed, he stepped back into the shadows, leaving only a desolate, broken boy who could not move, and a pool of glistening blood in the halo of a streetlight.

Cho whistled merrily as she walked into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "You know, if you were any more cheerful, I'd swear you were getting up to something naughty."

Cho giggled. "I can't help it, Mum. I'm..." Her cheeks turned a pretty, rosy shade. "I think I'm in love. Really in love. This summer, it's just been..."

Li Ling smiled. "You really do need to bring Harry over, dear. We only met him briefly, after all."

Cho flushed. "I dunno, Mum. I don't want to frighten him. I'm not entirely sure how he feels, either." She sighed. "I know he fancies me. In fact, his best friends say he's fancied me for a long time. But..." She paused to sip from the glass of juice her mother had given her. "He just seems so shy and awkward all the time..."

"Has he kissed you yet?"

"No...no, he hasn't," Cho said, swishing her glass around a bit.

"Have you kissed him?"

Cho ducked her head. "Only on the cheek," she admitted. "A couple times, we almost kissed, but we keep getting interrupted...and he always looks like he's embarrassed or ashamed of himself afterward."

Li Ling sighed. "There you have it, then. You've got yourself a boy who's in deep, doesn't know you feel the same way, and is afraid to do anything that might upset you and make you stop seeing him." She giggled. "Your father was a lot like that, actually."

"Really?" Cho asked. "What did you do?"

"I tied him down and made love to him until he got the message."

Cho made a funny, squeaking sound and nearly dropped her glass.

"I...err...Harry would probably die of shock if I tried that." *And so would I,* she didn't add.

Li Ling smiled. "In your case, I imagine a nice heart-to-heart chat will clear things up rather nicely."

"But your scar didn't hurt, right?"

Harry had told Ron and Hermione about the dreams.

"No, my scar didn't hurt. It's just..." He waved his hands around vaguely, and sighed.

Hermione reached over and patted him on the arm. "Harry...it's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to Cho. She's not going to die just because you love her."

"Yeah, but..." Harry shook his head. "And anyway, what if she doesn't feel the same way about me? What if she's..."

"She told you she didn't feel that way about Cedric, right?" Ron asked. "And the way she acts when she's over here—and the fact that she's over here all the bloody time—says to me she probably has it as bad for you as you have it for her."

"Ron's right," Hermione said. "You're just being paranoid, Harry." She smiled reassuringly. "It just sounds like a normal nightmare to me. You've found someone special, and you're afraid you're going to lose her. Everyone has dreams like that. But it's nothing, Harry. Believe me. It's nothing."

"I...I guess you might be right," Harry sighed. "I just...if anything happened to Cho..."

"Hey, you know, she's got a Triwizard champion to look after her! Four-time survivor of You-Know-Who! Slayer of horrible killer snakes!" Ron leaned back and grinned. "Gryffindor Prefect, even! Anyone'd be crazy to try to hurt your girl!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, but added, "He's got a point, Harry. Cho seems to be able to take care of herself, and if something should happen, you're hardly one to be trifled with. Stop worrying about things that might happen, and worry about things that will happen."

Harry looked vaguely panicked. "Such as?"

"Such as you and Cho having a private snog before we leave for Hogwarts," Ron said. "Can't avoid it forever."

"And studying for the O.W.L.s, of course," Hermione added. "Don't forget about that."

"Like we could, with you reminding us every three seconds," Ron snorted.

Sakura lay face-down on her bed, kicking her bare feet absently in the air as she thumbed through her copy of Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling. Tomoyo sat against the wall, camcorder focused on the young witch, a dreamy expression on her face. "You look so cute with those glasses on, Sakura-chan," she said.

Sakura gave a small, nervous laugh. "Do you really have to videotape me reading my new books, Tomoyo-chan?"

"Of course! I must document Sakura-chan's last month before she goes off to Hogwarts! I won't have a chance to record anything after you leave, so I have to work extra-hard now!"

"Eh...heheh," Sakura giggled, feeling beads of nervous sweat prickling her brow. Sometimes, Tomoyo really scared her.

"I really wish I could at least see this school," Tomoyo sighed. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

"Oh, it's great!" Keroberos piped up. "It's a big castle, and all the paintings move, and the staircases, and it has a banquet hall with a ceiling that looks like the sky, and a lake, and...oh, it's just magnificent!" He let out a happy sigh. "I'm really looking forward to going back. I love Hogwarts."

At Tomoyo's sad expression, Sakura piped up, "I'll try to send you lots of pictures from school, Tomoyo-chan."

Tomoyo cheered up. "Make sure to put yourself in them, Sakura-chan!"

"...okay..."

Just then, an owl fluttered through the bedroom window, carrying a small parcel, which it dropped on the desk before flying away.

