Chapter 5 – The Great Fake Fellated Snake, an Irate Mate, and a Late Update With an Ex-Inmate

Neither Harry nor Hermione were prepared for Lavender Brown to plop down opposite them at the Gryffindor table during breakfast Saturday morning. Harry looked up from his plate and couldn't hide his wince as The Bill showed him the blond girl's broken body on the floor of the Entry Hall, Fenrir Greyback having just bitten her after she'd fallen from the balcony above. Thankfully the girl seemed not to notice, her attention apparently on something much more interesting to her. "Have you two heard the news about Draco Malfoy?"

Harry reacted very calmly but he noticed Hermione's subtle gasp at the mention of the boy who had attacked her less than 24 hours previously. "Can't say that we have, Lavender. What has the Great Albino Ferret of Wiltshire done now?"

The perky Fourth Year giggled before answering. "Well, apparently sometime just before dinner last night he got dragged into the Hospital Wing by those two apes that follow him around."

"Now Lavender, that's not nice. Calling Crabbe and Goyle that is an insult to apes everywhere."

Lavender smiled brightly at Harry, causing a previously unknown and completely unexpected spike of jealousy to rise up in Hermione. The other girl continued before anything could come of it. "Well, anyway, apparently they carried him in with a broken knee and some weird compression fractures on his ribs. When they were asked what happened to Draco, none of them spoke up." She leaned in over the table and made a little gesture for the two opposite her to do the same, which they did. "There's a very interesting story going around Slytherin as to what happened; apparently Draco got hurt in some kind of lovers' spat. From what I hear, after Potions yesterday they all met up in an abandoned section of the dungeons. It would seem neither of the other two wanted to play second fiddle for Draco's . . . fiddle," Lavender continued, giggling again at her wit, "and in the course of their . . . exertions Goyle hexed Crabbe, who fell on Draco while they were . . . in flagrante delicto, so to speak. That's how he got hurt so badly."

Harry wasn't sure why Draco and his goons refused to say what really happened, and he didn't really care; this rumor was music to Harry's ears, and he intended to draw maximum laughs out of this event, unable to hide the wide smile that crossed his face. "Thanks for the info, Lavender. It's . . . very interesting, and certainly very entertaining."

"My pleasure, Harry," the girl almost purred as she stood up to head down the table to where Parvati was sitting with a couple of Fifth Year girls. The departing Gryffindor gave Harry a saucy wink and departed with a noticeable sway to her hips, and Hermione had to consciously stop herself from drawing her wand. Harry chuckled at Hermione's 'harumph' due to the girls flirtatious departure, but disarmed the situation by gently grabbing her hand under the table and reminding her who he was looking forward to having a date with in Hogsmeade the following weekend.

{-}

Overall, Harry was also in a good mood that weekend for a number of reasons. As in the timeline before, after dinner that Friday he had received a response from Sirius to the letter he'd sent on 1 November. This time, however, apparently he and Remus had linked up due to Harry sending both of them notes that he needed to meet with them, and so they were supposed to get together in the Shrieking Shack after Harry's late Astronomy lesson Tuesday into Wednesday. Harry had a few things that he wanted to go over with the 2 Marauders, plus he couldn't promise himself that he wouldn't hug Sirius to within an inch of his life when he saw them. For Harry, it had been almost 2 years since Sirius had died, and about 2 weeks since he'd seen Remus's body lying in the Great Hall next to Tonks, who was someone else he'd have to 'meet' since she was not only a trained Auror but based on his few interactions with her seemed a genuinely good person.

