Green & Gold

Saturday, September 8th, 2003

“Harry! You made it!”

Harry waved in a very awkward greeting once he found the spot on the beach Jacob had told him that he would be at today. It hadn’t even been hard to find really, Harry just parked his car at Billy’s and followed the sound of laughter and the smoke that twirled up in to the darkening sky.

It wasn’t that Harry necessarily regret coming now either, it was just that...

Yes.

Yes he did regret it.

Because there were roughly a dozen curious faces scattered loosely around a large fire, all staring at him, and Harry only knew the one. But, Harry told Jacob he would come and he did.

“C’mon,” Jacob waved Harry over impatiently as Harry hesitated under the weight of his friends’ stares. “I’ll introduce you.”

Harry stood next to the log that Jacob was using as a seat as he pointed out various classmates of his, rattling off names too quickly for Harry to really catch. They others only gave Harry silent nods as Jacob said their names, none of them seemed eager to talk to him. Harry did take notice of Embry and Quil, Jacob’s best friends he’d heard about before. He also noticed a girl, Leah, whose shoulders had a morose slump and who was seated next to a younger boy, Seth.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Harry said, desperate to break the awkward tension that his arrival brought to the group. “I’ve never been to a party on a beach before.”

Which, apparently, was the right thing to say because the others made noises of incredulous disbelief and finally began speaking to him.

“Are there no beaches in England?” Quil, the shorter and stockier of Jacob’s friends, demanded.

In the back of his mind, Harry noticed Quil’s thick stature and decently muscular arms and thought that he’d make an excellent beater if he ever played quidditch.

“Er, not where I was,” Harry admitted.

“God your accent is weird!” an older student, perhaps Harry’s age, as opposed to Jacob’s fifteen years, laughed.

“That’s real nice Paul, make fun of the pale face kid,” the girl with the long black braid and sad eyes, Leah, scowled.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, fully aware that he was the odd man out here in more ways than one. Luckily, Jacob would have been a prime candidate for Hufflepuff as he loyally stuck up for his cousin.

“Paul you’re just jealous because I bet Harry’s accent pulls more babes than your donkey voice ever could,” he said with a mocking grin. “And his name is Harry, my cousin, so knock it off guys.”

“Oooh,” Paul wiggled his fingers as he scoffed, but he also offered Harry a cheery smile that gave Harry the courage to go ahead and sit with the others.

“How do you like Forks?” Embry asked Harry while most of the other gathered students broke off in to their own side conversations.

“It’s fine,” Harry shrugged. He remembered a question he had for Jacob though and figured he might as well bring it up now, “What does it mean if a cop says he’s giving you a ticket? What’s it a ticket to?”

Jacob, Embry, and the other nearby students, roared with laughter at Harry’s genuine question. Harry would have been offended, except it seemed more as if they were laughing because he was funny and not as if they were making fun of his ignorance on muggle problems.

“Did you finally get pulled over?” Jacob asked once he had finished laughing. His dark brown eyes were lit up with mirth and he shook his head with mock-disapproval at Harry. “Charlie caught you doing 65 in a 30, didn’t he?”

“Er...” Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and gave Jacob a sheepish smile. “Ran a stop sign right in front of him actually.”

“Oh my god.” Harry laughed along with the others this time, his mood more steady and calm than it had been in months. Though if that was due to the presence of a dozen kids with the outgoing personalities, dark enough skin, and different enough looks to not remind him of anyone dead, or the fact that he slept from one in the morning to seven, he wasn’t sure.

After explaining what a ticket was, which was not an invitation to jail as Harry had wondered but rather a bill that had to be paid, Jacob launched in to stories about teaching Harry to drive to his friends. Harry leaned back in the spot he chose, enjoying the way the grainy, but soft, sand felt when he squished it beneath his fingers.

After Jacob had his friends rolling with laughter from the many mishaps Harry experienced while learning to drive, another older boy came jogging up to the group with his arms filled with brown paper grocery sacks.

“I’ve got food!” he declared victoriously. Jacob and the others let out cheers and slapped the new boy on the back cheerfully as they liberated him from the bags.

