Letting Go: Chapter Ten

[intangiblempire]

Title: Letting Go
Chapter: Ten
Authors: Vanilla Dear and Tangible Magic
Beta: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: Half-Blood Prince
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Dumbledore decides there must be a serious attempt at unifying Hogwarts' four Houses; chaos ensues.
Status: WIP
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations.
Categories: Humour, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, first time and romance.



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Harry didn’t go to supper.

He didn’t want to-

He was pissed, that was all, angry at Draco bloody Malfoy, the world’s most contradictory, sweet, vicious, hurt little piece of arrogant arse, and he-

He didn’t want to see him if he couldn’t touch him. Hold him. Bend him over his knee and fucking-

But he was hungry still, so hungry he was nauseous. His belly was all twisted up and sick, and he needed to eat. And there was no one at Hogwarts to tell him he couldn’t. He tickled the flirtatious yellow pear outside the kitchens, and when the door opened, scents poured out; meat and veggies and baked bread. He could hear the muted rush of squeaked commands and counter-orders, and as he slipped inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. The Hogwarts kitchens always felt like coming home.

‘Harry Potter!’ Dobby squeaked, long fingers wringing out a tea-towel. He was wearing one of Hermione’s misshapen bobble hats on his oversized head. ‘Harry Potter is coming to the kitchens! Harry Potter is looking very thin,’ he added disapprovingly.

‘Ah, well…’ Harry looked at the ground, embarrassed.

‘Harry Potter needs to eat more, or- no, Winky isn’t to touch that!! Bad Winky!’ Harry tried to ignore the lady Elf’s knobbly-kneed waltz about a very large bottle of medicinal FireWhiskey. This was difficult, because she stumbled a lot and she was also crooning and singing in a screechingly off-key voice. It sounded like Brahm’s Lullaby, but he didn’t remember Aunt Petunia ever singing it to Dudley with the lyrics, Go to sleep, little Hun, while the sprites THEY ARE dining/ Go to sleep, little Hun, while the sprites are HIGH ON love. He rather thought he might have enjoyed eavesdropping a little more if they had. Winky hiccupped, gnarled fingers rising unsteadily to cover her mouth. ‘Harry Potter needs to look after himself,’ Dobby said earnestly, and paused to glance at Winky. ‘Harry Potter needs to look after himself, because… Harry Potter can’t be a strong, brave wizard if he is all of the time falling over and fainting. Please Harry Potter is to ignore Winky,’ he added in a whisper. ‘She is not feeling very well at the moment and she is being a bad House-Elf. She will only be acting more terribly if Harry Potter is paying her attention.’

‘Ah,’ said Harry, very strenuously Not Looking as the diminutive elf licked a long, disturbing stripe up the glass bottle. ‘I am feeling a bit peckish. I don’t suppose there’s anything ready to eat?’

Dobby looked horrified and indignant. ‘Of course the House-Elves will be having food ready for Harry Potter. Harry Potter will sit down, please, and Dobby will prepare a platter.’ He looked Harry up and down carefully. ‘Some platters. And then Dobby will walk with Harry Potter back to his dormitory.’

‘I’m - I’m alright,’ Harry said.

‘Yes,’ Dobby said grimly, ‘Harry Potter is going to be alright.’

‘I said-’

‘Dobby is knowing exactly what Harry Potter said. Harry Potter is sitting down now, please.’

Harry was furiously chewing on a frankfurter and staring at the neatly folded clothes in his trunk when the door opened. He didn’t bother turning around.

‘Oh, yes!’

‘Oh, mm. Mm.’

Harry raised an eyebrow and swallowed the meat with a gulp. He could hear all sorts of… inappropriate noises for a boys’ dorm.

Like, moaning.

Girly moaning.

‘Oh, yeah, right there-’

‘Don’t- you silly boy, mmph, delicious, must-’

‘Engh, ‘Mione, we, um, ahh, ‘kay, jussh, ahh-’

‘Cream puff-’

‘Mm, baby,’

‘Harry?’

‘Mm, babe- what? What?! ‘Mione! Harry? Harry? How can you be thinking about Harry? Damn it, I knew this was too good to be-’

‘Oh, do shut up, Ron. Harry’s here.’