Harry had originally figured he and Hermione could sneak off to the Shack using the Cloak without drawing too much attention since people were pretty much ignoring them, but that was before he had jumped up on the Gryffindor table and started repairing his reputation. Gryffindor brashness had helped his reputation but totally screwed his low profile. In the two days since his rather dramatic actions in the Great Hall he'd been approached by many members of the student body. Most of them came to apologize to him, both for Second Year and for the previous two weeks. Some were better than others; a few tried to justify their actions with the 'walks like a duck, quacks like a duck' logic which, while Harry understood, did not endear those people to him greatly. Thankfully they were people he mostly didn't care about anyway and just wanted off his back. He could tell the people that were honestly sorry for not believing him, and those were the people who truly earned his forgiveness. The Weasley Twins had injected their usual brand of levity into their apology, which had nonetheless come from the heart. Neville was his usual nervous self but was obviously genuinely repentant. Hannah Abbot had come up to him after breakfast on Saturday apologizing pretty much on behalf of all of Hufflepuff; he remembered the conversation he'd overheard Second Year, and her attempt to stand up for him despite the peer pressure from her housemates, and so accepted with a smile that made the girl blush and Hermione 'harumph' as she had with Lavender. The Gryffindor Chasers, however, had been his favorite apology to date by a wide, wide, WIDE margin. They had caught him in the Common Room late Friday night and wrapped him in a hug all at the same time, pressing their athletic and quite delectable bodies against him as Katie and Alicia kissed his cheeks and Angelina kissed his nose while all three whispered apologies and flirtatiously double-entendre'd 'we'll make it up to you's in his ears. He theorized it was those comments more than even the feel of the three lovely ladies that had led to the very vivid dream of a fivesome with them and Hermione he'd had that night, and based on how his brown-haired best friend had reacted to Lavender and Hannah the following morning he was very glad Hermione had gone to bed before they'd approached him.

In addition to the rumor mill grinding out the story of Draco and his allegedly ferret-fellating comrades, Saturday morning had brought Rita's article in the Daily Prophet and, for the most part, it was good. At least this time she had profiles and interviews with each contestant instead of the train wreck it had been in the before-time. There had been a blurb during the (much longer than the others Champions) portion of the article dedicated to him about how he'd 'stood tall and defiantly upon the table for the house of the brave, facing down peers and professors alike, to not only state that he was innocent but prove it by spilling his own blood.' It was a bit much, but it got the point across, so Harry was okay with it. He'd still keep an eye on Rita, opportunistic bug that she was, but at the moment she was behaving so he pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind.

But it was now Sunday evening and there was one person in particular who still had not come forward and apologized to him, and it was the one person who he was most conflicted about; one Ronald Bilius Weasley. It was Ron's disbelief and actions against him, in both timelines, that had hurt the most. At the same time, he knew Ron was utter shit at apologies or repentance, or really anything that required more than, as Hermione had once put it, 'the emotional range of a teaspoon.' Still, you'd think the guy who you had considered your best mate for, in this timeline, the last 3 years, could find it within himself to put his big girl knickers on and say that he was sorry for being an angry, jealous, emotionally crippled, backstabbing, rabble-rousing, hate-mongering, abandoning . . .

Alright, maybe Harry had some issues of his own to work out with regard to Ron. But he still thought the redhead was a git for not believing him.

Harry and Hermione had finished their training session Sunday with about 2 hours to curfew, and so Hermione had decided to head to the Library. Harry thought he'd spend some time in the Common Room catching up with the Quidditch team and generally relaxing. In hindsight, he should have known that 'Harry Potter' and 'relaxing evening' should never be used in the same sentence.

"Uhhh . . . Harry, mate, can I have a word?" Harry turned his head up from his very entertaining conversation with Katie and Fred to see Ron standing there with a look that, to Harry, seemed only vaguely penitent. At the seated boy's nod and hand motion to 'get on with it,' Ron flushed before continuing, "in private?"

"Ron," Harry said, standing up, "your brothers were man enough to apologize to me in front of everyone. So was Neville. Hell, even the girls had enough balls to say they were sorry in public, though I'll tell you for free even with me saying that there's not a single thing man-ish about those three."

"Cheers, Harry," Angelina said with a laugh.

The boy in question smiled before turning back to Ron. "If you've got something to say to me, be man enough to say it in front of everyone." Ron's ears reddened but he continued to just look down and grind the toe of one foot into the floor and Harry sighed. "Ron, you've been my mate for 3 years. The others I can understand; they don't know me nearly as well. You and I . . . well, we've been through some shit together. And I thought that meant my saying I didn't put my name in the Goblet would have been enough for you. But it wasn't, and no offense to anyone else in this room, but that made your betrayal a hell of a lot worse than theirs."

