Chapter 11

The Den Within the Den

Harry woke up from yet another nightmare, this time one where Bellatrix Lestrange was dancing on a mountain of skulls, kicking them gleefully down the slopes while whirling under the Dark Mark, which glowed green and was set like a sore against a stormy sky. Just lovely what the brain can conjure up.

It was early, Saturday, pre-dawn. He was contemplating if he should try to get a few more hours in, when he heard the sound of someone getting up and walking towards the fire. A whispered Incendio lit it. The wood popped and crackled. He decided to see whoever was also up at this hour, so he put on his glasses, shuffled on his slippers and eased open the curtain of his four-poster bed. He smiled.

"Oh. Hey, Harry. Nightmare again?"

It was Ron. He was wrapped in a woollen blanket like a shawl and had his feet curled under him on the sofa. Harry padded over and joined him.

"What you doing up?" He yawned.

"Got my Animagus class in a bit," Ron said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the others.

"Yeah but not for ages yet."

"Wasn't sleeping. Woke up about an hour ago and couldn't get back into it."

"Anything I can help with?"

Ron puffed his cheeks up with air and blew the breath out slowly. He shrugged.

"I dunno." It sounded liked he'd wanted to say something more, but instead he stopped and switched to saying Harry's hair was all... he gestured, making little explosions with his hands around his head.

Harry rubbed his hair to flatten it. Ron smiled. He made the movement again, only more explosive. Harry gave up trying.

"Hey, it's nice and warm over here, mind if I get Sev out? She'd love it."

"Um. I guess."

Severina, largely, liked to keep to her vivarium. And to herself. Snakes enjoyed spending time with other creatures like they enjoyed a good meal. Once a week. But in the colder weather, Harry had found her increasingly willing to share his body heat. The others in the dorm were wary of her, but had gotten used to the idea of late. Ron, however, having been away at the shop or with Hermione a lot, before the break-up, had yet to spend much time with her at all since Harry first got her and she'd stayed in his room at the Burrow.

Harry scooped her out of her enclosure and draped her around his neck. He headed back to the fire and - carefully - sat down next to Ron in front of the fire, which was beginning to heat up a bubble of air around them.

Ron and the snake eyed each other. Severina curled around Harry's neck to stare at him with her black, unblinking eyes.

After a beat, Ron shifted a little closer. "She is... quite cute, I suppose."

She tipped her head to regard him. With her upturned snout, she looked especially endearing. Vain thing, he hasn't got any mice you know, Harry thought.

"She won't bite," Harry said. Then: "Well, hang on."

He looked down at her, going slightly cross-eyed to do so. "Sev - don't bite him, please," he said in whispered Parseltongue.

"I wasssn't going to , I ssswear," she answered.

"Good. Hey, Ron. You wanna hold her?"

"Uhh..."

Harry took that for consent and before Ron could protest he plopped Severina in his hands. She coiled around them instinctively.

"Oh! She's... kind of stronger than I expected. And smooth..."

"Sev, settle," Harry warned as she went to slither up Ron's arm to loop around his neck, as she was used to doing with him.

"I- it's OK," Ron said, while she moved. Her body wiggled into position over his shoulders and she flicked her tongue in contentment.

"Thisss one isss... very warm," she hissed.

"What's this week's class about?" Harry asked as he reached over to untuck the end of Sev's tail from Ron's armpit.

"I dunno really. Think they're filling time since the potion thing. Been a lot of theory, lately. Meditation and stuff, to get in the right headspace. Discussions about the 'inner animal'. All the times it's gone horribly wrong for other people. And some folk had to re-do the leaf stage, 'course, so they're kind of going over some stuff again."

"What's next, then?"

"Gotta drink the potion we made the other week. During a lightning storm." He pulled a face. "There's bits of moth in it."

"That's... cool. So you've got to wait for that? Before you can try transforming? Or will the potion... change you? Right away?"

"McGonagall says it doesn't always happen right away. But yeah, it should be possible once we've drunk the potion. She said to meet on the front steps whenever there's a lightning storm so we'll find out then I guess."

"D'you know what kind of animal you'll turn into?"

Ron chuckled. "Maybe a snake, what do you think, Mrs. S- is her last name 'Snape' or what?"

"Severina. Just... Severina."

"Severina Potter. Ha. Sounds like what you and Snape would call your lovechild."

Harry blushed, despite himself. "Don't be gross."

"I didn't name the damn snake, did I?" Ron said, chuckling.

"I'll set her on you."

