A Stolen Past

Harry's Dream Girl

Sam, you may not like it, but I don't care. Lol.

Harry Potter paced the living room of the Burrow. His friends would be returning from school at any time. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had left for King's Cross Station at least two hours ago, after making him swear he wouldn't leave the house. As he paced, his anxiety grew. He was finally going to meet Ron and Hermione in person! Although that probably should have been the most exciting thing about the afternoon, he somehow felt even more anxious to find out if his theory about his 'dream girl' (as Tyler had always called her) was correct. It seemed like so long ago when he had finally concluded that the girl's face that occupied most of his dreams must belong to Hermione. In reality, it had only been a few weeks, but the time seemed to drag by with no lessons to fill up the days. Suddenly, he was jerked from his musings by the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive. After a quick glance out the window to make sure it was the two taxicabs that were supposed to be bringing the Weasleys, Harry dashed outside to meet them.

Before he knew what hit him, he heard a shriek of, "Harry!" and was immediately choked by a rather large amount of bushy brown hair as Hermione enveloped him in an extremely tight embrace. Somewhat awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her in return. As his brain finally caught up with him and he realized exactly who he was hugging, he pulled her closer, enjoying the closeness he felt. A moment later, she pulled away and looked into his face, her hands still gripping his shoulders. Harry's heart sank. The girl in front of him looked familiar, but she was definitely not the same girl whose face had given him an endless supply of hope during the dreary months at St. Brutus's.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked in a concerned voice.

Harry shook himself. "Oh, er, nothing. I'm fine. It's, um, really great to see you."

"Move over, Hermione, let the rest of us tell him hello." A tall, lanky boy with flaming red hair - Ron - gave her a playful shove. "How you doing, mate?" he asked Harry. "Mum and Dad didn't really tell us much - they said it'd be better if we heard everything straight from you, so I hope you're ready to spill your guts." He patted Harry on the shoulder in the way that teenage boys do when they want to hug a friend but feel self-conscious about actually doing it. "We'll talk inside, okay?"

"Sure," Harry said. He watched as Ron lifted his trunk, leaned over to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and then picked up her trunk as well, carrying both of them toward the house. Harry was suddenly very glad that Hermione had not turned out to be the girl he kept dreaming about - if it had been her, things would have been very awkward indeed.

"So, Hermione whispered as soon as Ron was out of earshot, "have you figured out who the mystery girl is?" Her eyes shone with excitement as she waited for his answer.

Harry shook his head as he distractedly watched Mr. Weasley pull a trunk from the luggage compartment of the second taxi and then move forward to pay the driver. His daughter, Ginny, came around from the other side of the car and began dragging the trunk toward Harry and Hermione. When she looked up, her eyes met Harry's, and he suddenly stopped breathing. He was staring into those brown eyes that he could lose himself in forever; every feature of that perfect face he had dreamed about for so long was suddenly right there in front of him, framed by a long mane of flaming red hair.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"It's... her," he whispered, still in a daze.

"It's-" Hermione's widened in comprehension. "You mean it was Ginny?"

Harry nodded dumbly. Ginny stopped several feet away, apparently not wanting to interrupt his whispered conversation with Hermione.

"Well, what are you going to do?" Hermione asked.