The Grand Glamour

1- The awakening

After serving breakfast that morning to his ungrateful relatives, Harry went on one of his frequent depression walks around the neighborhood that were becoming a startling habit this summer.

During the summer break he hadn't received anything from Ron and Hermione, even Sirius or Dumbledore, no letters, no gifts on his birthday, he had tried to contact them on several occasions, but nothing seemed to work. Hedwig would just return with the letters still tied to her. He was all left alone.

Somehow the doomed end of the Triwizard Tournament and the killing of Cedric Digory, as well as the return of Voldemort, had sucked out all of the joy the Wizardkind was capable of. Including Harry himself. But he still couldn't believe that everyone had decided to mourn on their own. He needed, even anticipated some support. But everybody just had decided to ignore him.

Harry had this intense feeling inside, something trembling, like before an exam or a test for which he hadn't studied. He was scared, by Gods, he had all rights to be scared, he was convinced that all of the Wizarding World was biting its nails and hiding in cupboards. Woops, bad choice of words.

One Harry Potter sighed heavily and kicked a trashcan in the side, earning some condemning looks from the two ladies sitting at the bus stop across the street.

Well, fuck them. Fuck everybody. He thought to himself, although that didn't ease the tingling sensation gripping his insides, it somehow opened up a new possibility, a new route for his thoughts to move on.

That's right. I don't need them. While I have been spending two thirds of my summer, just throwing the holidays away, my only free time of all responsibility and duties, just waiting for my supposed friends to give notice, I should have been living. Enjoying what's still left of the world. For Christ's sake, I'm fifteen. And I'm still acting like the sissy I was when I first found out about magic.

He finally felt like a free man. He decided to take the matters of his life in his own hands, not to obey and trail behind everyone who had ever showed interest.

He smelt the summer breeze, wafting around Privet Drive. He stood still for a moment and opening his eyes he saw a girl going past him, gazing at him as she walked by, with a small smile on her lips. He turned around and took a long look at her ass. A nice ass it was.

Another condemning look from the ladies, followed by conspiratorial whispers. He snorted.

Old hags. He thought, almost voicing it, and continued walking down the street, to the nearest park where he would leisurely lie down on a bench, appraising some more female ass.

--

He somehow remembered having heard an expression 'blondes have more fun'. He wondered if it was true.

While trying on some shirts, he wondered whether it was more fun with blondes.

Harry had a date.

It was his first one, but he was determined not to show it. He was nervous, of course, who wouldn't be with a beautiful creature as that specific girl was, and he new he needed new clothes, as fast as possible.

He had exchanged some Galeons to Muggle money, enough to last through all of august and he had also managed to do it without getting caught or even being seen. He was proud of himself and he smirked as he found out that clothes of smaller sizes, than those what Dudley wore, suited him perfectly and made him look astoundingly good. Especially everything tight. Harry had all the privacy of the changing cabin to look at himself.

For the last few days young mister Potter had tried to break his mind by thinking as a girl. The motives where as following- how to look appealing to a girl, how to easier get a date with some of them, how to figure out what were those topics he could talk about, just to get rid of humiliating silent moments followed by 'errs' and 'umms'.

He was acting really foolish, trying to imagine what girls saw, and how different it was from a guy's logic. He had tried to imagine being a girl, questioning Aunt Petunia, in a seemingly subtle manner, but Uncle Vernon had taken it as something obscene and for a few days Harry had sported a black eye. But everything always has a good ending, because while lounging on his park bench this sexy blonde had appeared, apparently off from work for lunch. She sat down on his bench (Harry had even engraved his name on the backrest that now read 'Harry's bench') and took out a paperback fantasy novel and her bag of sandwiches.

At one point she dropped her book. Of course, being the great Gryffindor, Harry bent to pick it up.

"Here you go," he has said and looked at her.

"Thanks. Hey, what happened to your eye?" she had asked, still looking at him with her pale blue eyes.

"I ran into a tree," she snorted in disbelief, muttering quietly 'yeah, right'. "And then the tree cursed at me and hit me back with a branch. I even had to go to a doctor to take the splinters out."

At this she laughed. Harry smiled, she had a nice laugh.

"You don't believe me?" he added when the girl looked at him, having calmed down after laughing.

"I am reading a fantasy novel, but it doesn't mean, I believe it's all true, you know."

"Well, I do believe in all things fantasy. Life is boring enough. Can't be that nature has meant it to be like that, so there has to be more to it," Harry surprised himself by leading this small talk very eloquently.

