Disclaimer: I own none that you recognize. It's J.K.R's, so if you want it, go ask her.

A/N: sorry for the update delay, but a) my internet keeps on going down (stupid Belkin router) and b)I'm back at school, and right in the middle of midterms, so I'm incredibly busy. This is the first time in about 5 weeks I've had a chance to do anything other than schoolwork, and that's actually only because as I write this, I have no internet (AGAIN!!) and have done all the work that could be done without it. Anyway, that was my list of excuses for being such a bad updater, but here's your story!

On with the Story!

Chapter 6: I'm in your bed because....?

Harry crept silently up the stairs, tired and wanting nothing more than his bed. Yawning widely, he placed his hand on his doorknob and entered his room, shoving off his shoes as he stumbled towards his bed. They'd kept him at Grimmauld Place until three o'clock in the morning, claiming that seeing as it was his birthday (which Harry had entirely forgotten about), they had to give him a party then and there otherwise it would be too late. He had enjoyed himself; who wouldn't enjoy being given presents, cake, sweets and tonnes of other great birthday things? But he couldn't help thinking that Emily was all by herself, waiting for him to come home. Shaking off feelings of guilt, he collapsed onto his bed.

"What?" he mumbled. As he raised his head, a piece of paper came up with it. Slowly peeling it off of his face, he grabbed his glasses, turned a lamp on and quickly scanned it.

Harry, I hope you had a good time at your party - Happy Birthday! Dumbledore told me earlier on that it was your birthday today, but I forgot in the rush of things to wish you a good day – I'm sorry! If it's not too late, I got some cupcakes at work today, so go wild, birthday boy, and eat up! I may even have a present for you (shh it's a secret)! Sorry I didn't get to see you, and Happy 16th Birthday!!!

Luv, Emily

p.s hey, it's your sweet sixteen! Except, no, you're not a girl, so I guess not...uh...never mind.

Harry smiled, then groaned as he thought of all the cake Mrs. Weasley had made him eat that evening, and the small tin of cupcakes that Emily had obviously gone out of her way to buy for him. Thanks, Em! Harry smiled at her postscript – he could practically hear her voice through her words. Sighing, he got up and slipped quietly into her room. Tiptoeing across to her bed, he had just reached his hand out to the covers when he stepped on a loose floorboard. Suddenly a loud 'creeaak!' resounded throughout the room. Harry winced, hoping that he hadn't woken her up. Holding his breath, he peered closer, not trusting the floor to step any further.

"Harry?" Emily's tired face poked out from beneath her thick bedcovers, obviously rather confused as to why she was being woken up at three in the morning. Harry cringed and held up his hands apologetically.

"Sorry, Em. I just wanted to..." he paused, and Emily yawned as she sat up in bed. "No, no, go back to sleep, I'll go, sorry!"

Emily smiled sleepily at him. "No, once I'm up, I'm up. Mmmm." She yawned again, then looked at him more closely. "Are you still – dressed? Did you just get home?"

Harry stuck his hands into his pockets, blushing slightly. "Yeah," he admitted. "The party went late. I – uh – saw your note, Em. Thanks a bunch, by the way. And...um..." Harry blushed furiously. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd come into her room. Emily, however, smirked at him.

"Thanks for checking up on me, Harry." She said, pushing incredibly messy hair out of her face.

Harry stuttered, searching for something relevant to say. "Uh...welcome... your hair looks worse than mine!"

Even in the dark, Harry could see Emily's eyes narrow at him. "Could you - uh -repeat that for me? I'm still pretty sleepy."

Danger! Danger! Danger! Harry shuffled his feet nervously. "You're right Em, you just woke up – which is entirely my fault – here, do you want a hair-tie? I'll get one for you, just tell me where to go."

Emily leaned back against her pillow, laughing slightly. "Hey, thanks, but it's okay. You need to get to sleep yourself, seeing as you just got in. And so do I, for that matter – but tomorrow's my last class of the week!!"

Harry yawned, then grinned at her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going to bed, mum."

"Shut up..." Emily settled herself back into bed and pulled the covers up around her head. "Sleep tight, Harry."

"Night." Harry said, and turned around to leave. Creak! Harry made a half face as he heard Emily's muffled giggle under the covers. Slipping quietly out of the door, he managed to find his way to his bed, stumbling several times in the process. His last thoughts were befuddled and murky as sleep overtook him, and all was quiet in the 'Potter-Gould Residence'.

Harry was so tired the next morning that he slept through Emily's alarm, but all was still silent as Emily quietly got ready and went to work. The house maintained its silent atmosphere even when Harry awoke, the silence undisturbed as he worked on his homework, Hermione's warnings ringing in his ears. In fact, the house retained its quiet, all encompassing silence until exactly nine minutes past two, at which time Emily whooshed back through the fireplace, dropping her bag on the living room floor and loudly proclaiming that she was finished!!

Upstairs in the attic, Harry grinned and shut his textbook – there was no way he'd get the rest of McGonagall's transfiguration essay done with Emily in her current joyous mood. He heard her banging about the house, calling his name and generally stirring things up a bit. Music had already begun to stream from the kitchen stereo when she finally climbed up the attic steps, smiling from ear to ear as she made her way towards Harry.