“No s’mores Jared?” Paul asked, pushing his lips out in a dramatic pout at the newcomer, who was apparently named Jared.

“Feel free to go spend another $50 on food yourself,” Jared rolled his eyes at Paul and tossed out brightly colored plastic bags to different kids in the group.

“Harry have you ever had hot dogs?” Seth, the youngest boy there, asked Harry as he scooted over beside him.

“Don’t be stupid Seth,” Quil snorted. “He’s from England, not Mars.”

“Er... actually no,” Harry admitted. “Are they really made from dogs?”

Which sparked a fresh wave of laughter throughout the group because apparently no, no they were not made from dogs.

Leah sighed in a rather put upon way, but she also patiently showed Harry how to put the meat on a stick to cook it in the fire.

“You just let it cook until it’s burnt?” Harry asked incredulously as he watched Quil do just that.

“You don’t have to,” Leah said with only a small bite of impatience to her tone. “Some people are just animals.”

Harry snorted, which earned him a small grin from Leah, and he slowly rotated the hot dog in the fire until it was dark brown like Leah’s.

“D’you like it?” Jacob watched Harry taste the hot dog, thick bun, and ketchup combination.

“Yeah,” Harry’s eyes were as surprised as his voice was at the revelation after taking a bite. Jacob looked entirely too cheerful as Harry ate a single hot dog and a handful of ‘chips’, which Harry told them are called crisps, out of a bag someone passed him. Harry wasn’t sure why Jacob was so pleased with him, considering Harry watched as he and his friends ate at least four hot dogs a piece and had friendly wrestling matches over the bags of crisps.

The sun was low over the ocean, the violet and orange color of the sky mimicked in the calming dark waters. Harry felt incredibly at peace as he leaned back on the sand and stared out at the dark waters.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Embry threw himself on the sand beside Harry and looked out over the water with him.

“It’s peaceful,” Harry admitted.

’You must not hurt Harry Potter!’

‘Harry... Potter...’

Glazed round eyes, staring up at the boy who got him killed with the ocean slamming against the cliffside as the background music as life fled his tiny body.

‘Here lies Dobby; a free elf.’

Dobby. His friend. His terribly brave friend forever buried next to the sea. The scent of salt heavy in the air next to the headstone Harry created for him.

“-stupid though.”

“Er...” Harry shook his head to clear away the grief that the reminders of Dobby’s funeral brought on. “I’m sorry,” he told Embry, who was watching him curiously. “I didn’t hear you, what’s stupid?”

“Cliff diving,” Embry repeated himself easily, not drawing attention to the oddity that was Harry’s spacey behavior. “I said that a lot of kids jump from those cliffs-“ he pointed at a cliff that rose high in the air, fir trees at the top and endlessly deep water at the bottom. “-but it’s stupid though.”

“They jump off that?” Harry had never heard of anything more insane in his life.

And he fought a dragon.

“The crazy ones, like Jared and Paul, jump from the very top,” Quil said, overhearing the two softly spoken boys’ conversations and jumping in. “The rest of us normal people,” he elbowed Paul with a teasing smile, “jump from down there.”

Harry saw where Quil pointed at, a much more sane space to jump from where a trail led to another cliff top only halfway as high in the sky as the one ‘crazy people’ jump from. But Harry’s eyes kept flicking back up to the top cliff.

He bet that jumping from there would feel just as good as flying.

It would be like his Quidditch match in his third year, except Harry would be choosing to fall 50 feet instead of being knocked from his broom by dementors.

’Not Harry!’

“That’s bloody crazy,” he breathed, turning an impressed look to Paul, who he now believed would be a Gryffindor like himself. “Can I try?”

Paul laughed, as did most of the other Quileute kids, and he reached over and clapped Harry on the shoulder with a perfectly white smile.

“You’re alright kid.”

The ‘friendly razzing’, as Jacob whispered to him as explanation, Harry got for the rest of the night was apparently the groups way of accepting him. Which was weird, but Harry had no problem ‘razzing’ them back either. And instead of the never ending flow of jokes making anyone upset or defensive, it seemed to just make everyone laugh and bond more.