"Well, I hope to live to see it," she had said, leaning back against the bench, covering the small engraving with her shoulder. She had a nice lean body with small breasts and breathtakingly beautiful legs. "Meanwhile, my boss hates me for reading these constantly."

"Oh, what do you do?"

"I'm a secretary," she smiled at Harry and his heart skipped a beat. A girl had just smiled just for him. "And what do you do?"

"I'm still in high school. A going-to-be senior," getting in touch with his inner Slytherin was turning out to be the best idea ever. A girl like that would never really talk to him if she new Harry was only fifteen.

"Oh, you lucky person! Getting to enjoy this beautiful weather. But be sure to spend your last free summer by doing everything you possibly can. I kinda' regret loosing that."

"I'm sure I will, thanks for the advice," he smiled a genuine grin at her, barely controlling himself not to reach out and touch her tanned shoulders.

"Better get going, otherwise, they will be again all bothered at the office," she stood ready for leaving. But Harry thought that he saw her waver a bit, as if waiting for something. He stood up.

"Yeah, but maybe, we could, you know, maybe go out sometime. Nothing fancy, I just found talking to you real refreshing," he fidgeted with his hands for a few moments, nervous as hell, but, thank god, he didn't drop mute, unlike all his other times trying to talk with girls, Cho surfaced his memory…

The girl lit up: "Yeah, sure, I'd really love to! Let's say Thursday evening seven, here this same spot?"

"It's a deal!" Harry practically jumped out of happiness- he was having a date with… Wait!

He laughed a bit, easing the moment that way and stretched out his right hand: "And by the way, my name's Harry."

"Oh," she giggled, grasping his hand. "That's right. I'm Ann. Nice to meet you, Harry."

"It's been a pleasure," he dropped her hand after giving it a slight squeeze. "Cheers, good luck with your colleagues!"

"Cheers!"

He looked after her for a while, her fetching ass and legs, just for him on a date on Thursday evening. Then turning around, he winced- all this smiling was making his black eye hurt a little.

But well, no pleasure, no pain.

--

The date turned out to be a blast- they had a small dinner at a small kitschy Italians that didn't serve so much food as nice wine. Ann and Harry both got tipsy, and giggled their way to a club to make fun of all those people who were wiggling their ways drunk through the dance floor.

Harry felt good and free with her, it could be because this girl was a bit older that any of those he had met at Hogwarts and was taking things natural and without any girly giggling or blushing and turning away, consulting a whole batch of girlfriends as bodyguards behind her back, because she obviously had experience and was more social than any witches he knew. While being with Ann, Harry thought of the Wizarding World as a prejudiced part of the society that had for too long lived in its own hole.

He realized that it was only because he was making himself feel better and not miss his friends too much, but Harry just pushed all these thoughts in a dark little part of his brain that didn't get used while drinking and having fun.

--

"I had so much fun!" Ann exclaimed as Harry was bringing her home in a cab. "I haven't laughed like that since school. You make me feel adolescent, Harry."

She dropped her head back and looked at her new friend. Truth be told, he was already sober, he had tried to drink only coke during their stay at the club because he didn't want to get all sick on Ann like he had seen Ron become when they had peeked into his father's bar and Ron had dared to steal a bottle of whiskey. And apparently Ann wasn't much of a drinker either. After all she was just out of school, getting ready to start in some university this fall.

"You have beautiful green eyes, has anyone told you that?" Ann's voice came as if from a distance; Harry came rushing all through his thoughts back to reality.

"Hmm?" he turned towards her and she took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss him.

Harry froze. He thought a second of pulling back, but then the realization, that he had wanted to kiss her all the time, hit him in the head.

Ann had begun to caress his cheek and her tongue was dancing around in his mouth when finally Harry kissed her back. He put his arms on her shoulders pulling her closer to him. He felt her breasts on his chest, a weird sensation and she moaned in his mouth.

Then the taxi driver finally stopped the car and Ann ended the kiss, looking in Harry's with a slightly drunk/dazed look.

"Can I meet you again?" she whispered.

Harry, still feeling flushed and shocked, just nodded his head.

"Tomorrow?"

Again- a nod.

"In our spot at eight pm. Bye, I loved this evening," and with that got out of the cab and slammed the door shut.

"Now where to, boy?" the driver said and Harry, before answering, wondered if he still had a voice or had Ann kissed it away, too.

