The Room itself looked like nothing more than a very large classroom, divided into sections by columns. However the addition of a gramophone with an oversized trumpet, dim lighting and numerous armchairs and beanbags, not to mention a great number of people had Harry gob smacked.
It was a party.
Hastily planned and put together; a space intended solely for getting drunk in by the look of the sparsely furnished room, but a party nonetheless.
Harry remained still and merely observed his surroundings. Less than six feet away Draco Malfoy (wearing leather trousers no less!) had a girl that most certainly was not Pansy Parkinson pressed up against a wall. For a moment he stared, oddly transfixed, then he came to himself and hurriedly shuddered and stepped away. He let his eyes pass onto a group of girls in very revealing outfits, clutching glasses of firewhisky and giggling loudly together. In fact, Harry realised as his eyes moved from group to group, everyone here seemed to have an alcoholic drink of some kind in their hands, and when a cheer went up from the opposite side of the room he saw that beside the gang of boys playing drinking games there, there was a long wooden table almost overflowing with colourful bottles.
After thinking for a moment, Harry sidled up to the table and grabbed a bottle at random then ducked back into the shadows, glancing around before examining it. The bottle had been one of the few that was still sealed and although unlabelled contained an electric violet coloured liquid which smelled like sherbet. He started to raise it to his lips before he was jolted violently from behind and the bottle smashed painfully into his teeth with a loud crack. The sharp pain however, was worth it when Harry laid eyes on its cause: Draco Malfoy, now inebriated to the point where he was unable to distinguish people from walls (apparently the reason he had thrown his date against Harry) was staggering around drunkenly as his date stalked off in disgust. Harry couldn't help snorting with laughter (albeit whilst clutching his mouth in pain) as Malfoy peered woozily around him in confusion.
"Cordelia?" he slurred, then his eyes rested on Harry who half spat out the gulp of his drink he had been taking at Malfoy's next words. " 'Ello darling-"
"Sorry Malfoy," Harry said, alarmed "wrong person."
"Harry?"Malfoy's eyes widened as he swayed on the spot "Harry, you can't be here."
Since when had Malfoy called him Harry?
"Er - I just sort of wandered in…"
"Well hide!" Draco urged
"I'll be fine." Harry reassured him, looking around with interest.
"No, listen, I'm serious!" Malfoy grabbed his arm, his voice suddenly less slurred "change your hair colour at least, you're not a Slytherin, they'll set Crabbe and Goyle on you if they see you."
Harry searched Malfoy's earnest face. What did he mean by that? Weren't Crabbe and Goyle his goons?
Eventually he shrugged and raised his wand, changing his hair back to its mousy brown of the summer. He did the same with his eyes.
"Draco?" Harry heard Pansy Parkinsons voice call from somewhere nearby, and Draco looked around in alarm.
"Sure you won't go?" Malfoy asked again, his voice slurring slightly, then backed away shaking his head regretfully "Ah well. Better go before Pansy - eek!"
Harry watched as Malfoy escaped his girlfriend by the skin of his teeth. Pansy scowled as her arms closed on thin air and Harry turned away so he wouldn't be seen.
Can I go into your pocket?"Serissa interrupted as Harry settled down into a chair, drinking another mouthful out of his bottle. The alcohol had a pleasantly fizzing texture in his mouth and tasted very sweet and sticky. If he was about to be ousted from the party by Crabbe and Goyle, he decided, he should try and take this with him.
"Harry! I want to go inside your pocket! I do not like how you are beginning to smell, and this place has ugly lights."
Harry felt bad at the irritation in her voice; how long had he been ignoring her? He obligingly shoved his hand in his pocket and she crawled off.
His drink was gone in a surprisingly short time and the colour changing lights were beginning to make his head spin pleasantly. He felt comfortable, like he was sinking into his chair. Lazily he reached for the nearest full glass on the table beside him, a slightly steaming orange concoction in a used glass.
He nearly missed it and spilt it on the floor. For a moment he frowned, eyeing his empty purple bottle suspiciously and assessed how he was feeling. He didn't feel drunk - not that he had any experience with it - but he didn't really feel right either. He raised the glass to his mouth with a shrug.
He glanced around him and spotted Malfoy gyrating against Pansy in the centre of the room. He certainly didn't look so hostile towards her as he had a moment ago.
Hermione would have a fit if she saw where I was…Harry thought dreamily
After a while, Harry took to wandering through the crowd of semi-familiar faces, his whole body buzzing with a sort of sleepy warmth, combined with a zing of almost electric static. He felt like he was floating along in a haze. Every now and again, a new drink would appear on a nearby table, and he found himself picking it up without a thought. Eventually, he found himself in a comfortable bean bag, and acknowledged blearily that Blaise Zabini had settled into a nearby armchair with a girl on his lap.