By the time Harry headed home that night, the sky entirely black aside from the twinkling stars and glowing moon, it was with promises to go cliff diving, future bon fires, and Jacob said the next time the Quileute Tribe that they all belonged to had a get together that he’d make sure the ‘nephew of Billy Black’ got an invite.

Harry was worn out, his car swerving dangerous from side to side as he negligently drove it, but surprisingly pleased as well. It had been nice to pretend to be a different person for a while. A person who made friends who wouldn’t die just for associating with him, a person who joked around and shared superficial laughter with others.

A normal person.

He could feel the long carried weight in his chest returning the further he got from the reservation, but a small part of him was optimistic that maybe he would sleep again tonight as he had last night. Sleep, it seemed, did wonders for his overall outlook.

As he entered his house, and checked that he had floo powder still in the bowl above his fireplace for in the morning, Harry thought that at a minimum his friends would be pleased to hear about his day. He slept, he socialized, he ate.

He also drank conspicuously from one of the dwindling bottles in his liquor cabinet, but Hermione didn’t need to know about that.

Harry laid in bed, hopeful to once again dream of clear skies, his friends laughter, and topaz colored eyes, but that wasn’t in the cards for him.

By one he drifted off in to an alcohol induced sleep.

At two thirty he was wrenched awake by cold red eyes, flashing green lights, and cold laughter.

By seven he was nursing a hangover and caffeine buzz as he waited for his floo to flare up.

“Harry!”

Harry jumped up from his spot on the chair, his heart racing with excitement rather than fear, as Hermione’s face appeared in his floo at precisely eight o’clock.

“Mione,” Harry knelt down on the floor beside the fire and gave one of his closest friends a small, but genuinely pleased, smile. “How are you? How’s Ron?”

“Busy,” Hermione laughed and even through the flames Harry could see her eyes were gleaming with enthusiasm. “Hold on- let me- RON! IT’S YOUR MUM!”

Harry lifted a brow at that, he bloody well was not Ron’s mother, but Hermione immediately explained herself in a hushed whisper.

“I’m not going to go screaming your name across the common room,” she rolled her eyes. “I’d get stunned just so people could shove me out of the way and gawk at you.”

“Oh,” Harry shuddered at the very accurately described image. “Thanks Mione.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled and studied Harry’s face carefully. “How are you? Really?”

“I went to a party last night,” Harry said, not keen on discussing himself much. “And I’m going to a friends house to study today.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione beamed at him, as pleased as Harry knew she would be. And as distracted by this new information as he had hoped. “That’s wonderful! What was the party like? Who’s your new friend? What are you studying? When-“

“Breathe,” Harry laughed as Hermione fired questions off at him. “It was a ‘bon fire’ party with Jake and his friends. They had it on a beach and taught me to cook hot dogs in the fire. And her name is Alice, she’s helping me get caught up in my classes.”

Hermione was relieved to hear that Harry wasn’t spending all his free time just drinking alone in his house, trapped in a bitter shell-shocked depression, and she told him so.

“I’m not happy that you’re behind your classmates of course, but I am happy someone’s helping you get caught up,” she said. “I’m sorry Harry, I should have realized you’d have such a large gap in muggle education. Is it very frustrating?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Hermione as he slowly replayed her words in his mind.

“Do you not have a large gap in your muggle studies?”

Hermione looked surprised, and a bit insulted, at his question.

“Of course not,” she said with a Percy Weasley-like haughtiness to her tone. “I spent my summers with my parents studying muggle courses as well as magical.”

“Oh.”

Harry had spent his summers studying neither, as he was constantly either locked in a room without books or meals, or outside working himself to exhaustion, also without meals.

“But here’s Ron,” Hermione hastily made space in the large fireplace for Ron to pop his head in, her heart aching as she recalled the (incredibly downplayed) way Harry had described his summers in Surrey.

“Hey mate!” Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin as he too studied the still-present bags under his eyes and the heavy way he blinked. “How’s the good old United States?”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, his friends internally scowling at the accursed word. “How are you? How’s your family?”

“They’re good, just trying to get back to normal, you know?” Ron looked momentarily solemn until he grinned mischievously and shook his head at Harry. “I’ve got a message for you from Mum though, and one from Ginny.”