Ron's head shot up at the word 'betrayal.' "Harry, I'd never –"

"But you did Ron," Harry said angrily, his emotions getting the better of him. "You deserted me. You badmouthed me at every opportunity. I'm supposedly your best mate, and yet you did those things. Because of a fucking magic cup!" He breathed deep, trying to get himself under control. "That's not something that is going to be fixed with an 'I'm sorry,' Ron. Not by a long shot."

Ron looked around the room warily; every eye was on them, and some people had even come down from the dorm to bear witness. "Okay, Harry, I get this is going to take some time for you to get your head back on straight. Why don't you take the week to settle a bit? Then I'll buy you a butterbeer at the Broomsticks next weekend and we can bury the hatchet."

Does he really think buying me a fucking drink is going to solve all this? Harry wondered to himself before shaking his head sadly. "Ron, not only is that not even in the realm of things that could fix stuff between us, but I have a date next weekend." I guess that particular plaster had to be ripped off sometime.

"What?" Ron gaped. "With who? No one in this school has been talking to you for weeks except . . ." Ron's eyes got wide as he realized who Harry's date must be with, and Ron saw red. "You fucking bastard, you know I have a thing for Hermione!"

If Harry had thought about it, he might not have yelled out what he said next for general consumption, given his currently restored 'celebrity' status and the speed information traveled within the castle. "Yeah, well did it ever enter that pea brain of yours that I might have a thing for her too?!"

Ron seemed to not hear Harry's response, though he was sure it would hit the rumor underground by breakfast. "You stand there and talk about betrayal while at the same time snaking your way into Hermione's knickers behind my back?" Ron probably would have continued his tirade, except he found it was very hard to talk with his mouth full.

Of Harry's fist.

Ron stumbled and fell on his ass, Harry standing over him with a look of murder in his eyes. "Don't insinuate something so demeaning about Hermione ever again. She's an intelligent, thoughtful, beautiful woman and the very definition of a true best friend. She didn't need me slicing my own hand open to prove I wasn't a liar. She knew, because she knows me. She's given of herself without question, not only this year to help me train and learn so that I can survive this nightmare that I've been forced into but in all the years we've known each other. Meantime, you've sat in the corner saying 'Oh, woe is me! I'm nothing but a whiny little bitch who ditches his best friend whenever things don't go the way I want. I wouldn't know hard work if it jumped up and bit me on the arse, but I still expect the world to hand me everything I want on a silver platter." Harry sighed. "I'm tired of it, Ron. You ditched me when I needed you most, and worse than that you made it out like you were the one who was wronged. And then when it's shown that I was right all along, instead of sacking up and admitting you were a twat you still want to play the wounded party. Well fuck that. And while we're at it, fuck you. Come talk to me again when you've grown the hell up." Harry didn't wait for a response from anyone; he just stormed toward the Portrait Hole and exited a now loudly chattering and gossiping Gryffindor Tower.

{-}

There was about a half hour left until curfew when Hermione verily skipped into the Common Room. She'd had a very good day; her and Harry had finished their homework for the coming week before having a productive training session. A few more spells had been discovered, learned, practiced, and were well on their way to being mastered. Additionally, it seemed the events of Friday had thinned the wall that separated her and Harry's friendship from 'beyond friendship.' There hadn't been anything overt; Harry's stares as they practiced were still in abundance, but they had been joined by an increased closeness as they sat together reading over the text of the spellbook and brief touches that, taken separately, would be seen as the innocent, innocuous interactions of two close friends but seemed to spark quite a bit more in both of them than that. Then she'd had a chance to spend some time in her favorite space in the castle, sitting in 'her' spot in the Library and reading more of the book on the history of the Wizengamot that she hadn't had the chance to pick back up with everything that had been going on for the last couple of weeks.

And so she was completely blindsided when she was verbally and physically attacked as soon as she entered the Common Room.