Ron, his hand betraying only the slightest shake, reached up and stroked her tail. "Aww, she'd never hurt me. We're friends, now."

Harry had to admit, Severina did look pretty content. Her eyelids were half closed.

"I'd like to be something that flies. Or maybe something big, you know. Sirius was that huge black dog and he looked pretty cool. Just hope it's not a rat. Or a weasel."

"Think Malfoy'll really turn out to be a ferret?"

Ron grinned wickedly. "Oh I'm betting on it. Or a cockroach."

"Whatever you are, it'll be pretty cool if you pull this off, man. It's kind of a big deal."

"Yeah well... no guarantees."

"You'll do it. For sure."

Sev had closed her eyes completely now, basking in the glow of the fire and the heat from Ron's skin. Harry leaned over, unable to resist, and gave her a little rub on the head in just the place she liked it. If snakes could purr, she would've purred. Instead, she flicked her feather-light tongue against his knuckles.

"Err... Harry?" Ron said.

Harry realised that his face was now mere inches from Ron's own. He could feel Ron's breath on his cheek. Sour from sleep. But warm. Their eyes met as he turned. Without meaning to pause for quite so long, he found himself getting a bit lost in how the light from the fire danced, twin sparks in blue reflections turned white and gold, like a sunrise on a half-frozen lake, the centre dark and inky...

"Oh. Sorry."

He pulled back. "Shall I take her off you?"

Ron shook his head, slightly, so as not to disturb her. "Nah. Not if she's comfy."

Harry settled. He slid his feet out of his slippers and tucked them under the blanket as well, which Ron loosened so he could pull it over his knees. It was nice. Being up so early, in the quiet. Peaceful. Like there was nothing anyone would need from them for hours yet, and they could pretend the world was their own. They turned to talking about their upcoming Friendly later that that week as the grey dawn began to light up the room.

The next Saturday was All Hallows Eve, a time where the wizards and witches of Hogwarts switched it up for the evening to dress up as... witches and wizards. There wasn't much appetite for costumes, but the eighth years did take the opportunity to throw a small party, with mountains of sweets and big jugs of pumpkin juice that - at some point very early on in the night - was spiked with firewhiskey. Even the five ex-Slytherins came downstairs, if only to sit in their own huddle, as always.

"I'm starting to see the differences," Neville commented. "With, um. Blair I mean. She's gotten smaller. And her face is like... more feminine? I guess?"

Harry had seen the changes in Zabini, too. There was an androgyny that hadn't been there before. It was disconcerting only in the sense that he felt himself wanting to categorise her as a man or a woman, but something in his head resisted seeing both in one. It was unfamiliar, yet familiar. Not bad... just new. He felt like he was having to do a bit of mental rewiring.

Just then, Parkinson shrieked as her glass spat liquid up into her face. Harry stifled a - slightly drunk - giggle. Ron, who had been quite a while getting their drinks, plopped down beside him on the beanbag.

"Oh look at that. Shame. I was hoping she'd give that one to Malfoy. Still, I'll take it," he said, handing Harry and Neville a cup each. Neville eyed his suspiciously before taking a sip and holding it out in front of him like it might explode.

Harry laughed. Ron had been testing a few Wheezes over the last week, setting Decoy Detonators just outside Nott and Malfoy's door and putting edible Dark Marks in the porridge at their end of the table. They hadn't eaten any, which was disappointing since he'd also laced the stuff with U-No-Poo. He'd doused the Den in Instant Darkness powder from the balcony once, when the ex-Slytherins were the only ones there, then set off a whole load of Whiz-Bangs, cackling at their yelps and the blooms of light in the dark. The whole thing had certainly cheered him up quite a bit.

"This is just the warm-up, Harry," Ron said as he - all elbows and knees - settled into Harry's beanbag, which threatened to swallow them both (no idle threat from the furniture at Hogwarts). "I'm testing the waters. I've got big plans for those fucks. Figure there's not much they can do. Fight back and they risk getting expelled... and probably sent to Azkaban as a result, or something."

He'd not even tried to be subtle. Parkinson was glaring at him from across the room. Oh yeah, they knew exactly who was to blame. But he seemed to be right - they were being remarkably restrained, resorting only to verbal abuse rather than a real counter-attack. So far.

"Fuck you, dick-for-brains," she yelled, dripping. "What are you? Twelve? Notice you're getting stupider by the day, sure you're not regressing? What's next, nappies and mummy's tit?"

"At least my mum has tits," Ron shot back.