"Ah, I think that's your new wand!" Keroberos said, flying over to the desk. He picked the package up with some difficulty and brought it over to Sakura.

"Wow! Open it, Sakura-chan!" Tomoyo cheered.

Sitting up on the bed, Sakura unwrapped the parcel, which contained a long, thin box, along with a brief note.

There you are. Cherrywood, nine inches, light and whippy, with a single hair from that creature of Clow Reed's. Hope it works well for you. If you have any problems, owl back and we'll see what we can do about it. -Ollivander

Sakura took the lid off the box and withdrew a small, thin, beautifully-polished wand. Tomoyo leaned in for a closer look with her camcorder.

"Give it a little wave, Sakura-chan," Keroberos advised.

"Er...okay..." Sakura raised the wand over her head and flicked it. A shower of cherry blossoms burst forth and rained slowly down on the bed.

"Cool!" Tomoyo cried. "Do it again!"

Sakura, looking quite embarrassed, made cherry blossoms rain down four more times before finally deciding enough was enough. "So this is a real magic wand, then," she said, examining it appreciatively.

"Yup!" Keroberos smiled. "Let me teach you a spell. Hold it in front of you and say Lumos."

Sakura did as she was told. The end of her wand lit up, casting a beam of light across the floor.

"Wow, that was easy!" Sakura exclaimed.

"That's a basic spell. Say Nox to turn it off." As she did that, Keroberos crossed his paws. "Now, let's see if you can do a few more little spells..."

The last week of August, Professor McGonagall appeared once more at the door to Number Four, Privet Drive. She carried with her a rather large cage draped with a blanket.

Dudley had answered the door, and his face paled. "Um, uh..."

"I should like a word with your mother, Mr. Dursley," Professor McGonagall said crisply.

"Right..." Dudley said, waddling back into the house. A moment later, Mrs. Dursley walked toward the door, wiping her hands on her apron; she was scowling at the severe witch.

"Well?" she asked brusquely.

"One detail Professor Dumbledore neglected," Professor McGonagall said without preamble. "You and your husband will require an owl, if you wish to remain in touch with your son over the course of the year. I presume you will wish to write to Dudley while he's at Hogwarts?"

"Of course we'll be writing to our son," Mrs. Dursley snapped waspishly.

"I only ask because not once in the past four years do I ever recall Harry receiving a single letter from home," Professor McGonagall said, a flash of intense dislike in her eyes.

A muscle worked furiously in Mrs. Dursley's cheek.

"Of course, it may simply be because you lacked the proper means to contact him," the witch went on. "Perhaps Mr. Potter would receive letters from home if you but had an owl..." She presented the cage she held to Mrs. Dursley. "I expect you shall put this owl to good use."

Mrs. Dursley took the handle of the cage rather reluctantly. "Thank you, we shall," she said stiffly." Before Professor McGonagall could say another word, Mrs. Dursley slammed the door in her face.

Harry sat with Cho on the sofa in the Weasleys' living room. Everyone else had cleared off, using some excuse or another to give the two teenagers some privacy. They had been talking about inconsequential things for a while.

"Hey, Harry?" Cho asked.

"Yeah?"

Cho shifted around to look Harry straight in the eyes. "I...we need to talk."

Uh-oh. "Err...okay. What about?"

"About us."

Harry had an odd feeling in his stomach just then. "Us? What...what about us?" he asked.

Cho paused thoughtfully. "It's just that..." she shook her head. "Harry, we've been seeing a lot of each other this summer. I enjoy being with you. A lot. I just—I just want to know how you feel about me. Really."

Harry blushed. "Well, I, er..." He cleared his throat. "I like you a lot, Cho. I mean, er..."

"As more than friends?" Cho asked. "And please, be honest. I need to know."

Harry looked down, and almost too softly to hear, said, "I really like you a lot, Cho. I—" He glanced up at her, somewhat miserably. "I want to be more than friends with you." He fell silent then, looking as though he thought he was about to be punished.

Cho reached out and grasped his hand in hers. "Harry." He looked up. "I'm glad."

"You—you are?"

Cho nodded. "I'm glad, because I...I want to be more than friends too." She blushed slightly. "I just needed to know if—if you felt the same."

"Cho..." Harry looked up—

And his eyes widened as her lips met his. It was a shy, tender kiss, not the sort you saw on television or in movies, and it was really rather brief, but for a single, perfect moment, Harry thought his heart might explode from sheer joy.

She leaned away from him slightly, and he looked into her dark eyes, which shone with pure, unbridled affection—love?

Harry wrapped his arms around Cho and held her close; she returned his embrace and snuggled tightly against his chest. Neither of them spoke for some time.

They didn't need to.

POWERED BY DREAMHOST