Chapter Eleven

"You saw her, Hermione! She's huge! She's like a walking balloon!"

"That's enough, Ron. You shouldn't talk about a professor that way!"

"But Hermione –"

"It's disgusting. She has a genetic problem which makes it hard for her to lose weight! And you're making fun of it!"

"I think she just needs to lay off the sweets," Ron laughed, and several other boys laughed as well.

Harry edged into the room, trying very hard not to be noticed. He wasn't doing a very good job.

"Harry, help me out here," Ron asked, pulling him forward into the group. "You've seen Masterson, haven't you?"

"Er – yeah. Just a few minutes ago."

"And she was like walking lard, right?"

Harry didn't want to answer that question. Yeah, she'd been heavy, but she wasn't all that heavy.

"I don't know, Ron. I didn't think she was that bad."

Hermione took Harry's arm and pulled him toward her. "See, Ron? Not even Harry agrees with you."

"Yeah, but everybody else does." Ron gestured to the other guys in the common room, who were all hanging around Ron.

"So? Who needs you?" All the Gryffindor girls were gathered around and behind Hermione, and when Hermione stood up and went off to her dormitory, all the other girls went, too, except one little chubby third year, who stood up straight and addressed the Gryffindor boys.

"You have no idea what it's like, do you? Being overweight is hard on a girl. You are all so insensitive. I'd be surprised if any one of you still has a girlfriend in the morning."

Neville, who had been up in the boy's dormitory, chose to come down the stairs at the exact moment the little third year was going up, and she gave him a hard shove when he didn't get out of her way fast enough.

"What happened down here?" He asked innocently.

Ron huffed and he and the other boys began saying very loudly how stupid the girls were being, knowing they'd be able to hear from the dormitory. Harry took that opportunity to slip off upstairs.

"Professor Snape?" He murmured as he drew the professor from his pocket.

"Yes, yes. I'm still alive," Snape growled, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to keep warm.

"I was going to ask Hermione to light me a candle or something so I could keep you warm, only now she's stormed off."

"Well, just go and get her."

"I can't. Boys can't get into the girls' dormitory. Something about Godric Gryffindor not trusting boys."

"Very wise," Snape grumbled.

Harry gently set him inside the little drawer and stole a candle from Neville's night table. He lit it with a match from Dean's table and set it very carefully inside the drawer.

"Do you know any spells or anything that I can use to keep this from burning out or from setting fore to the drawer?"

"Only Deflagrare will stop the candle from burning. It's not a hard spell, Potter, though I'm not entirely sure you can handle it."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. "I can do it. I know I can."

"You're sure, Potter? What if you mess up? I could be caught in a burning drawer. And it would be completely your fault if I died."

"Right. Maybe I can't. I'll – uh – see if I can't get a message to Hermione or something. The only problem is that I can't tell her."

"Tell her what?"

Harry whipped around to find Hermione standing less than a few feet from him and the little Snape.

"That – er – ah –"

"Come on, Harry. You've always been a terrible liar. Tell me what?"

Harry was torn between telling his dear friend and keeping his promise to Dumbledore. He thought for a good three minutes. In the end, Harry took a deep breath and reached into his nightstand drawer. "You – um – er – can you keep a secret?"

Deflagrare I kind of made up. I looked the word up in a Latin dictionary, and then fixed the ending so that it sounded more "spell-like." I hope anyone who has studied Latin will not be offended by my obvious lack of Latin knowledge.