It Had To Be You

Chapter One: Dreams I've Always Had

Harry had begun counting the days that he was due to return to Hogwarts from the summer after his very first year, just weeks before his twelfth birthday. Now, he was past his sixteenth birthday, and there were only a few weeks left until he would be permitted to go to the Burrow, which he'd done two summers before, and attended the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasley family. He would have liked to go to Grimmauld but, even though he'd legally inherited the house, he was not considered a good candidate to live on his own, now that the Death Eaters had broken out of Azkaban, murdered Sirius, and the Ministry of Magic was finally on board with the knowledge that Voldemort was back, although Fudge had been sacked shortly after the school year had ended.

Harry still had dreams, but unlike ones he'd had in the past. Thankfully, he was no longer embodying Nagini, the dreadful familiar of the madman who had marked him for death as a fifteen-month-old. He still saw things from Voldemort's point of view, however, and, after a particularly awful nightmare, where he had witnessed him giving the Dark Mark to none other than Draco Malfoy, it was truly a harrowing experience. When his alarm blared promptly at six a.m., Harry shoved himself out of bed, gathering up a tattered, oversized outfit he'd inherited from Dudley, and quickly put it on, all the while hearing Uncle Vernon tramp down the hallway outside his bedroom, unlocking his door, and barking at him to get a move on with cooking his breakfast before he left for work.

Summers weren't so bad, now that he had stuff to look forward to from September until June, and didn't attend the Muggle school down the road. Letting himself out of his bedroom, Harry took the opportunity to use the bathroom, before he traipsed downstairs and moved into the kitchen, listening to his uncle prattle on about wanting eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee for his morning meal. Harry got to work straight away, managing to multi-task when Aunt Petunia arrived soon thereafter, Dudley just behind, while his aunt demanded an English muffin and some eggs, while Dudley wanted a traditional fry-up.

Harry had always detested the wallpaper throughout the house, but none so more than the kitchen wallpaper. It was stained from cooking oil and age, and the lemons surrounded by flowers looked as if they'd been swathed in almost two decades' worth of grease. Shaking his head, he hastily plated up the three breakfasts, and poured Uncle Vernon's coffee, Aunt Petunia's tea, and Dudley's orange juice. He remained silent and tight-lipped throughout the ordeal, and his aunt gave him a nod, letting him know that he would be permitted to select a piece of fruit. Opting for an apple, Harry walked outside into the backyard, knowing that he wouldn't be permitted to eat in front of his relatives, and began to take inventory of what needed work.

Uncle Vernon announced his departure shortly thereafter, and Dudley followed suit, going to meet Piers and his other friends to potentially terrorize some ten-year-olds. Harry was called back into the kitchen by his aunt, disposing of his apple core in the yard waste bin, and told to do the dishes that couldn't go into the dishwasher. She then announced that she would be going to the shops, informing him that Vernon had requested beef wellington that evening, and Harry's stomach lurched automatically at the thought of such a heavy meal at this time of year.

He vaguely continued to listen to her as he scrubbed the dirty dishes, assuring her with a simple nod of his head that he understood what his chores that day were—weeding, mowing the lawn, vacuuming, and dusting—and that they would have to be done by five, in preparation for his uncle's return at six, and then be on hand to wash the dishes; his aunt had apparently decided to make lunch and dinner that day. Harry gave a final nod as his aunt left, her pocketbook clutched in her hand, and made her way into town to the shops.

Harry finished the task handed to him, attempting to ignore the heat that seemed to plague Little Whinging at this time of year, and was relieved when the dishes were clean. He then set to work on the yard, not wanting to leave it until the afternoon, when the sun would be high in the sky and the task more difficult. He was finished with the yard in two hours, by which time Aunt Petunia had returned from the shops, and, reluctantly, gave her nod for Harry to return inside to complete his inside chores. Vacuuming was next, as his aunt had gone to a friends' house for tea, and wouldn't disturb her watching her soaps. Once that task was done, Harry returned the cleaning instrument into its proper place—the cupboard under the stairs—and set to work on the dusting, which he completed in under an hour.