Sweet Sixteen

TITLE: Sweet Sixteen
RATING: NC-17
AUTHOR: Andarta Wildhearth
E-MAIL: andarta_wildhearth@adelphia.net
SUMMARY: This is a PWP one-shot in which Harry goes on an unexpected vacation, reunites with an old friend and teammate, and...ahem, ahem...loses...ummm...something. All the action in this fic is het (sorry folks, maybe next time.) But still, there’s lots and lots of sex...
PAIRING: HP/AJ, references to FW/AJ
GENRE: PWP/Angst/First Time/Romance
DISCLAIMER: I own none oat Iat I am writing about nor do I make any monetary gain from said writing.
NOTE: Special thanks to Beth, my beta, for helping me become a better writer!

SWEET SIXTEEN


The last place on earth Harry Potter thought he would be the week of his sixteenth birthday was on vacation, at the beach, with the Dursleys.

The week before, Uncle Vernon (with a very unpleasant expression on his face) sat Harry down at the kitchen table. It was obvious the man was incredibly upset about something.

“Lisboy,boy, we’re going on vacation, and Petunia seems to think that for your own well being, you’d better come with us. Now, I will not talk of any weird nonsense as to why you’ll be safer with us. Petunia insists and besides, I’m not going to leave you here for a week on your own only to come home and find the place destroyed for one reason or another.” Vernon bristled as if he could not believe the words coming from his mouth.

“I could stay with Mrs. Figg, if you’d prefer,” Harry suggested, hoping Uncle Vernon would agree. Harry definitely did not want to spend time traveling with Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon Dursley. He grimaced when he thought of the last time he traveled with them.

“No, your aunt insists you are to stay close to her. Now go on before I change my mind.” Vernon absently waved Harry away.

“Where are we going?”

“Marge’s villa in Majorca.”

So there Harry sat, in a chaise on the patio in the late morning warmth. He ned oed on some toast as he looked out over the countryside to the beach and the Mediterranean beyond. He had been smart and avoided sunburn by using a combination of muggle and magical sunscreens from Hermione and Ron, respectively. Leave it to a dentist’s daughter and the youngest son in a family of pale-skinned redheads to be experts on how NOT to get scorched by the sun. Harry laughed to himself as he pictured both of them with chartreuse smudges of zinc oxide on their noses. He wished they were with him to make his stay on the island more pleasant.

“Hey dad, take a look at the bum on that one, and tits to go with it!” Harry overheard Dudley say at the patio breakfast table.

“Wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that, now, would you boy?” Vernon asked as he slapped his son on the back. Lucky for them, Aunt Petunia was inside putting on her face.

Harry wondered how on earth he could be related to such a pair of pigs, but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned to glance at the woman his uncle and cousin had chosen to ogle this morning.

In the pool below, Harry saw a young woman swimming. Her brown skin had a hue of gold as it glowed in the morning sun. Harry looked at his forearm, which was just beginning to show the telltale signs of a tan from the past few days. But this girl’s skin looked quite tanned, and quite...tempting.

Harry could only see her from the back as he noticed how her dark hair fell and floated around her in the water. It was done in hundreds of intricate braids, some of which had groups of colored beads at the ends. Harry smiled as he remembered another girl who wore her hair in that fashion.

‘Toughest girl I ever met, except for Hermione sometimes, maybe,’ he thought. ‘Boy, could she kick ass on the Quid...,’ but then he stopped in mid-thought. The girl in the pool turned around. He could see her face now...

“Oi! Angelina!” he yelled out automatically as he jumped up and waved at her.

Angelina Johnson looked up at the patio. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she cocked her head to the side and smiled.

“Harry? Harry Potter? Is that you?” she laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?” he laughed back. Vernon and Dudley were stunned.

“I didn’t know you knew any girls,” Dudley stammered in disbelief. Harry rounded the table and began to walk briskly toward the pool.

“Well, yeah, I do,” he said, unable to hide his grin.

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be a total loss after all...

Harry was glad he did not hear any protests from his uncle and cousin as he approached his former schoolmate. Angelina Johnson was now a witch of the world since graduating from Hogwarts the month prior, and she looked every bit the part as she propped her arms on the edge of the pool with a smug smile, waiting for Harry to reach her.

“Fancy running into you here, Potter. Vacationing with the relatives, I see...want me to give them the evil eye for you?” Now she just smiled at him outright.