"Is it true, Hermione?" a bloody-nosed and swollen-lipped Ron asked/yelled into her face as his hands clamped onto both of her upper arms and squeezed hard, making her wince in pain. "It is, isn't it? You decided to throw yourself at Harry, hmm? Decided to whore yourself out to that attention-getting prat? Is it the bad boy thing that gets your knickers wet or the kicked puppy –"

Ron sure was spending a lot of time on the floor tonight, this time courtesy of a vicious right-handed slap from Hermione.

Fred and George, who had not risen quickly enough to stop their runaway brother from opening his mouth, shook their heads. "Saw that comin'," George commented dryly. Hermione paid them no heed, however, her entire being focused on the redhead currently on the floor.

"Ronald Weasley, how dare you? Where do you get off saying something like that about Harry or myself? And what delusion made you think that you have any say in what I do or whom I date?" As with Harry, without the haze of anger Hermione would never have confirmed that her and Harry were going on a date, and she certainly wouldn't have said what she said next with so many witnesses around. "I will go out with whomever I darn well please; heck, I'll go ask Viktor Krum out on a date if it suits me." She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists at her sides, desperately reigning in the temper that was generally slow to rise but when it boiled over, it boiled over hard. After a few seconds her eyes opened again and she spoke. "Let me lay out some simple facts for you, Ronald. Harry is my best friend and a wonderful person, someone whose attention any girl would be lucky to have; I'm just glad that it happened to turn to me. You, however, are an immature, jealous, unthinking cretin and are officially persona non grata to my love life, and while we're at it why don't we extend that to my entire life." Hermione looked up at the twins. "Where's Harry?" she asked simply.

Fred was about to make a typically twin-ish comment before he saw the look she was giving the both of them. That is definitely one scary witch he thought to himself before he answered. "No idea. He said basically the same thing as you did to Ronniekins here, just with a lot of expletives, before clocking him just like you and storming out of the tower. Not sure where he went after that."

Hermione nodded, spun on her heel, and headed back for the door. Just before reaching it, she stopped and spun about again, seeing that Fred and George had just gotten Ron back to his feet. "Oh, and Ronald? If you ever lay your hands on me again, I'll hex you in ways that will make you useless to a woman for the rest of your life." She looked him up and down quickly. "Not that you'd be much use to one otherwise."

Hermione's exit from Gryffindor Tower left the room in much the same state it had been when Harry had left less than a half hour before. She paid it no heed; she had a very good idea about where Harry would have gone. She scurried across the Seventh Floor and entered the Room of Requirement to find it in shambles. Parts of training dummies were scattered about everywhere, and the few that were still standing were taking a powerful beating courtesy of the wand work of one Harry Potter as he gave in to his anger at his former best mate. She stayed near the door with her wand in hand in case she needed to cast a Shield Charm, as Harry seemed not to have noticed her entrance.

When there were no longer any standing . . . or limbed . . . or headed . . . and one's groin was on fire . . . dummies, Harry seemed to crumple right before her eyes. His wand fell from his grasp and he fell to his knees, his head drooped as if in defeat. Hermione hurried over to him, coming down to his level and putting a hand on his shoulder. His head jerked up. "Is everything alright, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione could only shake her head and smile. "Typical Harry Potter; I come into this room to find you dismembering dummies after socking our friend in the jaw, and you ask how I am." He cringed a bit, thinking she would be mad that he'd punched Ron, before she continued. "Don't feel bad; I socked him one too."

"I'd have paid good galleons to see that," Harry responded, managing a weak smile.

"Yeah, well, he deserved it," she said simply.

Harry nodded in agreement. "So . . . what do we do now?"

Hermione helped him to his feet before wrapping him in a hug, burying her head in his chest and enjoying the feel of his arms encircling her. "Exactly what we've been doing, Harry. Nothing has changed as far as I'm concerned, except that I've got one less best friend."

"Yeah, me too," Harry remarked. "Good thing the one I still have is so awesome."