‘What-’ Ron’s voice became disgusted and Harry suppressed a smirk. Even though he couldn’t see him, he could picture his friend’s face clearly: half pink, half white, horrified grimace twisting his upper lip.

‘This is my dormitory too, you know,’ he pointed out without turning around. He took a sausage from the plate and bit it in half. It was salty, and lukewarm, and good, and he wasn’t sure, either the grey or the black - ‘Hermione, which pants look better, the grey or the black?’

‘On you?’ Harry glanced around; Hermione was perched on Ron’s bed, legs neatly crossed, sweat-damp strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, her severe expression belied by the fact that she had a rather tall red-headed boy stretched out next to her, panting his frustration into the curve of her hip.

‘Yes, on me,’ he agreed patiently.

‘How come -’ Ron interjected throatily, ‘you don’t - ask me for - fashion - advice.’

‘Ron,’ Harry said, ‘you’re a red-haired boy with an overwhelming fondness for maroon and orange. I would have to be certifiably insane to ask you for fashion advice. And besides, you don’t like boys. And Hermione does. So she should know better what looks good on me.’

‘She bloody well shouldn’t,’ Ron muttered in an undertone.

‘There’s nothing wrong with window-shopping,’ Hermione said.

‘Who said anything about shopping?’ Ron demanded. ‘Window shopping? Did you break a window, Harry? Why don’t you just Reparo it?’

‘It’s a Muggle thing,’ Hermione said calmly. ‘Stop craning your neck like that, the windows are fine. Lie back. Relax. Breathe.’

‘Nobody ever tells me anything,’ Ron mumbled. ‘And why are there so many cream puffs and sausage links in here?’

‘I -’ Hermione blinked. ‘Actually, yes, why are there so many cream puffs and sausage links and treacle tarts and… bowls of mashed potato… in here, Harry?’

‘ItoldDobbyIwashungry,’ he muttered and rushed on, ‘so, what do you think, the grey or the black?’

‘Definitely the black.’ Hermione chewed at her bottom lip. ‘Harry?’

‘Mm.’ He took out the black pants and sat them on the bed, nudging aside a large bowl of trifle to make room. He crouched down next to his trunk. ‘White shirt or… white shirt?’

‘Is this for tonight?’

‘Yep.’

‘White shirt, then.’ Hermione said. ‘No, the other white shirt. Harry?’

‘Mm.’ He set the shirt down next to the pants and considered his shoes. They were looking a bit scuffed.

‘Harry? What’s wrong?’

He barked out a laugh. ‘Wrong? What could be wrong?’

‘Harry- Harry, look at me!’ He glanced up into warm brown eyes, and gritted his teeth.

He shrugged.

‘Don’t you give me that, Harry James Potter, you told a House-Elf you were hungry.’

‘I just felt like a bite…’ he trailed off at her disbelieving look. ‘What?’

‘Cream puffs, Harry? Treacle tarts? Sausages? Mashed potato? Trifle? And chocolate frogs?’

He ran a hand back through his hair and shrugged again. He ate the rest of the sausage in two bites and piled a squirming frog in after it so he wouldn’t have to talk.

‘Harry?!’

He motioned to his mouth and chewed v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, trying not to smirk.

‘Harry, if you think I don’t know your habits after six years you are very much mistaken. This is all comfort food, mister, and if you don’t tell me what is wrong, so help me, I’ll-’ she stopped, stymied, then looked up. ‘I’ll sic Mrs Weasley on you!’

Harry gulped.

‘I will, I swear it, I’ll write to her and tell her- that you’re moody and ungrateful! And that you don’t do your homework!’

‘’Mione,’ Ron mumbled into her hip, then twisted onto his back and linked his hands behind his head, stretching. He was smiling, and trying not to. ‘We’ve just started going out, and you’re already using my mum as a threat.’

‘Yes?’ she glanced down at him. ‘And?’

He shrugged a muscled shoulder and grinned wider. ‘Nothin’. Carry on.’

Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, only now her hand was curved into Ron’s hair, ink-smudged digits sliding through the fine red waves. ‘Harry?’ Bushy eyebrows rose imperially.