“Please, feel free.” He motioned to the still-dumbfounded pair on the patio. “And while you’re at it, toss a few hexes their way for me too.” Angelina purposefully waved at Uncle Vernon and Dudley as they were still staring rudely.

“Your cousin does look kind of piggish, actually,” she laughed as she nodded at them. Harry sat on the edge of the pool and dangled his legs in the cool water. His leg was now touching her elbow. “It’s good to see you, Harry. It’s good to see you smile.”

Harry looked down at the girl next to him. She looked different, although he could not decide how so.

“It’s good to see you too, Angelina.”

Harry and Angelina spent the rest of the morning alternately soaking in the pool and then in the sun as they caught up with each other. He found it easy to talk to her, easier than at Hogwarts. Maybe it was the air of weightlessness on an island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, or maybe it was simply the absence of the oppression he felt at Hogwarts over the past year. But it did feel good to just talk; and talk they did, about Quidditch, and Umbridge, and so many of the other things that had taken place.

“You really were quite nasty last year, angry all the time,” Angelina agreed.

“I was just going through a lot of shit last year, Ange, a whole lot of shit,” he said. They lay side-by-side on towels as the droplets of water warmed and evaporated from their bodies.

“Well, we girls were all just hoping you’d go ahead and get your period so you’d quit PMS-ing so much. Either that, or get laid,” she snickered.

“What? Get laid? Angelina, you’re kidding, right?” Harry’s face burned, but not with the sun’s warmth.

“Nope, we were hoping Cho would take care of things for you, but apparently not.”

“Apparently not? And exactly who was it, talking about whether or not Cho and I...,” Harry became so self-conscious he could not finish his sentence.

“Try all of Gryffindor!” Angelina laughed aloud.

Harry could not believe what he was hearing.

“And to what conclusion did all of Gryffindor come?” he asked, exasperated, as he covered his face with his hands and peeked through his fingers.

Angelina sat up and looked Harry straight in the face.

“That you, Harry Potter, need a good shagging, with or without Cho Chang.” Angelina giggled.

He could have died, right there, of embarrassment.

“Oh Merlin, this is awful,” he groaned.

“Not really,” Angelina said softly...

Somehow, Angelina talked Harry out of suicide during their very late lunch (or more like early dinner) at the beach that afternoon. She made him feel like the situation was not as desperate as he thought it was...that him being, well, not all that experienced wasn’t, well, all that bad.

“You seem pretty confident about all this,” Harry said as they looked through a pile of shells in a souvenir shop. Angelina fixed her eyes on him. “How did you get that way? So confident, I mean,” he asked absently, staring at the sand dollar he held in his hands. When he realized the personal nature of his question, he stopped suddenly and dropped the sand dollar, his eyes wide. “Oh gods! Angelina, I’m so sorry. Er...this is of of my business. Damn it all! Why don’t we just change the subject? I can’t believe we’ve been talking about sex all day long, like it was nothing at all,” he broke off.

The two of them stood by the shell display in silence.

“It’s not nothing, not really...I mean, that...it is...something, really,” Angelina whispered while looking at the exhibit in front of them.

“Oh,” Harry whispered back, his eyes now set on the same display of sea treasures. He felt the sudden urge to take her hand in his. He sensed an unexpected loss in Angelina’s self-assurance and he feared he had insulted her virtue with his flippant attitude. Harry followed his impulse and reached down to entwine his fingers with hers while still looking forward. “I’m sorry, Ange.”

Silence followed, then...

“Fred,” she whispered.

“What?” Harry turned his head to her and studied Angelina’s strong profile; his brows knit together as he saw a single tear drift down her cheek.

“Fred,” she now looked at Harry and defiantly wiped away the tear. “You asked me how I got to be so confident about this whole sex thing, didn’t you? Well, the answer is Fred.” Harry saw fresh tears in her eyes.

“Er,” Harry stuttered. He was confused.

“We used to be a couple, not that it mattered, really. He always insisted we keep it a secret.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry whispered, shocked.

“I’m not surprised! Nobody EVER knew!e lae laughed, but this laugh sounded bitter. “Oh, the great Fred Weasley, he had to maintain his ‘jester’ reputation at all cost. If the school knew he was in a serious relationship, it would tarnish his image, not that he didn’t do that just fine all by himself!”