"Yes!! Finished!!" she exclaimed, stretching her arms out in triumph.

"Yeah, you already said that." Harry responded dryly. "Don't you have to go back to work on Monday, though?"

Emily dropped her arms and grin for a moment to glare forcefully in Harry's direction. "I count my blessings," she said, every word haloed. "And instead of dwelling on the unpleasant, I am grateful for what I have."

Harry rolled his eyes at her, and then stretched out lazily in the afternoon sunlight. Emily looked down at Harry curiously, noting the various books and parchment surrounding him for the first time. "What's that?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, homework." Harry shrugged. "A couple essays that I had to do for school."

Emily blinked. (A/N: make a wish! It's eleven-eleven!)

"Come again?"

"Homework."

"You know, I could have sworn that you said-" she shuddered "-homework, but that's just too awful...I'm probably just going deaf, that's all."

Harry sighed and picked up his half-completed transfiguration essay and shoved it into her hands. Emily took one look at it and squealed.

"Ewwww! Homework!! In the summer!! Get it away!!!"

Harry obligingly put the essay away, but no sooner had he done so that Emily grabbed his arm and began to drag him downstairs. "Em!" he yelled, his arm feeling as if she were about to wrench it from its socket. "Em, loosen up here! Are you trying to take my arm off?"

"I have to get you away from that abomination!" Emily huffed. "And I was looking at those drinks you have in the fridge – red dragon, firewhiskey, and some other stuff – now, I could be wrong, but at least one of those has alcohol, right?"

Harry flushed. Fred and George had all too kindly provided Harry with a sizeable stash of drinks with which, being locked up all on his own - Oh, what they don't know – and nothing else to do, he was to get thoroughly pissed. They'd managed to hide it from Moody's ever-watching eye, and Harry had got it past Dumbledore when he came home.

"Yeah," Harry began. "Why?"

"I want to make margaritas." Emily said, loosening her death grip on Harry's arm as they went down the kitchen stairs. "Haven't had one in ages. And I'm just curious. Does butterbeer taste like butter, beer, or both? Come one, its Friday and we have nowhere to go – I say we get smashed."

"Fred and George would love you." Harry muttered, but Emily didn't hear him, as she was already pulling out some frozen looking cans as well as all the various drinks that the Weasley twins had supplied him with.

"Blender!" Emily directed Harry, who spun around for a few seconds before managing to remember where they kept it.

Several drinks and shots later, it was the world that was spinning as Harry attempted to get out of his chair.

"Hah." Emily attempted to smirk at him, but only managed to pucker her lips slightly. "You're drunk."

"Am not!" Harry retorted, while completely missing his chair as he sat back down and plunging to the floor. This only sent Emily off into a fit of giggles.

"Oh yeah?" she managed, almost falling out of her own chair as she looked under the table at Harry.

"I'm-I'm no-not...drunk..." Harry said, trying his best not to slur his words. "You are." He made one more half-hearted attempt to get up before collapsing to the ground again. "Help."

Emily giggled, but stumbled over to Harry and held out her hand to him. Halfway up, though, she lost her footing and went crashing down on top of Harry, the two landing in a pile of arms and legs. Harry groaned as he lifted his head to survey the carnage. Emily was completely sprawled on him, effectively pinning him to the ground.

"Em," he said. "Em, gerroff!"

Emily slowly lifted her own head, staring straight at Harry. "You know what?" she said, touching the tip of Harry's nose with her finger. "You're nice."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I am."

"Very nice," Emily said again, leaning closer to him. In the very back of Harry's mind something was screaming at him to move away quickly, but drunk Harry was finding Emily's position atop of him very comfortable.

"You're nice too." He told her, eliciting a giggle.

"You're nicer than Jared." Emily said, her eyes going slightly wet.

"Jared ish...a jerk." Harry confirmed, trying to nod decisively but instead succeeding in shaking Emily off of him as he rolled over, reversing their positions.

Emily, however, didn't seem to notice. "You're not a jerk." She said, as Harry bent his head to hers.

Harry shifted slightly as consciousness slowly returned to him. Trying his best to fall back asleep, he revelled in the warm, comfy feeling of his bed, and the soft, silky touch of Emily's hair across his WHAT!!! His eyes flew open and he would have shot upright in bed if it weren't for the fact that half of Emily's body was draped across his, his own arms holding her tightly to him.

Oh bloody hell. He thought. Oh no oh no oh no oh NO!

He looked wildly around the room; to his absolute horror, there were various items of clothing strewn absolutely everywhere; and – now panic really set in – there, on the chair by his desk, was a piece of material that could only be Emily's bra.

Calm down, Potter, he told himself, attempting to breathe normally. It's not like you haven't seen them already. A flashback of that embarrassing day ran through his mind and he groaned aloud. Oh, that did not help...To make matters much, much worse, Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was wearing any underwear – and that could mean only one thing...