Harry bit his lip.

‘Did you break up with him, then?’ Ron inserted. ‘Already?’

‘Of course he didn’t, Ron,’ Hermione said briskly. ‘You didn’t, did you?’

Harry bit his lip harder.

‘Shit,’ said Ron. ‘Sorry, mate.’ His mouth twisted sympathetically and he sat up.

‘Harry didn’t break up with Malfoy, Ron. Harry, you didn’t-’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Harry said quietly.

‘There, you see,’ said Hermione, but she was frowning.

Ron regarded him seriously, blue eyes narrowing in a combination of relief and horror. ‘Shit, mate,’ he murmured. ‘The little fucker broke up with you, didn’t he.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘No,’ said Harry. His eyes were prickling and he shook his head, jaw clenching.

Ron took note of his expression and his face went white, freckles standing out dark like inverted stars. ‘Oh, shit.’ He stood up. ‘Oh, shit.’ He winced with sympathy. ‘Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh shit. He broke up with you? The slimy ferret fucking broke up with you!? How dare he, he should be so fucking lucky as to lick you boots, fucking Malfoy fucking-’

‘Thanks, mate,’ Harry said firmly, ‘but you don’t need to rant for me. And stop pacing like that; you’re giving me a headache.’ His lips tightened. ‘He didn’t break up with me. Exactly.’

Hermione pulled Ron down to sit next to her and they both stared up at Harry. ‘Well?’ Hermione urged. ‘What happened?’

Harry glanced downwards and smiled slightly. He inclined a shoulder. ‘We had a … misunderstanding.’ He poked at a treacle tart and licked his finger. ‘Should I wear my robes, do you think?’

‘What? Harry, what?’ Ron’s face was all squished up. ‘What?’

‘Should I wear robes, do you think?’ he repeated patiently.

‘No,’ said Hermione. ‘That is, you can if you want; you certainly look wonderful either way,’ Harry blushed and Ron glared, and Hermione continued on, ‘but I believe Ron was really trying to ask you to expand on this matter of misunderstanding between you and … Malfoy.’

Harry swallowed. ‘I don’t think I’ll wear my robes,’ he said. He noticed that his hands were clenched into fists and loosened them, fingers splaying out wide and clutching at the thighs of his trousers. He cleared his throat.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said kindly, ‘just bloody tell us.’

He avoided her eyes. ‘I’m just a bit worried I might scream.’

‘Well that’s easily fixed.’ She threw a silencing spell over the door so nobody nearby would hear. ‘Go ahead, Harry.’

He rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘Well, he overheard-’ he stopped. His throat was closing up. ‘Snape and I were talking, in the hallway, and McGonagall blames him for Draco and I getting together, so she’s withholding sex, and Draco overheard, and you know how Snape calls her the Gryffindor, well, Draco thought Snape was talking about me.’

Ron’s mouth was hanging open. ‘You call him Draco!?’

‘Not where he can hear me,’ Harry said. ‘I mean, it’s a bit silly to be using last names when you’ve had your cock in someone’s mouth, but-’

‘Never mind that, honestly, it’s not important, Ron!’ Hermione stared at Harry. ‘Snape? And McGonagall? They’re fucking?’

Harry blinked. ‘That’s not the important bit.’

‘I knew it!’ said Hermione.

‘Well then why-’ Harry began.

‘I knew it! I knew it!’

Ron snickered. ‘’Mione, you thought Snape was fucking Harry.’

She waved her hand in dismissal. ‘I knew Snape was having sex with someone,’ she said primly. ‘It’s close enough.’

‘Yeah, but, but, no,’ Ron started to laugh. ‘This isn’t gnome-tossing, Hermione, it isn’t close enough.’

‘It is, Ron, because I could tell he was getting shagged.’

‘Hey!’ Ron inserted. ‘I just remembered. You though Harry had a crush on Snape, you didn’t say anything about them having sex.’

‘No, I knew Harry had a crush on Lupin; I thought he shagged Snape on Ball night.’

‘Ball night,’ Ron snickered. ‘That sounds kind of dirty.’

Hermione grinned. ‘Ron, sweetie, you think everything sounds kind of dirty.’ She leaned toward him, lips parting.