"Ugh!" She groaned and stomped off. Malfoy caught Harry's eye and, subtly, tapped his own goblet with a questioning look. Not sure why he did it, Harry shook his head a fraction to the left and right. Malfoy, in a similar minute motion, nodded and took a sip.

"Not to worry, I melted a Fainting Fancy in the other one," Ron added, as the blonde promptly keeled over, face-first, into the carpet.

Whoops...

It was late before they all tramped upstairs for bed. Ron was cradling a bunch of sweets in a pouch he'd made with his jumper, which he dumped onto Harry's bed. Neville, Seamus and Harry assumed Dean - except he was still exercising a strict don't-look-at-Dean policy after their embarrassing encounter - were stumbling around getting ready for bed. Ron, on the other hand, was buzzing, both with way too much sugar and the thrill of a well-executed prank. There was an evil glint in his eye as he opened a toffee.

"'Gotta say. Malfoy's face when he woke up. That was good. Sure. But when Finch-Fletchley hit him with that 'rug-munching' comment... oooh that was priceless." He chewed.

Harry pulled the curtains and set a ball of light to glow above them. Like we're in a den within the Den, he thought, a bit addled by the firewhiskey.

He grabbed a chocolate bar and sat back at an angle on the pillows by the headboard as Ron leaned up against one of the wooden pillars at the foot of the bed, their legs draped over one another amongst the packets and wrappers.

It had been a tricky sell, getting Ron to back down from actual murder to a few harmless pranks. But Harry had persuaded him to just try it out for the week and see how he felt. And if it didn't do the job, well then, what is a best friend for if not to be the one you call on when you have a body to bury? Thankfully, Ron seemed to be in his element, channelling his inner Fred and George and using his extensive knowledge of their product range. He hadn't even touched Lee Jordan's bag yet. There were things in there that required... planning. Apparently. Not to mention some stuff that wasn't even ready for the general public yet. He was hoping to pick up a load of things George had set aside for him next week - after taking the appropriate sum out of his paycheque, of course.

"D'you reckon Malfoy's done Parkinson?" Ron asked as he picked toffee out his teeth.

Harry screwed his eyes shut as the imagery flashed across his brain like a rash.

Ron continued. "She's all over him. Or she used to be anyway. Maybe he had her and it turned him off the whole thing."

"Maybe."

Harry found had a lot of trouble picturing Malfoy in bed with a girl, least of all a girl like Parkinson, who seemed too... brash. Big personality. Abrasive. She was confident enough, if a bit plain, but Malfoy seemed too... refined for her. He was taller than Harry, but unlike Ron was slim-built, strong but almost... delicate. Like a deer, Harry decided. He thought of his Patronus then, the one he shared with his father. It had been a while since he'd last cast the spell.

Ron yawned and shifted so he was slumped down, further entangling their legs, then frowned.

"Pass us a pillow, would you?"

Harry did so and he punched it a few times before tucking it under his head.

"Thas better..."

Now that he was comfy and in his own bed, Harry was starting to wane. He could feel his head nodding against his chest, full of food and the floating sensation that you get when you lie down after a night of drinking. Like you're almost drifting out of your own body as the room spins around you, not unpleasantly. He'd dropped his chocolate bar... somewhere... It would get all over the sheets but he found he couldn't bring himself to care. His glowing ball of light was starting to flicker and dim to a pale golden yellow, getting smaller and smaller as he sunk into unconsciousness.

"Hey... s'like a snitch..." Ron muttered to himself and weakly batted for the light, his hand like a cat's paw. The sugar had clearly been a temporary prop to his wakefulness.

Harry giggled, then hiccupped. His eyelids were so, so heavy...

He let the warm, welcoming darkness in. And slept.

For the first time in nearly two months, Harry woke up late after a blessedly nightmare-free slumber. He felt refreshed and didn't even have the hangover he'd expected to be greeted with. That said, he was a bit groggy and gross-feeling from having slept in his robes, and... yep, on the chocolate bar he'd opened the night before. The whole bed crinkled with wrappers, in fact. And, as he rolled over, it wasn't as empty as he remembered and- oh.

He sat up blearily and patted around for his glasses, which has ended up under a pillow. Ron was curled at the end of his bed, mouth open, drooling a little. He arms were tucked under his head, and for someone who'd grown into his height of late, he'd clearly done his best to be as unobtrusive as possible in his sleep. Even so, his legs were dangling off the side.

Given he was still out for the count, Harry forgot to be embarrassed for a minute and just sat there, watching his friend's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. His hair was starting to get longer on the sides again... and he'd lost all of the ruddy colouring he had gained in the summer. Now, his freckles were cast against pale skin, hundreds of them, spattered across his face and neck in clusters like constellations.