Harry looked into her dark brown eyes and saw how wounded she was.

“He broke it off with me last March...said that he and George had a lot going on and it wasn’t fair to keep me waiting.” Another silent tear. But unlike the discomfort he felt around Cho during moments like this, Harry wanted to protect Angelina, maybe because they had once been teammates. He felt the overpowering need to comfort her, to shelter her. Harry reached out and captured Angelina in his embrace.

“Let’s get you back to your villa,” he spoke softly in her ear.

As if the weather reflected Angelina’s disposition, a light shower began to fall when she and Harry left the shop. Just their luck, caught with no umbrella as they hurried down the stone sidewalks of the little township. Lights were coming on in the windows of the quaint buildings. Night was beginning to fall.

The pair was thoroughly soaked by the time they reached Angelina’s cottage.

“I’ll get some towels and blankets,” she said as she walked to the back room.

Angelina returned, wearing a thick cotton bathrobe.

“You can stay with me for a while, until the rain stops, if you’d like.”

“Ink Ink I might like that,” Harry replied as he looked at her.

When Harry returned from the bathroom, now much drier and warmer, Angelina was sitting on the couch, staring thoughtfully at a small fire in the fireplace. He sat on the couch next to her, leaving a small space between them. They were both quiet.

“I’m sorry I’m so gloomy right now,” she said as she finally looked over to him.

“That’s all right. I’m sorry for being such an insensitive prat earlier,” he smiled shyly. “And I’m sorry about you and Fred.” Harry moved his arm to the back of the couch and subtly turned toward her. She shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked, once again concerned.

Angelina looked at him for several silent moments, her eyes searching his face.

“Yes,” she replied finally.

“What?” he asked, distracted in her brief silence.

“Yes, Harry, I’m cold,” she answered. He felt a deeper meaning to her words. He closed the small space between their bodies and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close as he hugged her to him and kissed the side of her head.

“I’m so sorry, Ange,” he whispered. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small sand dollar. “Look, I got you something for your birthday,” he smiled, trying to cheer her.

“My birthday’s not until almost Halloween, but thank you anyway.” Angelina smiled and took the small trinket in her hands. “I’ll treasure it always,” she said. “But I didn’t get you anything at all for your birthday! When is your birthday, anyway?”

Harry grinned impishly.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Try me,” she smiled. She was finally smiling again.

“O.K. then, tomorrow. Tomorrow is my birthday.”

“No it’s not, you’re just playing with me now,” she said.

“No, I’m not. I’m serious; my birthday is July 31st. No kidding, really.”

Angelina’s features softened and she gently battedhis his chest.

“Then shame on you for not telling me sooner. I could have gotten you a present today, but now the shops will all be closed.”

“You don’t have to get me anything, Ange. Just spending the day with you is the best present you could have given me,” he said.

She pulled back from his arms and looked into his eyes.

“What time is it, Harry?”

“I don’t know, ten, maybe ten-thirty.”

“Then I still have a few hours before your birthday’s here?” she continued.

“Uh-hmm.” He wondered what she was getting at.



Then Angelina Johnson did the most astounding thing...

She reached her hand up to Harry’s face, so tentatively, and caressed his check. The tips of her fingers slowly moved across his face where they met the sensitive shell of his ear. Harry’s eyes drifted shut and he sighed into the space between the two of them. As Angelina interlaced her fingers into his hair, he felt her breath close to his lips as he sensed her moving toward him.

“Angelina,” he whispered as he pushed forward to finish off the distance between them.

And she kissed him. Angelina Johnson kissed Harry Potter.

And he kissed her back.

He thought of the unlikelihood of his current situation as he surrendered to her. So unlike Cho. So full of life, so full of fight, so full of passion. And he wanted that; he wanted that life, that fight, that passion, for himself. Fuck Fred Weasley and his stupid choices. How could Fred have ever pushed her, pushed this, away? He had to remember to thank Fred the next time he saw him. Damn fool.

‘Angelina Johnson has the most incredible mouth,’ he marveled as he took the time to cup her face between his hands. An overpowering feeling of loss possessed him as she began to pull away from him.

“Oh Merlin, Angelina, you feel so wonderful,” he murmured against her cheek. Her closeness was doing strange things to him. Things he should have been embarrassed about. But this time, Harry was not uncomfortable in the least as he pressed forward, pleading with her to lie back for him.