‘Guys!’ Harry shrieked. ‘Can we stay on topic here?!’

Hermione curled the palms of her hands over her ears. ‘Perhaps I should have cast the spell over the inside of the dormitory,’ she murmured. ‘Ron, stop touching my leg; it’s hard to concentrate when you do that.’ She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. ‘Right. Harry. So you had a misunderstanding, I’m sure you expected something of the kind to happen, considering it’s you and Malfoy, so what, precisely, is the problem?’

‘No problem,’ Harry denied, eyes manically bright. ‘No problem at all. Really. Should I wear a tie?’

‘No, you always look like you’re choking,’ Hermione said absent-mindedly. ‘Harry?’

‘Mm?’ he bit into the tart, and sweet treacle stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘Harry?’ she repeated. When Harry looked up he noticed that her eyes were narrowed.

‘Fuckin’,’ he muttered through his mouthful of treacle, and rubbed at his forehead. His throat was aching and it wasn’t anything to do with the overload of sugar. He slumped down on the edge of his mattress. ‘Fucking, bloody Malfoy.’ He thumped the wooden post of his bed with the side of his fist, and hissed, jaw tightening. ‘Little twerp told me he wouldn’t share,’ he looked incredulously across at his friends. ‘WOULDN’T FUCKING SHARE! Don’t want him to fucking share, now do I?! Fucking got it into his bloody head that I’m fucking shagging fucking SNAPE, fuck’s sake! HOW FUCKING STUPID CAN YOU GET?!’

Ron coughed and avoided looking at Hermione. ‘Yeah, barmy, that. You, shag Snape? Hah. Who’d believe a thing like that?’

‘Twisted little fucker thinks I’d choose Snape over him.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Fucking mental bastard. Fuck’s sake,’ he added.

Hermione blinked.

Ron looked at the ceiling.

‘What!?’ demanded Harry.

‘Well, you do spend an awful lot of time with Snape,’ Hermione began gently, ignoring Ron who was making frantic shushing motions.

‘’Mione, you can’t reason with him when he starts yelling,’ Ron hissed out of the side of his mouth.

‘And I don’t know much about Malfoy other than the fact he’s a right prat, but it’s easy to imagine he might be a bit… anxious?’ she made it a question.

‘’Mione!’ Ron begged.

‘You know, because even though you’ve always been enemies, you and Malfoy, and you and Snape, it’s always looked like you’ve always found it a bit easier to ignore Malfoy than Snape,’ she smiled hesitantly, ‘and I’m sure Malfoy would have felt that he had to compete for your attention a bit, before, and now that you’re not exactly enemies with either of them, anymore, I’m sure that… Well, Snape seems a bit more dangerous than Malfoy, doesn’t he, and he’s older, and he’s very smart and witty.’

Harry stared at her.

With a glance down at his wand hand to make sure he wasn’t about to hex her, she continued, ‘and the Masked Ball was only a couple of days ago, but people have known - Malfoy has known - that you’ve been friends with Snape for most of the year.’

After a long moment, he said, ‘I’m not really friends with Snape. Nobody can be friends with him; he’s too prickly.’

‘No, but you, um, you do seem to enjoy his company,’ Hermione said quietly.

‘Of course, but-’

‘And he takes points from you all the time, but to some people, it might almost look a bit as if he actually likes you.’

Ron had given up trying to stop her from speaking and was just staring at Harry glumly.

‘And Ron and I both thought just yesterday that you liked Snape. Sometimes, sometimes you can be a bit closed-mouthed about some things. So people have to guess how you feel about things, and we don’t always get it right.’ She smiled kindly. ‘You can’t blame him, Harry,’ she stopped. ‘Well, you can, because he’s Malfoy,’ she muttered. She waved her hand. ‘Anyway.’

Harry smiled slowly. ‘Hermione, I love you.’ Hermione lowered her eyelids demurely. Ron leaped up and catapulted onto Harry’s bed, where he proceeded to smack him about the head with a pillow. ‘You arse!’ Harry gasped breathlessly as he pushed Ron onto the floor. ‘What the fuck was that for!?’