He watched the rest of the party goers. He watched Draco Malfoy flit from one girl to another. Or at least Harry thought he did, all he could see was a blond blurry figure who started off with a sort of drunken swagger, and eventually left the room accompanied by Crabbe, Goyle and two girls and staggering so badly that he ended up being half carried by Millicent Bulstrode.
After Malfoy left, Harry became transfixed by another blonde. A girl he vaguely remembered as Daphne Greengrass, a sixth year, but usually so quiet he'd never really noticed her before. She was dancing, twisting and swaying on the dance floor, her hair swishing through the air, accompanied sometimes by a boy, and at other times a younger girl who looked so similar that Harry decided she must be her sister. In Harry's inebriated state he could barely take his eyes off the rhythmic movement. He drank some more of his drink and settled down to watch her until she became a blurry blob and eventually faded away in the direction of the door.
He drank some more.
Harry stared in fascination at the writhing blobs on the armchair. Was that Pansy Parkinson that Blaise was with? He didn't realise he was staring until Zabini lobbed a paper cup at his head. Well at least the colour changing spells on his hair and eyes meant he wouldn't be recognised.
He turned back to watch the other partygoers, and felt his eyes drift closed as beat of the music swirled pleasantly around him.
"Potter?"
Harry groaned and rolled over, bringing up his arms to cover his head.
Why was his bed so hard?
"Potter, wake up!"
Was that Malfoy?
Harry opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. Bright sunlight hit him like a rusty spade to the head, accompanied by a wave of nausea.
"Shut up and drink this." he heard Malfoy snap as he groaned, and he felt a glass bottle being pressed into his hand.
"I'm not stupid enough to drink anything you offer me -" he said blearily
"Yeah? Just the rest of my house then?" Malfoy retorted "What was wrong with you last night? Besides, its just a hangover potion."
Harry opened his eyes a slit to examine the bottle, then started as he heard voices nearby.
"Potter, hurry you need to put on your glamour!" Malfoy said, glancing in the direction of the voices and pushing the bottle at him.
Harry jolted upright, running his hands over his face even though he knew that glamours couldn't be felt.
"Shit!" he muttered, then throwing caution to he winds, grabbed the bottle and took a gulp.
"Just one will do." Malfoy muttered, and Harry forced the potion down, looking up at Malfoy as he felt the effects begin to take place.
"Why are you doing this?" Harry said, his voice growing clearer
"So that you'll think about helping me when I'm in a mess." Malfoy said, glancing up at Harry through his hair. "I haven't given up."
Harry watched him guiltily as he stood up and threw his satchel over his shoulder, and pushing his blond hair out of his face.
"I never really said no." Harry said awkwardly from the ground.
"You have an odd idea of shaking a hand then, Potter." Malfoy said, as he straightened his tie without looking at him and turned and looked away.
Custard wafer." Harry muttered and the fat lady's portrait swung forward to admit him. He stepped through into the common room as quietly as he could, but he could already hear Ron and Hermione among the voices of Gryffindors who'd gotten up for breakfast early.
He craned his neck to see if they were close, hoping to avoid a confrontation if possible and noted that Hermione was standing with Ron and Ginny at a nearby table. Unfortunately as he began to move in the direction of the dormitories, he kicked the leg of a chair rather hard by accident and it skittered across the floor until it hit a rug and then fell over with a clatter.
"Harry!" Hermione whirled around at the sound and advanced on him immediately, her hair flapping wildly behind her. "Where have you been? Ron told me your bed hasn't been slept in-" Ron stared guiltily at the floor as he too stepped forward "and we were worried about you!"
"Sorry." Harry mumbled, and tried to shuffle past. Despite the hangover potion he didn't exactly feel fresh as a daisy, and in the back of his mind a small voice was panicking about exactly how much of a fool he had made of himself last night. In front of Malfoy of all people. Not that he was likely to remember. He should be more worried about everyone else, because it seemed too much to hope that they were all too drunk to notice a bruised and scarred Harry Potter was lying unconscious in their midst. What had he been thinking?
"No Harry! I'm serious! Where have you been-?" Hermione made as if to block his way, then froze, eyes narrowing.
"Have you been drinking?" She sniffed the air around his face suspiciously.
"What? No!" he protested feebly, and saw Ron frown.
"Harry you don't drink," his friend said uncertainly
"You stink of alcohol!" Hermione burst out, looking furious.
"Harry mate…if you're depressed, this isn't the way to deal with it." Ron said uncomfortably, stepping forward and Hermione's features softened. Apparently this had not occurred to her. Harry, unwilling to pursue the path that the conversation had taken decided to tell the truth.
"I wasn't drinking because of that! I was at a party!" he snapped, hoping they would back off. Instead Hermione looked shocked and worried, and Ron looked hurt. Harry stifled the twinge of guilt in his stomach.
"Harry…" Hermione began, then stopped, looking very upset. "Harry - I wish you would be our friend again."