“Please, Angelina,” he quietly begged.

She acquiesced, and reclined as she clung to him, convincing him to follow her. Their kiss deepened, her lips full of promise and hope. Angelina glided her hands from his hair down to his neck where the skin met cloth. She pushed her hands beneath the material of his robe, as if she was frantically searching for the warmth and affection that would relieve her heartache.

Harry hissed as he felt the cloth pulling away from his shoulders, replaced by her hands.

“I don’t have anything on under this,” he hesitated as he nuzzled the flesh of her neck, below her ear. “Ange, we should stop.”

“Yes, we should,” she murmured as she laved the skin at the base of his throat, alternately biting and sucking.

“But we aren’t going to, are we?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“No, we aren’t,” she sighed as she arched her body upward. Any hope of him being able to stop, of him being able to end this, shattered, all with that one movement.

“But what about Fred?” Harry cursed himself before the words were finished.

Angelina looked up at him and laced her fingers on either side of his neck, her thumbs coming to rest in front of his ears. The look in her eyes overwhelmed him.

“Fred Weasley isn’t here,” she spoke quietly, resolutely. “We are; you and I. I need this, Harry. I need to give this to you.” As her words dissipated, he felt her hips roll against his own and he gasped as his hardness was caught between them. She rolled her hips again and he shuddered in breathless anticipation.

He realized that it was now his turn to give favor to her body. He became uncertain as he searched her eyes.

“Angelina,” he began, “I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. I’ve never been like this with a girl. Hell, I’ve barely even had my first kiss.” He laughed quietly in his nervousness.

“Just do what comes naturally, Harry, and don’t worry so much. You’re doing just fine so far.” She kissed him once more as she cradled his head in her hands.

He decided to take a chance and slowly slid a hand from her throat to the center of her chest, wedging his fingers beneath the fabric. Her brown skin was captivating, and he feathered his fingers across it, pushing the collar of her robe aside, exposing her breasts to him. As his hand lingered over their soft roundness, he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe in deeply.

Harry bit his bottom lip in concentration. He willed his hand to move slowly, softly; this was Angelina’s bosom, not some doorknob to be yanked at or a radio tuner to be twisted carelessly. He gently squeezed the flesh of the bottom curve of her breast as he dragged his thumb across its nipple. Her moan was quiet as he curiously tweaked the tip again before leaning down to catch it in his mouth. His tongue circled the puckered center and he felt the sensations of his own whimpers vibrate across her skin.

“Oh gods, you’re so gentle.” She lowered her head to him. Harry raised his head to look at her.

“Not gentle, just scared to death,” he smiled and looked back down at her chest, still not believing that this was happening to him. He lowered himself to pay homage to her other breast. Now it was time for Angelina to bite her lip in response as Harry’s mouth and tongue caressed her.

“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered.

Spurred on by her advice, Harry dragged his teeth across the taught nipple and nipped as she cried out. Then he sucked hard against her as if trying to draw a golden strand of energy through her and from her. He wondered in his enthusiasm, if he would leave marks on her body.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” she moaned as she reached for the tie to his robe and pulled at it impatiently, clumsily.

Harry pulled his mouth from her bosom and adjusted his weight as he balanced on one hand to assist her with the knot at his waist. After he pushed his bathrobe away, he stared with longing at her body below him. He was naked, and strangely unashamed, and he wanted her to be the same. He sat up a bit and lovingly moved to undo the loop to her wrap. His hands were shaking. She smiled. Harry could only and and stare in amazement as the cloth fell away and her body was fully revealed to him.

“Oh, Ange...Fred’s an effing idiot, you’re absolutely beautiful,” he said softly.

Harry’s hands were still shaky and tremors traveled up his shoulders as he suddenly glanced at the floor. Angelina’s hand reached for his chin and forced to lto look at her face. She grinned, an expression that reassured him.

“It’s O.K., Harry.” She once again leaned forward into his kiss.

This kiss more confident and penetrating than earlier ones...

She reclined once more and Harry felt as if he were falling from a great height from his Firebolt. The awareness of her skin and her body fully pressed beneath his own overpowered him...the sensation of skin upon skin, face to face, chest to chest as their legs entwined, serpentine.