"It is, isn't it?" she replied cheekily, and smiled as she lifted her head and looked at Harry, who matched her gaze and her smile. Their eyes met, faces inches apart as they beheld each other. Harry heard her screams in the back of his mind but they were being drowned out by the thumping of his own heart and the sound of Hermione's slightly quickened breathing. Both licked their lips almost simultaneously, and each moved almost imperceptibly closer to the other. "A very good thing," she whispered, but remembering herself she pulled back slightly, a deep blush on her cheeks. There was still . . . something . . . that she couldn't put her finger on. Something that wasn't necessarily troubling about Harry but that she still needed to work out. She couldn't let herself take that next step until she'd figured out what it was. "We should get back. It's almost curfew."

"Yeah," Harry replied, disappointed that they had broken apart but glad that they both were still on the same page. He decided to try and play off any tension between them as he offered Hermione his arm. "Madame?" he said in as deep a voice as he could manage, which wasn't very deep at all. "May I escort you to your quarters?"

Hermione smiled and slipped her arm through his. "I'd be delighted good sir."

{-}

It was surprisingly easy to slip away from the crowd of sleepy 14-year-olds after their Astronomy lesson Tuesday night; they simply walked at the back of the group headed for the tower, letting the distance open up a little more as time went by, and then slipped into an alcove when everyone else had turned a corner. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his bag and did his best to make it cover the both of them; even at this stage in their growth it wasn't an easy thing to fit two people in a space meant for one. There were an innumerable number of (mostly unintentional but totally enjoyable) bumps, grinds, grabs, and gropes as the pair stealthily exited the castle and headed for the Whomping Willow. A quick Levitation Charm to hit the knot in the tree trunk and they were back in the narrow passageway that led to 'The Most Haunted House in Britain.' Once inside they shed the Cloak, leaving it and their bags at the Willow entrance to the tunnel so as not to complicate their trip; it wasn't as bad as it had been when he, Ron, and Hermione had moved through it to find Voldemort and Nagini, but it was still uncomfortable having to hunch over in order to move down the low-ceilinged passage.

As they approached the other end they noticed a weak light coming from the room where the tunnel ended; obviously at least one of the two Marauders was already in the house. Knowing this quickened Harry's pace; he wasn't sure how he was going to react seeing the two of them, but he was eager to find out. A quick peak out of the exit to confirm it was both Sirius and Remus and Harry practically sprang out of the hole, pausing only long enough to help Hermione out before turning and wrapping Sirius in a hug.

"It's good to see you, Harry," Sirius chuckled as he patted Harry on the back. Harry, for his part, was trying very hard not to cry as The Bill put Sirius falling through the Veil of Death on repeat in his mind. That was a small price to pay, though, to see his godfather again after 2 of the hardest years of his life. Yes, they hadn't had very long together before he'd been taken the last time, but just knowing that there was someone out there that wanted to be his family, that he could turn to no matter what (aside from Hermione, of course), lightened his soul just a little.

"It's good to see you too, Padfoot," Harry finally managed to get out. He broke their hug and turned toward Remus. "How are you, Moony?" he asked, reaching out and shaking the werewolf's hand while The Bill showed him the man's pale, dusty corpse in the Great Hall during the battle that had taken his life. He discovered he was more neutral than he originally expected in regard to Remus; yes, he had named Harry as his son's godfather, but he'd also very nearly abandoned that same child before he was born in order to follow Harry on his mission. Still, seeing the man alive and well was a boon.

"As well as can be, all things considered," Remus replied easily as Hermione was busy hugging Sirius. "Well, let's get down to it; it's already late and I get the feeling we have a number of things to go over."

The four of them took seats on some overturned crates that lay in the room, the lantern the older two had brought providing sufficient light even in the dingy old house. Harry started them off. "Alright, so by now you two know that I'm being forced to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament this year."

"Any luck figuring out who put your name in?" Sirius asked immediately. The fact that Harry knew Sirius believed him without having to have it proven to him was just another mark for the Animagus and against Ron.

"No, but I think it might be related to that dream I told you about from earlier this summer, and maybe what happened at the World Cup."

