Blindingly drunk?
Cut for gore: Harry woke up late for once, and had to rush through his morning routine. He felt slow and awkward as he entered the Great Hall, as if he was moving through syrup, but no one seemed to notice. Hermione beamed when he sat down, obviously glad that he'd finally gotten some sleep. Ron seemed oblivious at first, but Harry noticed a lack of tension in his shoulders. He sat calmly smiled and nodded, and made the right remarks as he filled his plate and began eating.
"Harry, don't you want jam?" Ron asked, gesturing to the cup. He turned away, the comment already forgotten as he interrupted Dean's conversation with Neville to defend the Cannons' honor.
Harry's eyes slowly but certainly turned to the glistening rasberry jam. His mind jumped sideways, flashing passed images from last nights dream (Hermione, gutted by the sword of Gryffindor; Ron, blood spilling from his mouth, ears, eyes and nose; Ginny, her hair darkened and dulled by her own blood, screaming as she searched blindly for her eyes) into a shallow pool of nothing.
"Harry?" Hermione sounded a little worried.
"I'm fine," Harry shrugged a little. "I've just gone off jam, I guess."
That night, he slipped from his bed and made his way down to see Dobby. When he left the kitchens, a glass bottle was warm in his hand, filled with mulled wine. At the last moment he turned back. "Dobby?" He paused. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, tomorow morning...could you ask the other elves not to serve rasberry jam at the Gryffindor table? It disagress with me."
"Harry, don't you want jam?" Ron asked, gesturing to the cup. He turned away, the comment already forgotten as he interrupted Dean's conversation with Neville to defend the Cannons' honor.
Harry's eyes slowly but certainly turned to the glistening rasberry jam. His mind jumped sideways, flashing passed images from last nights dream (Hermione, gutted by the sword of Gryffindor; Ron, blood spilling from his mouth, ears, eyes and nose; Ginny, her hair darkened and dulled by her own blood, screaming as she searched blindly for her eyes) into a shallow pool of nothing.
"Harry?" Hermione sounded a little worried.
"I'm fine," Harry shrugged a little. "I've just gone off jam, I guess."
That night, he slipped from his bed and made his way down to see Dobby. When he left the kitchens, a glass bottle was warm in his hand, filled with mulled wine. At the last moment he turned back. "Dobby?" He paused. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, tomorow morning...could you ask the other elves not to serve rasberry jam at the Gryffindor table? It disagress with me."