‘You made my girlfriend blush, Potter.’ Ron glared up at him, red hair falling into his eyes, trying not to grin. ‘Also, I was making out with my girlfriend and you interrupted us, Potter. And also-’

‘Stop calling me Potter,’ Harry muttered, very aware that he was starting to blush.

‘I’m just being sarcastic, Harry,’ Ron said, blue eyes looking him over carefully. ‘Alright, mate?’

Harry snickered. ‘No, not really. Blimey.’ He settled himself more securely on his bed. Ron pulled himself up and sat beside him. Hermione immediately got up and sat on Harry’s other side, shifting slightly as she discovered she had almost perched on top of a plate of cream puffs. ‘He, um, Malfoy, of course he wouldn’t call me Harry, we’ve been enemies for years, and in this school, I mean we’ve roomed with Seamus since we started at Hogwarts and half the time I still call him Finnigan.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly.

‘I have the damnedest feeling this is going somewhere,’ Ron muttered and Hermione leaned around Harry to smack him in the back of his head. ‘Damn, woman,’ he grunted, cradling the smarting spot with one palm.

‘Let Harry talk,’ she ordered him crisply.

‘Alright. Damn.’

‘So anyway,’ Harry coughed, ‘Malfoy’s the only person who calls me Potter all that often, even Snape calls me Mr Potter mostly, so half the time the past couple days, when Malfoy’s said my name, he’s been, um, in the middle of something,’ he rushed on. ‘So just don’t call me by my last name, either of you, please.’

There was a long, very silent Silence.

Harry cleared his throat and looked straight ahead.

‘Right,’ said Ron.

‘Um,’ said Hermione,’ do you mean-’

‘Right!’ said Ron. ‘Hermione, come on, you really don’t want to finish that sentence, yeah?’ he pleaded.

‘Damn it.’ Harry turned his head to see that she, Hermione, Hermione Granger, was pouting. ‘Why the hell not?’

‘You don’t want to make Harry embarrassed, do you? You don’t want to make me embarrassed, do you?’ he added, then stopped short, seeming to realise his mistake.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said calmly, staring over Harry’s head at Ron, ‘are you saying that being called Potter now makes you sexually aroused?’

‘Really?’ said Neville, who had just come in. ‘Goodness.’ He stared hard at Harry. ‘Potter. Potter. Potter.’

Harry, who had never thought that Neville could be this cruel, covered his face with his hands. ‘I hate you, Neville, go away.’

Neville chuckled. ‘We’re almost finished setting up. I was just coming back to get changed into something a little more festive.’ He looked down at his perfectly serviceable school robes and rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t really think I’ve got anything better than this, though.’

Hermione grinned at Neville, and then turned to Harry. ‘You’re not mad at him about what he thought?’

Harry knew she was talking about Malfoy. ‘No, I know he’s an insecure little shit,’ he said quietly, ‘and I’m going to make him realise the truth. I just…’ he quirked his lips. ‘Needed to vent, you know?’

Hermione nodded, her forehead creasing. She glanced at Neville, who was trying to eavesdrop subtly, and not doing a very good job of it. She leaned toward Harry, and whispered, ‘why do you and Ron keep referring to him as little? He’s shorter than Ron, but he’s taller than you, Harry.’

‘Yes,’ said Harry. He shrugged, struggling not to grin.

‘This is one of those odd boy things, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘No,’ whispered Ron, ‘I think it’s one of those odd Malfoy things, actually.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I think we’d probably better get ready,’ he said in a much louder voice.

Neville stopped trying to eavesdrop with a humph as he flipped his trunk open. ‘Sweet blooming heck - would somebody please just tell me who Harry’s fucking?’

‘No,’ Ron and Hermione chorused.

‘You know I actually heard a Hufflepuff third year saying that you two were together,’ Neville muttered. ‘Really, people will believe anything.’

‘We are together,’ said Hermione.

‘No, not you and Ron,’ Neville said, ‘Ron and Harry.’

‘Really?’ said Ron, looking pleased.

‘Yeah,’ Neville chuckled. ‘I mean, how mental can you get?’

‘Hey!’ said Ron. ‘It’s plausible!’

Neville snickered. ‘Mm, sure. Right. Really easy to believe.’