"You think Death Eaters had something to do with it?" Remus asked, seemingly in disbelief.

"More their boss, but yeah. Either that or it's one hell of a series of coincidences. I mean, I have a dream about Voldemort and Wormtail taking refuge in an old manor house, talking about a plan that required me, and I wake up with my scar hurting the way it did during First Year with Quirrell. Then there's a Death Eater attack, which hasn't happened since '81, at the World Cup. And then my name just happens to come out of the Goblet of Fire? The whole thing stinks."

"Wait . . . you never said anything about Peter being in your dream," Sirius growled out. "Do you know where they were?"

"No, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you," Harry admitted. At the hurt look on his godfather's face he continued. "Sirius, will you please stop and think for a second? You've already gone to prison once because of that arsehole, and all of Britain wants to see your soul munched on by a Dementor. That last thing I'm going to do is encourage you to gallivant all over the countryside to satisfy a vendetta." The older man still looked unconvinced, and Harry growled. "Damnit Sirius, I need you. Whole, hale, and healthy. Preferably free too, and we'll work on that, but can we focus on the other three first?"

The other three in the room could only nod at Harry's logic. It was a subdued but agreeing Sirius who spoke next. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, for the moment the plan is to compete in the Tournament."

"Are you cracked?" Sirius answered. "No way in hell I'm going to let you do that! That 'whole, hale, and healthy' thing works both ways, you know. The Tournament was cancelled for a reason; people die playing this game."

"This is certainly no game," Hermione responded, "but there's also no choice. Binding magical contract."

"Listen, I'm not sure you understand all of the players here," Sirius countered. "Barty Crouch was on his way to being Minister of Magic before his wife died and he had to put his Death Eater son in prison, which he did without blinking an eye. Igor Karkaroff is a 'former' Death Eater," Sirius said, making quotes with his fingers at the word 'former.' "Ludo Bagman would be dangerous as hell if he hadn't taken too many Bludgers to the head. Now he's just an idiot and a compulsive gambler. I wouldn't put it past him to try and rig things to get a payday; get people to bet big on you and then get you planted so he can collect."

"Well, keeping with the game analogy, this is the hand we've been dealt," Harry answered. "And unfortunately I can't fold." Sirius seemed ready to open his mouth again, so Harry put his hand up to cut his godfather off. "I promise not to intentionally do anything exceedingly stupid. Risky? Sure. Logically questionable? Almost no doubt. Borderline illegal? I'll neither confirm nor deny. But I'll steer away from stupid. But I need you to do the same, Sirius. You came back to Britain for me, and I can't tell you what that means to me, but you're still a wanted man until we get our hands on Wormtail." Knowing the answer, he nonetheless asked the question. "Is there someplace you can stay while all of this is going on? I don't want you hiding in a cave for months on end if it can be helped."

"There's my family's house in London, I suppose. No telling what shape it's in, but with Mother's death it would have come to me."

Harry nodded before playing one of the cards he'd held up his sleeve; something to help both Sirius and a dear friend. "Do either of you know if house elves can get owl post?"

"I mean, they have names just like anyone else, so I'd imagine so," Remus answered.

"Harry, what are you thinking?" Hermione asked warily. She was still not sold on the house elf situation, but was trying to sublimate her knee-jerk reaction with information.

"Well, we happen to know two out-of-work house elves that would love a place that might need fixing up," Harry offered. "Sirius, do you have any issue with paying a free elf?"

"If the house is in as bad a shape as I imagine it's in, they'd earn every Knut," the Animagus answered.

"Send owls to a pair of elves named Dobby and Winky. Dobby was a Malfoy elf that I tricked Lucy into freeing, and Winky was Crouch's elf before he blamed her for casting the Dark Mark at the World Cup with my wand and freed her unjustly. I'm sure both would be willing to come work for you. Hell, make sure to mention you're my godfather and Dobby might work for free."

Sirius spent a moment just staring at his godson. "Your life really is one 'no one would believe this shit' story after another isn't it?"

"Godfather, you don't know the half of it."

A/N: As always, thanks for your favorites, follows, views, and reviews.