Jupiter | Harry James Potter

ii ; nightmares

"Don't go anywhere," Stan grumbled to me as he walked out of the glass doors and pulled a stack of crumpled-up paper out from his pockets.

"'Chu doing down there?" He asked.

"I fell over."

"'Chu fell over for?"

"I didn't do it on purpose." The boy scoffed as he scrambled to his feet. I peered through the window, squinting to try and discern his face, but the darkness had enveloped the street, rendering it pitch black.

"'Chu lookin' at?"

"Nothing."

"Well come on then, we can't wait for the grass to grow." Stan snapped, and the boy started to walk up the stairs.

Harry Potter stood in front of me, and I felt my heart turn over in my chest as it skipped a beat. It's obvious that Harry didn't try to look good. He'd hardly tried to tame his curly black hair, and he was still being forced to wear his cousin's old clothes during the summer- usually, the same old gray flannel and jeans that were held up by a belt. His eyes were emerald green, just like I remembered. They were about the only thing about him that stayed the same. Most of the time, they couldn't even get through a conversation without poking fun at the other or it ending in an argument. Still, just seeing him made me go fuzzy in the head.

I found myself staring at him, which was a little odd considering I'd seen Harry a thousand times. He had always been cute, but he was starting to be seriously handsome. I silently thanked Harry's aunt for not cutting his hair, because puberty had hit him like a bus and his old bowl cut would've done him very dirty.

"Jo?"

Harry was the only person I'd ever let call me Jo. I wasn't quite sure why, but it felt right when he said it. I snapped out of my daze as Harry ran forward and pulled me into a hug.

"Reunion times over. Pay up o' leave, Jo. Same as you." Stan said, setting Harry's trunk down on a rack in front of the last bed. I felt my eye twitch at hearing Stan Shunpike call me Jo.

"I haven't got any money," I repeated as they broke apart to face the acne-filled teenager.

"'Ight, then." He said, grabbing my trunk. "We'll charge ya for the ride to Surrey. You'll get the bill by owl sometime this week."

"Wait, I'll pay for me too," Harry asked, reaching into his pocket. "How much?"

"I can't ask you to-"

"Shut up, Jo." Harry rolled his eyes. "How much?"

"Where ya 'eaded?" Stan asked, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "That's in London."

No shit. I thought. Stan had the same reaction as he rolled his eyes at Harry's obvious statement.

"Twenty-two sickles then."

Harry pulled out a stack of sickles and a few knuts, and handed them to Stan without counting or hesitation.

"What was your name, again?" Stan asked, cautiously taking the gross amount of money that Harry had so nonchalantly given him.

"Longbottom. Neville Longbottom." Harry said, his eyes glaring into Stan's so seriously that even I almost believed him.

"Right. 'Ern, Leaky Cauldron, that's in London."

The bus lurched forward in a flash, and if I hadn't been gripping one of the rickety, golden bed frames, I likely would've been propelled into the glass at the front of the bus. Despite holding on, I still fell forward, and Harry instinctively put a protective arm out to stop me. I silently prayed that I wasn't as red as I felt.