‘WELL,’ Ron shouted, standing up and puffing out his chest in indignation, ‘AT LEAST IT’S EASIER TO BELIEVE THAN-’ he stopped, eyes widening. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

‘Hmm,’ said Neville. ‘Can I have a sausage, Harry?’ Harry nodded for him to go right ahead. ‘So it’s someone implausible, then, someone unlikely.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Colin Creevey!’

Hermione gave Neville a Look. Then she turned to Harry. ‘Get changed, then, dear. I won’t have Colin disapproving of the way we dress you.’

‘Hermione!’ Harry said. ‘I can dress myself!’

‘Yes, that’s why you were asking for directions earlier. Go into the bathroom to get changed, you too Neville, and then I can have a good look at you.’

‘We can just change inside our curtains,’ said Harry, and ‘I don’t think Nev’s getting changed anyway.’

‘Yes,’ said Hermione patiently, ‘but if you two go into the bathroom to get changed, it’ll give me a little time to feel Ron up without being interrupted.’

‘’Mione!’ Ron screeched, going bright red.

‘Okay,’ said Harry cheerfully, grabbing his clothes and following Neville into the bathroom.

Which turned out to be perhaps not the best idea he had ever had. ‘I know,’ Neville said, eyes gleaming, and Harry’s heart stopped.

‘Oh, crap,’ he said, leaning weakly against the tiled wall.

‘Cho Chang has a twin brother who goes to Durmstrang and he secretly Apparated into Hogsmeade on Ball night.’

Harry blinked. ‘Okay, you caught me out. You’re exactly right. I’m in love with Cho Chang’s rebellious twin brother. From Durmstrang.’

‘In love,’ repeated Neville, and beamed, eyes going wide. ‘Oh, Harry! How wonderful!’

He rolled his eyes, grinning, and started getting changed right where he was. ‘Yeah, it would be wonderful, and it is, except he’s…’ he looked up from buttoning his pants. ‘You don’t mind me talking about Mystery Man, do you?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Neville waved that aside. ‘Go on, I want to see if you slip up and reveal anything.’

Harry glared at him. ‘Bastard.’

‘That’s not what my gran says. Go on, then.’ Neville was smiling very confidently, and Harry realised, with a burst of shock, that Neville was really kind of… kind of hot. ‘You alright, Harry?’

Harry blinked. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said quietly, and chuckled.

Neville was looking at him warily.

Harry had discovered he was gay, and in just two days, been attracted to three people - Malfoy, Snape and Neville. Harry wondered if he was going to grow up to be a slut.

Neville was still frowning at him.

Well, as long as he was only a slut with Malfoy, that would be perfectly fine.

‘Harry?’ said Neville. ‘Is it Snape?’

‘Huh?’ said Harry.

Neville frowned deeper. ‘Is Snape your Mystery Man?’

‘Fuck, no,’ said Harry. ‘Why does everyone think-’ he stopped. It would hardly be fair to Neville to take his frustration out on him. ‘It isn’t Snape.’

‘Well, I mean, I can’t speak for anyone else,’ said Neville, ‘but the reason I thought it was Snape-’ Oh, here goes, thought Harry, more harping on how we spend too much time together and shit. It’s called detention, guys. And top-secret training to get ready to kick Voldemort’s arse, which no one is supposed to know about, but still. ‘- is, well, he’s sort of hot.’

Harry blinked. He smiled slowly. ‘Yeah, well. That’s true.’ He shook his head violently. ‘I’m taken. And so are you. No talking about Snape.’

‘No,’ agreed Neville. ‘We especially shouldn’t talk about his voice.’

‘Or his hands,’ said Harry.

‘Or the buttons,’ Neville said huskily.

‘Or that ridiculous way he swishes about all the time, he’s worse than Lockhart, honestly,’ said Hermione.

Neville shrieked and slapped his hand over his chest. ‘Fucking Christ!’

Hermione giggled. ‘Come on then, let’s have a look at you.’