--

Ann didn't show up. Probably she had been too drunk to remember. Or she had been too drunk last night and was now embarrassed. Anyway, Harry was left standing there, feeling and most probably looking like an idiot. He drew this conclusion out of the quietness of the park; there was no one else in the park standing all alone seemingly waiting for the world to end.

Stupid, stupid. Harry was starting to think that he had caught some kind of disease; that all the people that knew him, had decided to suddenly ignore him.

Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he was a dork. Not funny enough, not attractive enough. Harry sat down on 'Harry's bench' and put his head in his hands. In the way his glasses got misplaced.

It has to be the glasses! I look like a dork in them.

And with that Harry had decided to go any lengths just to get rid of his glasses. He should have done it on several occasions in the past, and with the upcoming war they would only be a hindrance, that way he was easily vulnerable, not being able to see anything without his stupid spectacles.

The boy cursed and went back to Dursley's home.

--

After a week Harry Potter could have easily strolled down the busiest promenades in Diagon Alley without being recognized. Of course he didn't want to test his luck.

He had gotten around fixing his eyesight with a laser operation, a Muggle invention, because he didn't trust any wizard or witch not to go running to the press as soon as she was out of their office. The Muggle's had a stupid rule that nobody under twenty-one could have the operation done, but after a little bit of coaxing and some false ID from Dudley's friends in return for a promise not to be hexed, the doctor's showed no resistance.

And also in addition to his new stack of clothes, he had gotten his hair beautifully styled. Of course, it was still messy to no end, but he had specifically chosen a gay hair stylist which his aunt frequently attended and the fact that he had adored his thick, naturally black locks didn't also hurt. Anyway he knew that Petunia had to always have the best of everything. She had recommended him after all.

And indeed, now Harry's hair was still messy looking, but with the nice cut, quoting the hairdresser, he had now a 'freshly-shagged-look that was even more appraised that the out-of-bed-look'.

--

Right now Harry was doing what he always should have done, throwing the old Dudley's clothes out of the window. It was about dinner time and his uncle had just pulled the car in the garage, shouting at Harry: "What on God's green earth is the matter with you, boy?! Finally cracking up?"

Harry just continued, ignoring the shouts throughout the house: "Petunia, what's that demented freak upstairs doing with his clothes?"

"Shush, Vernon, Harry's finally getting some sense of style. He has bought new things for him, and is now-"

"-some sense of style?! What, he's queer now? It would really suite a freak like him. Get me my dinner."

--

The rest of the summer went by without any accidents; Harry had a few more dates, but nothing serious, as he couldn't find exactly a girl that had something remotely attractive. And he never saw Ann again.

Most of the girls he met were overweight as if they had never heard of sport or diets, or they were slobs, always barking not laughing.

In some more introspective moments, Harry found out that he was looking all the time for someone who could match Ann. He was just looking for that cold, refreshing beauty, blond hair, light eyes, lean body, firm ass. An impossible catch, furthermore, he would have to go to Sweden to find original blondes. Or start a Veela breeding factory…

All he got from women around him were chubby bellies and quivering asses, bleached blond hair with disgusting dark roots sticking out, not always washed carefully. The beauty of their eyes was overridden by stacks of make-up, the lashes sticking together because of too much mascara. Harry found that he was truly disgusted by some of them. Once after he had stroked some girl's cheek, the powder came off on his fingers just like plastering of a ceiling.

He tried talking with his hairdresser about this problem of his, but Andy just suggested he go on a date with a bloke. It didn't quite work for Harry; he wasn't even going to try something so desperate.

But the young wizard did agree to go for a coffee with Andy on his lunch break. It couldn't hurt, could it?

"So, your Aunt tells me some interesting stuff about you. I was actually hoping I could meet you some time for a few years now," the hair stylist deliciously licked the milk foam off his cappuccino. Leaving some of it on his upper lip.

Harry swallowed hard: "Er… You got some… foam… on your…," for the first time in a month his eloquence was lost in a bit of Andy's tongue tracing the line where the chocolate sprinkled foam had been on his lip. "Yeah, now's fine."

The man laughed out loud at Harry's flushed cheeks and in addition put on a small show by cleaning the corner of his mouth with a finger, then licking it: "It's so delicious… The chocolate, you know, I think I like it so much because of life not being sweet enough…"

"Mhm…," the boy sitting across the table was lost in a trance. His eyes had gotten glazed all over and Andy laughed again, waving a hand in front of Harry's face, to wake him up.