There was something otherworldly about the Weasleys, Harry had always thought. Orange eyelashes. That was it, or maybe the blueness of Ron's eyes, or the skin unlike skin he'd seen on anyone else outside the family. Whatever it was... whenever Ron was in a crowd, Harry had a tendency to think of him as the one pebble he'd choose to pick up among the grey slate on a stone beach. Pale, rust-coloured spots, smooth at the edges. Warm from the sun. Slightly rough. The stone that would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. He looked... what was the word?

He looked inviting.

Harry pulled his legs in. At the movement, Ron mumbled something and snorted himself awake, so Harry only had just enough time to look away before his friend opened his eyes.

"Eh? What're you doin' here?" He squinted up at him.

Harry pulled himself round to sit on the edge of the bed. One of his slippers was out of reach.

"We must've fallen asleep," he said, at a pitch a little higher than his usual. "Err, sorry."

"Don' mind..." Ron replied, sleepily. "Ooh, my back just might have somethin' ta say though." He also rolled himself up to sit beside Harry. He mussed Harry's hair affectionately.

"You look a wreck."

Harry would have replied in the same vein, but found he couldn't lie. Seriously, Ron suited the dishevelled look. Very Bill Weasley. It was kind of hard to look at him now, like - if he did - Ron would know he'd been staring at him while he was sleeping.

"I actually feel... pretty good, to be honest. No nightmares for once," he said instead.

"Huh! Really? Thas fuckin' brilliant."

"Yeah."

Harry wondered if the others were awake outside their little curtained room.

"I uh. Hear... I hear you wakin' up quite a lot, you know. My bed's not that far and you... well, you know."

"Yell stuff? Scream? Thrash about?"

"That's about the size of it."

"Figured."

"'S'fine. Think the others cast a muffling spell on their curtains before bed, if that helps."

Harry hadn't known this. it did help, to know he wasn't... on display like that every night. His vulnerabilities laid bare while his defences were down. When it was Voldemort's doing he'd had an excuse. Now... now it was just him, trapped in his own damn head.

"Really? Why don't you?" he asked.

Ron shrugged.

"You might need me," was all he said by way of explanation.

In some ways, that was the start of it.

Or, the preamble, sort of. The real start was the very next night, when Harry found himself running for his life through dark corridors, hundreds of dementors clawing at his back, the terrible, awful cold sucking at his soul and the winding dark ahead, only dark, filled with screams, screams of people he knew, people he loved-

"Shhhhh, shhh..."

His own screams, his own primal, gut-wrenching screams. His green eyes opened. Dark still, but he could just make out a familiar shape.

"It's alright, Harry," Ron whispered.

He was sat on the side of the bed. He had one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other stroking his forehead. Harry whimpered. He felt too exposed, too caught up in the fear, it was too much to be seen in that way, in that state, it was too much... and yet Ron didn't leave like he'd expected now he was awake, and despite feeling so raw that having him there was almost painful, Harry found he didn't want him to go, or to stop circling his thumb over the middle of his forehead, just over the faded lightning-shaped scar.

So he lay there, arms awkwardly by his sides, waiting for his heart to return to a normal rhythm and for his breathing to calm. His eyes were open - he was unwilling to let himself fall back into that black pit of dementors and pain yet - and they adjusted to the dark enough that he could pick out the outline of Ron's face.

"Th... thanks," he said.

"Told you you might need me, didn't I?"

"Wasn't anticipating like... the next night..."

"It's every night. I just. I normally just lie there listening. Sorry."

Harry shook his head, finally dislodging Ron's thumb. His skin felt cool where it had been.

"I didn't know it was as bad as that, you know. Outside my own head," he whispered, feeling ashamed.

"Here, shove over."

"What?"

"Go on, move up."

Harry did as he was told and shuffled to the left side of the double bed. Ron clambered in under the covers, laid on his back and shivered.

"Cold out there," he said, turning his head towards Harry. It was pretty impossible to see his expression, but somehow Harry could tell he was grinning. It was good to have Ron grinning again.

Ron rolled onto his side, his body facing Harry's.

"Go to sleep, yeah?"

Harry didn't quite know what to say. Or if he should say anything. He decided against it. Instead he closed his eyes, and though it was a long, long while before he managed to get to sleep, he did manage it, eventually.

And nearly every night that week, each nightmare ended with the sound of Ron's voice and Ron's warm body lying next to him, until he could sleep again.