Harry turned around. ‘Look, I did all my buttons up in the right order and everything,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Good boy,’ said Hermione. She looked Harry over. He felt a lot like a piece of meat. Hermione had such a penetrating stare. ‘Almost perfect.’ She lifted her wand and ran it over the collar of his shirt, and when she took her wand away, Harry’s shirt had changed to a rich midnight blue. ‘Mm, better.’ She stared at his hair. ‘Oh, sweetie, your hair is such a mess.’

Harry glanced in the mirror. It looked normal to him. He shrugged.

Hermione raised her wand, and Hermione did know best about some things, but - ‘No.’

Hermione frowned at him. ‘But Harry, it’s so messy! It would only take me a minute to fix it, please-’

‘He likes it messy,’ Harry told her.

‘He likes it messy?!’ she repeated.

‘Yep,’ said Harry. At her expression, which was a little intrigued and very put out, he added, ‘you can play with my hair another day, okay?’

‘He likes it messy?!’ she said again. ‘Gosh, it must be love.’

He sneered at her. She laughed and threw her arms around him, clutching fiercely. She smelled a little bit like Ron, which was strange, because he was used to Hermione smelling just like herself. But now there was grass and sweat and the cologne Hermione had given Ron last Christmas, along with the dry husk of parchment and talcum powder and bitter, interesting ink.

‘I hate him,’ she whispered.

‘I know,’ Harry muttered into her hair, belly lurching.

‘No, you don’t,’ she told him angrily. ‘I hate him more now. He’s making you grow up.’

‘What!’ said Harry, drawing back a little.

Her eyes were slightly wet. ‘He didn’t believe you, and if it was me or Ron, you’d shout at us then go into a sulk. He’s changing the way you act. And he’s, he’s not strong and you’re getting stronger to compensate.’ She touched a curl of his hair. ‘Fucking hell, Harry, every time I turn around you’re changing.’

‘Then maybe you should get out of the bathroom,’ said Ron, leaning in the doorway. ‘What with all the changing that goes on here, this being the change room. Get your perverted mitts off my girlfriend, Harry,’ he snickered.

‘Really!’ said Hermione, ‘my mitts are not perverted, thank you, and even if they were, Harry is a boy, not a girl, and therefore quite clearly cannot be your girlfriend.’ She sashayed out past Ron, who was gaping at her, open-mouthed. ‘Don’t we have a party to get to?’ she hinted.

‘Right,’ said Ron. ‘Right.’ He cleared his throat and trailed after her. ‘Hermione…’

‘Yes, Ron?’

‘I just wanted to say- mmmph, mmm-’

‘Oh, yes, clothes, mm-’

‘Mmm, nng, woman!’ Ron’s voice came, muffled and panicked from inside the dorm room. ‘The party, we have to-’

‘Damn it!’ Hermione yelled, and Harry started with shock. He glanced at Neville, who stared back, eyes wide.

‘Do we dare go out there, do you think?’

Very wet kissing noises were coming from the dorm room. Neville looked a bit sick. ‘I - I don’t want to. Let’s just shut the door and sit here a while, yeah?’

Harry reflected that, Gryffindor or no, there were some times when it just did not pay to be brave. ‘Yeah.’ He reached out to pull the door closed, and then he sat on the edge of a sink. Neville and he avoided looking at each other.

After a very long moment, in which Harry tried desperately not to listen, the door slammed open. ‘Coming?’ Hermione asked breathlessly.

‘I don’t think you should be asking us that question,’ Neville mumbled, and Hermione blushed.

‘Shut up,’ she murmured, brushing a damp tendril of hair away from her forehead.

She looked at Harry and then turned around, beckoning over her shoulder. ‘Come on, then.’

Right. He swallowed. He was off to convince Malfoy that he didn’t want to share. Just off to convince him of the truth.

How hard could that be, right?

‘Harry, you okay?’ Neville whispered.

‘Sorry?’

‘You sound like you’re having trouble breathing.’

‘Nope, I’m fine,’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘We’ve got a party to go to, right?’

‘Yeah. Harry?’ asked Neville.

Harry turned to look at him as they exited out of the Portrait. ‘Hmm?’

‘You sure it’s not Colin Creevey?’

Harry smiled mysteriously, and led the way down to the dungeons.

He really wasn’t terrified. He didn’t know why his hands were shaking. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

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