“Let’s hear them then,” Harry sighed. He was sure the females in the Weasley family were worrying about him.

They didn’t need to worry.

Harry was fine.

’As easy and painless as falling asleep.’

“Ahem,” Ron cleared his throat to catch Harry’s attention and adopted a good impersonation of his mums voice. “‘And you tell Harry that I have been worried sick about him! No letters! No floo calls! I’m of half a mind to go to his house myself and let him know that is not how you treat your family! Maybe I’ll do just that! Is treacle tart still his favorite?’”

Harry’s lips twitched despite his exasperation at Molly’s ceaseless concern for him.

“And Ginny?” he asked.

“Ooh, I’ll do this one,” Hermione offered brightly. “‘You tell Harry that I don’t care if he shows up drunk as Mundungus, but I already got permission from Minnie and she said Harry can sit in the teachers section under his damn cloak as long as he shows up to our first match! Oh, tell him I love him, will you?’” Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder in a great mimic of Ginny’s signature move, which drove Harry and Ron to loud peals of laughter.

“Never do that again,” Ron told her. “Merlin. You sound just like her.”

“Who’s Minnie?” Harry asked. He assumed it was the new potions professor-

’Mister Potter, our newest... celebrity.’

‘Look... at... me...’

-but it could be the defense instructor as well. Harry hadn’t expected it to be-

“Headmistress McGonagall,” Hermione giggled. “Ginny keeps calling her Minnie and high giving her in the halls.”

“Dang,” Harry unintentionally used Jacob’s slang that he had picked up from the time they spent together. “Ginny’s just... she’s got bollocks, doesn’t she?”

Harry knew Ginny was one of the bravest people he’d ever met, but to call McGonagall ‘Minnie’ to her face? Merlin.

“McGonagall acts like she’s annoyed by it, but she never docks points so I reckon she secretly likes it,” Ron laughed. “What’d you think though? Will you come? It’s October 7th, at two like usual, but you could come sooner if you wanted to grab lunch? We don’t have to eat here,” he said hastily as Harry’s eyes flashed with pain, “We could go see Rosmerta or Abeforth instead?”

“Well...” Harry was trying to think of an excuse to not come, not expose himself to that kind of misery, when Hermione jumped in as well.

“You could floo to the Burrow and we’d meet you there. Have lunch with the Weasley’s? Pacify Molly and show her that you’re fine? I’ll even bring Polyjuice, you could come to the match as Percy or Arthur or someone, nobody would bother you. Please Harry? We all just miss you terribly.”

“Fine!” Harry threw his hands up in frustration as he was very unfairly teamed up against by his best friends. “What time should I be at the Burrow?”

It took Hermione a few minutes to calculate the time differences, apparently if Harry wanted to be at the Burrow by noon then he had to floo there at four am his time, hardly a hardship thanks to his poor sleeping habits. After they chatted for a bit longer- Harry describing the La Push kids and the Cullen and Hale siblings he had befriended, Hermione and Ron discussing their NEWT course load and the schedules for the eighth years who returned- they finally disconnected with promises to call next weekend and to see him the first weekend in October.

Harry scowled at the fireplace for a few moments, firmly deciding to only speak to one of his friends at a time in the future. They couldn’t team up against him and force promises he didn’t want to make if he only talked to them individually. He nodded with resolve at his decision and checked the time. They had talked for nearly two hours, so Harry still had three hours until he was supposed to be at Alice’s.

Harry drug himself to his room, unsure what he was meant to do for the next few hours. He couldn’t drink, obviously. He didn’t need to do homework because Alice was going to help him, and he’d probably just do it wrong anyway. His place was a wreck, but he didn’t feel much like cleaning.

Instead he just laid back on his bed, thinking. He tried to use the thoughts of the warm and friendly La Push kids to keep away the darker ones that were always waiting just on the edge of his consciousness, but it was a nearly impossible task. He resigned himself to just letting whatever thoughts he had overwhelm him until his alarm alerted him to leave.

’I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.’

‘I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to... let’s say... board a train.’

‘I wanted you to possess them safely. You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die.’

Harry wished life were that easy.

But Dumbledore had always been optimistic to the point of foolish.