"DAMMIT!!" he yelled, forgetting that Emily was still fast asleep beside him. Luckily for him, though, Emily was a deep sleeper, and so woke up slowly to the horror of their situation. She, too, realized with a start that she was lying beside Harry, and he could see the panic set in as she looked fearfully around the messy, clothes-strewn room.

"Ha-harry?" she said, her voice quivering slightly. "I'm in your bed....we're in your bed...am I missing something?"

Harry stared at her, unable to think of an appropriate answer, as Emily was still wrapped up in his arms. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but was saved when Emily gave a great yell that caused him to jump away from her.

"NO!! Not again!!"

Harry was thoroughly confused. "Er – look, we've had some strange times, but I don't think that we've done...this...before."

Emily gave an exasperated sigh before looking down pointedly at her bare chest, which, since their departure from each other, she was now covering with the sheet. "You've already seen them once! Honestly, I'm beginning to think I should just go around topless – then I wouldn't have to worry all the time whether you'll get another look, cause you'll see them all day!"

Harry tilted his head to one side as he processed this new information. "Well, I dunno," he blushed furiously. "I mean, not that I'd mind all that much..." Emily swiped at him with her hand, accidentally letting go of the sheet in the process. Ducking, Harry went even redder, but continued, ignoring her annoyed sigh. "You see? I mean – no worries there...but – wait! Don't hit me! I just – it could get pretty chilly."

Emily huffed at him, but looked curiously at Harry, whose heart was pounding as he tried his best to keep his eyes on her face. "Really? I was joking, but – they're not bad?"

Why me? Harry thought desperately. Which cruel, sick, and twisted person is doing this to me?

"Er, well, yeah, as far as...breasts go..." he managed to stammer. "It's not like I would really know..." Harry hastily backtracked at the sight of the impending scowl on Emily's face. "But as far as I do, I think they're...really nice."

Emily glowed at Harry for a few seconds, and he felt quite satisfied with himself until he chanced to glance around his room again, reminding him of what had actually happened. "Wait!"

Emily looked quizzically at him. "I'm not going anywhere..."

"We had sex!!" Harry blurted out.

Emily's mouth fell open. "We did?" she looked beneath the covers at herself, coming back up with a look of shock on her face. "WE DID!!"

"I know!!" Harry yelled back.

"We had sex!!"

"I know!!"

"Dammit!!"

"I know, we had sex!"

"No, no, not that."

"What?" Harry stopped his yelling to look strangely at Emily.

"I don't remember it!!" Emily's face wore an expression of pure anguish. "Damn!! Here I've been for the past little while, feeling like, yeah, I want to get laid, and the one time I do – I don't remember it!!" She stopped her rant long enough to look closely at Harry. "Do you?"

Harry stared at Emily in shock for a few seconds before registering what she'd asked. "Oh – yeah – I mean – no, I don't. At least – I know I had a good dream last night...but...no...maybe...Well, it's all a little fuzzy."

Emily grabbed his hands and looked imploringly at him. "Harry," she began. "Do you remember anything? Harry – Harry? Why won't you look at me? Harry!"

"The sheet, Em."

Emily looked down at her once again exposed chest and rolled her eyes. "I should just go topless." She muttered as she pulled it back up. "Okay, I'm decent. Well – at least – you can't see them."

Harry slowly turned back to her, making sure that he couldn't see too much skin. Upon seeing that he was on relatively safe ground, he shook his head at Emily. "Sorry, Em, but not really." He grinned at her as she huffed at him.

"What?" Emily looked highly offended. "It's all just a big joke to you, isn't it?" Harry frowned. Where was she going with this? Wasn't she okay with what happened? He was the one having a panic attack. "You've already seen tons of me – and you at least remember something! And...and..., oh my god." Harry could see their situation finally sinking in as Emily stopped for a second, sheer horror written all over her face. "You're probably thinking 'oh man, I got laid last night' and whatever else goes along with that! But we had sex, Harry, and now, I feel like I'm...trash, essentially."

Emily's eyes were bright as she turned to get out of the bed, a speechless Harry left in her wake. "Close your eyes, Harry." She commanded, which Harry was too stunned to do anything but obey. He didn't dare open them as he heard her shuffling around the room, sniffles accompanying the sound of clothes being thrown on in a rush, until the door slammed so hard that his glasses fell off his bedside table.

What just happened? Harry thought, utterly bewildered. One second Emily had been acting like it was no big deal, then, suddenly BAM! She's angry and upset. Just when I thought I was finally starting to get girls. Harry shook his head as he got out of bed and dressed. Striding out the door, he headed down to the kitchen to get breakfast. Emily was at the table, but refusing to look at him. Harry stood in front of her for a few minutes, deliberating whether or not to say anything, but decided against it and took some cereal into the tiny dining room. It wasn't until that he was seated at the small table, eating away that his mind fully registered the events of the night before.

Hey, he said to himself, grinning slightly. I got laid last night.

A/N: Gotta love Emily's mood swings, no? I can assure you that Harry hates them. (despite the fact that he has them all the way through OoTP – it's so realistic, I love him in that book!!) Any takes on what's going to happen next? Or did you absolutely hate it? I really hope it's not the latter, but review and let me know anyway.

- Laren