“This is better than Quidditch,” he whispered as he rocked his body forward and felt her respond to him.

Harry positioned one of his forearms under her shoulder so he could lean his weight against his elbow and free his hand to delicately stroke the skin at the nape of her neck. His other hand sketched lazy circles on her hip. Her hand soon found his and she silently implored him to move his fingers lower. He understood her request.

“Angelina...I don’t...I don’t know what to do,” Harry confessed awkwardly.

“Yes, yes you do,” she whispered into his mouth. She covered his fingers with her own and impelled him to go on. As his fingers inched closer to her, she tilted her hips to meet his touch. He was caught in the heady feeling of elation as his palm covered her mound, her hand over his. Then she let go and grabbed his shoulder as he slipped a finger between her folds.

Moisture, wetness, and he ground his erection against her and was met with the soothing pressure of her hip. As he explored her most intimate region, he slowly slid one finger and then a second into her sheath.

“See, you do know what you’re doing,” she gasped against his ear and arched herself into his hand and spread her legs to accommodate his movements. He shifted his fingers inside her, pulling them out before slowly pushing them back as she glared wildly at him. He felt his forehead glisten with a sheen of sweat and his face flush with passion. As his actions continued, Angelina opened her mouth. She panted and grasped his arm to encourage him further.

They rocked against each other as they each tried desperately to forget and to remember, both at once, a hurt and pain neither had quite realized existed. A healing spell was unconsciously cast in the dim firelight under those welcoming caresses.

Angelina reached again for his hand and guided him away from her opening. Harry looked at her, confusion overtaking him. She went to speak.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, Harry,” she began as he looked back at her in want. “And if you remember this secret, you’ll know what you need to do to please a girl...you know...when you’re with someone like this.” She guided the tips of his fingers up to the apex of her sensitivity. Harry felt the nub of flesh slide under his fingers just before she bucked unconsciously. He tested this new knowledge by wriggling his fingers across this place as he watched her reactions.

It was as if he now had the wisdom to change metal into gold, or possessed the power of life over death, as she began to move beneath him. And he continued his ministrations to this, her most vulnerable and sensitive spot. She strained beneath him as he licked and bit her neck and suckled her breasts and continued his playful touches; sometimes pressing her center softly and gently in strokes and traces, sometimes circling harshly and roughly with pinches and demanding force.

And then she unexpectedly cried out, a harsh and breathless gasp. Harry knew that it was not from pain or fear, but from pleasure and desire as her climax flooded through her. He knew at least that much without having to be told; that moment when a woman was her most beautiful, her most vulnerable, her most untamed.

As she calmed beside him, he reached up to brush a stray braid from her face. His heart flooded with compassion.

In the middle of his own selfish desire and misery, from the center of his being and all he had lost in the year before, Harry knew that the girl in his arms was suffering mercilessly, from more loss than he ever wanted to feel. At that moment, he thanked Merlin that he didn’t have to suffer from a broken heart as well.

“He’ll come back to you, Angelina,” Harry whispered, his face so close to hers. “I know he will.”

She shivered at Harry’s words.

“Make me forget, please, make me forget,” she begged him as she drew him atop her. “Make me forget him, at least until he decides to remember me again,” she pleaded.

Harry knew with great certainty exactly what she was asking of him. He wanted this and needed this as well. So much pain had possessed his life since the last task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament over a year ago. He had lost more than he ever thought he had to lose, and when he had been at his emptiest and lowest, he lost even more. There was no more left to give anyone. A boy, the shell of what he once had been. Nothing was left, nothing left to give...

And here she was, the toughest girl he had ever known, mourning more than death; mourning the loss of her own life, her love. Asking him to give her hope. Asking him to make her forget.

And when he decided to do just as she asked him, little did he realize that in the giving, his own despair would be lessened.

With another kiss, Harry grabbed her hips and pressed her roughly against him, his arousal slipping between her folds, brushing past her clitoris. They moaned together as the tip of his hardness quivered against her wetness. Her breath was ragged and unpredictable and he found himself sucking in air with more difficulty than when he pursued the snitch at close range.

He focused, for fear of spending himself too soon, the sensations overpowering his ability to calm down.

“Breathe, Harry, just breathe,” he heard her voice echoing in his ear, the sound appeasing him. She bent her knees and tilted her waist ever so slightly. Harry realized that his penis was now at her entrance.