"Are you for real, Harry? And you claim yourself straight?"

Harry straightened up a bit; he had gotten all slouched in the cozy chair, but after his companions comment, he attempted to regain his confidence. He stubbornly looked out of the window: "Yeah, because I am."

"Aha, right…"

"So… what has my aunt been telling you?"

"Oh, that you're a freak. That they even had to send you to a boarding school for the criminally insane, or some sort of bullshit."

"True, I do attend a boarding school," Harry answered, not wanting to put himself in a lousy situation about him being a wizard.

"Only for boys?" Andy suggestively remarked, quirking one eyebrow, which Harry found somehow appealing and sexy.

Eeek, bad thoughts, out of my head.

"No, not only for boys!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, and do you sleep in big dormitories? Hearing how the others mumble in sleep or jerk off?"

"Something like that…" Harry got angry at himself for agreeing.

"It must be real hard, being away from home all the time, living with complete strangers, even the people you don't like, but still having to see them all the time."

Harry remembered Malfoy suddenly. All the attacks and fights. He contemplated this into his own black coffee.

"Well, actually, even as horrible as some people are there, most of them are great, mind you, but having a 'home' like I have, in some sense of the word, with my Aunt and Uncle, my real home, sweet home has become my school."

"That must one heck of a school," Andy said and both men fell into a friendly silence.

Harry was brought back to his memories of Hogwarts and the people there. He realized that only a week was left before he had to return to a world where he was some kind of a hero in a war doomed to break out soon enough. Where there was loss and death and sadness and friends who never wrote to you over the summer.

He did hold a small grudge against them all, for not being there when he really needed them, the last thing he could remember from the Great Hall was Dumbledore's speech regarding Digory's death, and all the student body quietly moving out and to the train station quiet and thoughtful. But he wanted to laugh, to enjoy everything while he still could. It was a selfish desire, but he intended to pursue it for a while and ignore all of the other things as longer as possible.

"I brought you back to memories, right?" Andy broke the silence. "And they are not too happy by the look in your eyes."

"No, it's just, I miss them all horribly."

"But don't you phone each other? Meet sometimes? We're living in the communication era, after all."

Harry gave a sad smile before spilling the truth: "I tried, but they all seem to have ditched me."

"Ouch. That's got to be hard. Some friends you have. No wonder you have finally hatched from your shell."

That was one thing Harry had never expected to hear: "What d'you mean?"

"Well, Mrs. Dursley says you have never taken care of your looks, but look at you now. Harry, you are one of the hottest new things this summer," Harry had the decency to blush, although he had almost gotten used to Andy saying things like that. "And don't think I don't remember, but I do, I had seen you last year when you came by to purchase some shampoo and conditioner for your beloved aunt. You were all shy and scared looking, as if you awaited someone to hit you if you said something more than necessary."

"What, really? Even I don't remember that," Harry gave a small laugh.

"Really. You had slouched shoulders, and you were small. Wearing clothes too big as if trying to hide that fact," the hairdresser smirked.

"Well, the clothes had to go eventually," the young man tried to stand up for himself. Or Ron and Hermione. He didn't actually know for which.

"But you have gained confidence," arguing against Harry's loss of belief in himself.

"That still doesn't explain how it's linked together with me not being with my school friends."

"Well, don't kill me for saying that, but I think that your friends held you in that shell of yours. I don't have a degree in psychology, but I do know people, I work with them, after all. And I suppose that you are befriended with people who have a steady image in their heads of how you should be, how you are. It's like what some people have in their families. And they love you how are, you don't need any change; you are in your safe little nest, no need to impress someone, no need to prove yourself. I even have met people who are afraid of changes because their loved ones might not like it. So they leave everything as it is."

"I'm humoring you, go on," Harry, hooked by Andy's explanation, put down his cup which had helped him maintain some kind of a protection layer, and leaned forward in interest.

"There are two kinds of people. It's exactly the analogy about the two mice that fell into the barrel of cream. One drowned, not being able to get out, but other one was kicking and squirming until the cream had turned into butter and it could easily climb out. When being left by your friends, you didn't shell in, but instead tried and have succeeded in gaining some confidence on your own. By living to your own standards. Being what you want to be."

"Wow, that's some insight you have there, Andy," Harry leaned back in the chair, contemplating everything. "Damn, you're right."

Andy smiled the smile of the Cheshire cat: "I'm a genius. There is no cure for that."