Curiousity Killed the Cat

After the episode with Ron, I followed Ginny and Hermione upstairs (wearing a shirt) to the room we had been sharing for most of the summer. Ginny jumped on her bed, begging to hear every detail of the event seeing as she was not aloud to go because she was underage and her mother would have killed her.

Hermione told her everything she could while I changed out of my dirty outfit, rather going for a pair of plaid shorts and a blue tank top with a whale on it. Slipping on a pair of black leg warmers and a grey hat, I turned back to the other two, who were talking about Ron.

“I’m just saying Hermione,” Ginny started, sounding like a tired parent. “I have a feeling he likes you, I mean, what do you have to lose?”

“Uh, six years of friendship?” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

I snickered. “Speaking of Ron, I got you a present Hermione. I mean, I bought these a while back but never knew when they’d come in handy until now!”

I dove into my bag, searching though countless of clothing until I found what I was looking for. I tossed them to Hermione and watched as she lifted them up, her face?

Priceless.

“What are these?” she asked, her face a mixture of embarrassment and pure horror.

“Shorts,” I said, as if it was the most simple thing ever.

“That say ‘Straight A’s’ on the butt?” Ginny said, bursting into a fit of laughter, soon followed by me, and eventually Hermione.

“Girls! Food’s on the table!” Mrs. Weasley called, somehow being heard over our laughs. Our laughter died down when we began to get up, fixing our faces and what not before heading down stairs.

“I’ll meet you guys down there,” I said, trying to hide the yawn that was threatening to escape.

“Sure,” Hermione said before following Ginny, both of them more hungry than I was. Instead, I went back into the room, laid down on the mattress (which due to a couple of spells, we now had two so Hermione and I wouldn’t fight over it) and fell asleep.

Bliss, baby, bliss.

I woke up the next morning, yes I guess I slept that late, to find a still sleeping Hermione and Ginny. Sighing, I pushed myself out of bed, still in the clothing from yesterday, and trudged down the stairs. I quickly tied my hair up into a messy bun… well, an attempted bun which failed miserably. I walked into the kitchen, glad to see that I hadn’t woken up at like seven in the morning, to see Mrs. Weasley preparing breakfast, Ron and Harry waiting like it was the last thing they could eat.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Harry pointed out, grinning at my scowling face.

“I skipped dinner,” I said, taking a sear closest to the coffee. Even though I had been asleep for a long time, doesn’t mean I wasn’t still tired.

“How could you skip dinner?!” Ron asked, as if it was the most surprising thing he had ever heard. I guess food is one of the only things running though his mind…

“I was tired,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. Mrs. Weasley put down some of the food on the table, which meant Ron literally pounced on the plate. Everyone slowly began to come downstairs (Ginny was kind enough to steal my spot when I went to make more coffee). I drained by coffee before heading upstairs, fully aware of the person following me.

Harry grabbed my hand, leading me to what appeared to be Ron’s room or whatever room he was staying in. It was a total mess, not that I expected anything better. I mean, this was Ron we were talking about.

“How’s your side?” he asked, answering my unasked question of why he wasn’t holding my waist like he usually did.

“How did you know?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He grinned. “Ron told me.”

“And what exactly did he tell you…?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That he was unfortunate or fortunate enough to walk in on you when Mrs. Weasley was fixing your side. Although, he never mention something wrong with your side, he just came back up stumbling about you and not having a shirt on,” Harry explained, still grinning.

I felt the blood rush up to my cheeks, painting itself on. “Oh. Well, er, it’s fine now.”

“Really?” he asked, a barely detectable hand sliding under my shirt and running itself down my side.

I arched my back and looped my arms around his neck, pulling him to me rather harshly. “It’s better now.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at me but his grin never left his face. I groaned, tired of seeing that grin. I crashed my lips against his, having not kissed him in at least a month and a half. He returned the kiss just as eagerly as I did, his hands gripping my waist tightly, forgetting about my injured side. Normally I’d blame my hormones for something like this but, to be honest, I have no idea what was doing this to me. Harry? The thrill of this war, if there was any? Or perhaps it was because I’ve gotten older and I’ve noticed Harry in different ways.

Whatever the reason, I was liking this new me.

And I have a feeling Harry was too.

Right now, I’m going to peg the reason to be the thrill of the war, or perhaps it finally dawned on us that we could very well die in the next five seconds. His hands tugged at the bottom of my shirt, clearly bothered by the fabric that was covering the upper half of my body. Too quickly for me to reason, he had slipped the shirt over my head and tossed it on the ground, all while not breaking the kiss. Trying to ignore the sensations that were being sent though my body as his hands touched my lower back, I also removed his shirt, tossing it on the bed.

His hands traveled lower, given his current height advantage, onto my thighs. With a swift jump, I wrapped my arms around his waist, as always, never breaking the kiss. His hands supporting me, occasionally running down my back. It seems like nothing could ruin this moment.

Except…

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley said, the door beginning to creak open. Harry, in a stage of panic, dropped me, causing me to land on the floor (thankfully) behind the bed. Mrs. Weasley walked into the room, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the shirtless boy.

“Oh! Hi Mrs. Weasley. I was just, er, changing,” he stumbled, trying to find an excuse that would work.

“Oh yes, sorry dear! When you‘ve changed, could you find Elyse and tell her to head downstairs. We are going to do a bit of cleaning,” she said, embarrassed before hurrying out of the room, closing the door behind me. I groaned, rubbing my back, which now probably had an imprint of the floor on it, thanks to Harry.

“Sorry about that,” he said, looking down at me, trying to fight the smirk that was inching its way onto his face.

I glared. “Did you have to drop me?”

“What would you have liked me to do? Explain to Mrs. Weasley how I lost my shirt due to you and have you appear from the side?”

“You took my shirt off first!” I argued, pushing myself off of the ground.

Apparently that was enough to make Harry’s smirk clearly visible on his face.

“At least Ron didn’t walk in on you…” he said, trying to shed some light on this.

“Yes, well where is my shirt?” I asked, looking for the blue tank-top I was wearing about five minutes ago.

“Where is my shirt?” he asked, glancing around the room for it.

“Your stuff is, like, right there! My shirt is more important at the moment!” I said, still seeing no signs of blue. “Screw it, give me one of your shirts.”

Harry grinned and tossed me one of his shirts, which turned out to be a plain dark green shirt. I slipped it over my head, tying the side with a hand twist when I figured it was too baggy.

“It smells like boy,” I said, laughing.

“I could have given you one of Ron’s shirts,” Harry said, shrugging.

I think I threw up a bit in my mouth.