His next action obvious, yet he still needed to stop and look into her eyes. He had to make sure it was right; it had to be absolutely right. She bit her bottom lip once more and dug her fingers into his shoulders as she nodded her consent.

With a soft cry of desire, he pushed himself into her velvety depths.

Too much...too soon...be still...

Her inner muscles clenched as they encased him. He nuzzled inhe she side of her neck as she sucked in a rough breath and groaned so loudly that he could feel the vibrations of the sound on the skin of her throat.

“Yes, Angelina, he will come back to you,” Harry murmured as her lips found his in rapture.


***


Harry plunged himself into her. As he did, Angelina could hear the precious whimper of lost innocence escaping him.

She recalled, how long ago, yet only yesterday, a different boy lie above her...the only boy...moaning with her...words of love as they left behind their inexperience as one. Purity taken by both and freely given to the other in the darkness of the sixth year boys’ dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, Christmas Night, once upon a time...caught in a fairy tale after the Yule Ball...

And she remembered the very last time she had lain with Fred Weasley as well, the last Hogsmeade visit before Easter, earlier that year. How they had gotten into a fight and ended up staying in the Tower, foregoing the trip...to bask in each other as they made their final peace... How could she have known what he had already decided for her?

Angelina shook away the images of lost love as the boy above her came back into focus.


***


Angelina enfolded Harry in her embrace. He hovered perilously above her, still in his delight as he slowly pulled back from her. Their eyes locked as he kissed her softly and buried himself back against her. He was convinced, nothing in the whole wide world felt like this, including Quidditch.

“This feels...wow,” he laughed as she smiled up at him brightly. He continued to move inside of her, establishing a rhythm, trying to go slowly, and finding it very difficult to do so. The friction that passed between them left him woozy, and he knew he was at his limit. She encouraged him with tender endearments, making him feel more confident in spite of his naïveté. She wriggled herself beneath him, eliciting more passion than he could bear to contain.

And when his excitement reached its crescendo and he could no longer hold back, his climax erupted with such force that he feared he would lose consciousness. Unable to even make the most helpless of sounds with his own voice, only Angelina’s gentle intonations and expressions kept him grounded as his entire body stiffened.

As his dizziness began to recede, Harry kissed her lightly. Then the couple, lost in unexpected solace, snuggled down into each other with tender caresses and gentle words and gradually drifted into a still and dreamy sleep...


***


Angelina Johnson checked out of her villa the next day. Her schedule was already planned and she was going to portkey back to London, as she had a job interview at the Ministry the following week. Neither she nor Harry were sad at their early morning parting as they briefly kissed before she left. This final kiss more brotherly than the ones that had passed between them the night before. A private understanding connecting them, a knowledge only they were ever to be privy.

Angelina smiled as she watched him sneak back to the villa across the way. He turned before entering to cast a last wave and look to her. And then he was gone.

A pang of guilt plucked her heart at what she had taken from him. Would he one day regret comforting her in such a way or would he remember her fondly in the years that were ahead of him? Would he ever really know just how much he had comforted and consoled her? The hope he had unknowingly given to a broken hearted girl...

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” she whispered as she turned to pack her things.


***


Harry grinned as he waved one last time at the woman across the way. He hoped his aunt and uncle were asleep so he could avoid the screaming lecture he knew would eventually come. He tiptoed to the couch and pretended to sleep.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not after that, not after last night. He thought of her bronze body shuddering below his and the corner of his mouth crept into a slight smile as he adjusted one of the couch pillows for his head. Fred Weasley was one lucky man.

Harry had meant every word. There was no way Fred would stay away, not from that. He was sure of it. Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson, who’d have thought?

Harry smiled as he rolled to face the back cushions of the couch. He knew now what Angelina meant when she asked him how many hours they had before his birthday. She wanted to give him the gift of physical satisfaction, but did she realize how much more it had become? She helped him forget the sadness that had possessed him for longer than he cared to remember, if only for a moment.

But even more, she helped him realize that he wasn’t alone. Even in his own pain and hurt, he still had the power to help and to heal. Maybe that was the kind of hero he needed to be right now, instead of the kind running to duel with some dark lord.

She gave him the gift of knowing he had the power to comfort others...

“Happy Birthday, Angelina,” he murmured before he fell asleep.