"I am your friend." Harry said slowly, hoping they weren't going to demand an apology for his actions, or worse a long heart-to-heart about his feelings. He just wanted a nap before breakfast…
"It's just…" Hermione hesitated "We feel like we don't know you anymore!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this!" she waved a hand at him and he looked down at his new clothes which he had been as he slept on the armchair all night. His jeans looked fine but his t-shirt was very creased and crumpled and he self consciously tried to pull it straight as he spoke. He didn't look that bad, in fact he was sure he had a fairly decent 'just rolled out of bed' look - and in a good way.
"I'm going to get changed anyway, what does it matter if my clothes are wrinkled?"
"I meant the clothes themselves Harry, not how they look!" Hermione said exasperatedly "When did you get them?"
"Er - yeah, I bought myself some new clothes earlier this summer. I thought you'd noticed before. Why is that…a problem?" he said the last word uncertainly. He had no idea where Hermione was going with this.
"We did notice and it's not a problem, Harry." Hermione sighed "But really - it's not you. You never used to wear things like this."
"What, new clothes?" Harry said, feeling miffed "Did you expect me to keep wearing Dudley's old crap for the rest of my life? It's not like I can't afford to wear new things for once!"
"But do you have to flaunt it so much?" Ron cut in, his voice carefully neutral.
Harry stared at him.
"How much did those cost you? Dean says they would have cost a bomb from muggle shops, and I just don't understand why you would want to show off your … wealth. You never used to before." Ron looked away as the tone of his voice turned into something more unpleasant.
Harry felt heat rising in his face. He couldn't believe that Ron, who had everything Harry wanted, a big family who loved him, no impending fatal destiny, and most of all a life with the opportunity to last more than the next couple of years, was still holding this grudge over his wealth.
"I understand about the contact lenses," Hermione continued "I mean, it must make it easier to play quidditch, but along with that hair…"her nose wrinkled slightly in distaste "It just looks like you're trying to look good. As if you're trying to fit the hero image."
"And what's wrong with wanting to look good?" Harry snapped, again feeling self conscious, this time because of the state his hair must be in, "And isn't that what people want? For me to look like a hero? So they can believe that I can save the world more easily? So they can overlook the fact that I'm just some scruffy kid?!"
"Oh Harry!" Hermione said sympathetically, not getting it at all "You don't have to prove anything to anyone! And dressing up like this won't make a difference to your real friends - Ron and I will always believe in you, and we know you can do it!"
"And what if I want to look good, just for me?" Harry said angrily "What if I want girls to like the way I look, what if I'm doing this so that I can feel good about myself!"
There was a pause, and Ron an Hermione exchanged glances.
"The Harry I knew didn't care about looks." Hermione said finally "What changed?"
"Oh I don't know!" Harry snapped "Can't I change? Maybe I grew a backbone and realised that I could control my own life, that I don't have to do anything I don't want that there was no reason why I should ever have had to sleep in a cupboard! Maybe I've realised that I have a bank vault the size of bloody Hogwarts and I'm able to actually do what I want with my money!"
"You slept in a cupboard-?" Hermione began uncertainly, but was cut off by Ron.
"So what?" Ron snapped "Now you've decided to turn into bloody Malfoy and start boasting about being rich, what's next?"
Harry turned to look at his friend and saw open jealousy and anger in his eyes. He felt a rush of fury.
"What's next, Ron?" He hissed "Well, what happens next is my friends turn against me, isn't that right?"
"Harry-"
"Shut up, Hermione." he said and she clapped a hand to her mouth.
"How dare-!" Ron shouted
"SHUT UP!" Harry screamed and suddenly the entire common room fell into silence and Harry felt all eyes on him.
"That's right, Hermione." he said quietly, his voice forcedly calm. "I'm taking pride in my appearance just because I can. I don't care about what you, or Ron think, because I'm doing this for ME. For the first time in my life, I'm doing something for me. And If I want to spend hundred of galleons doing it," he turned to Ron "then I bloody well will."
"You selfish, arrogant prick!" Ron yelled
"Why?" Harry asked simply, ignoring his stomach churning and not just because he was angry.
"You - you-" Ron spluttered "-think it's okay to waste all that money and you treat us like we don't matter anymore!"
"Yes Ron." Harry spoke calmly "I want to live my life while I still can, and if you're holding me back because you're jealous of the only thing my parents left me - money, then clearly you don't care about me at all. If I could swap lives I would, and then you could watch everyone you care about drop dead to protect you, and while you're doing that, I'd enjoy having brothers and a sister and parents and find time to whine about not having fame or money."
The silence in the common room was oppressive, and Harry didn't drop Ron's eyes. He plunged his hand into his pocket and Ron flinched. Harry wondered if he'd thought he was going to pull out his wand and hex him. Instead he held a fist full of galleons.
"Seeing as how money is more important to you than having a family, or sticking by your friends, I think this should be enough compensation for losing me."
He flung the galleons to the floor at Ron's feet and then stormed up the stairs to the dormitory.
9
