Between Friends
by Icarus
The Gryffindor common room was a complete and utter disaster, Harry decided. It looked like someone had hit a Fotomat with an Exploding Charm. Every table, chair, stool, and even much of the floor was taken up with Hermione's project, there were moving, waving, smiling photos just everywhere. Dozens more were stuck to the walls with various gluing spells, or hovering in midair.
Hermione had her wand handy and she was gloweringly ready to use it, should anyone decide to move or otherwise touch her pictures. Even Dean wasn't such a fool as to tamper - tempting targets as they were - not with that deadly wand aimed in his direction. Neville attempted to walk around, and found himself levitated over the project and set gently down by the door.
"I wasn't gonna touch it!" he complained.
"We're both safer this way," Hermione said curtly.
She was making a photo album for her parents for Christmas. She had taken a lot of their old Muggle-style photos, made new prints, and developed them wizard-fashion so that they were all moving. It was a nice gesture, Harry thought. But certainly a lot of work. For once he was grateful the Dursley's had never given him more than toothpicks and old socks. He wasn't obligated to get them anything extravagant in return.
Ron was sprawled out among the stacks, eyeing the pictures in his hands warily and looking somewhat confused. He gave Harry a helpless look, as Hermione scolded him.
"No, Ron - those need to be organized by year! The others by vacation. Now get it straight, or I'll just have to do all of it myself!"
Harry couldn't see why Ron didn't take her up on her generous offer. But somehow Hermione had suckered him into this. Ron struggled on gamely.
Harry took pity on Ron, set aside his Firebolt and helped for a bit, until he grew bored. There was one photo Harry particularly liked, of a grinning three-year-old Hermione, her hair poofed like an angry cat's. She was on a swing and came right at you. It was a great action shot. But after less than an hour, Harry had lost patience with the never-ending project, though Ron it seemed, was ready to stick it out until the bitter end. He hovered over Hermione anxiously.
"Have fun," Harry smiled to him, picking up his Firebolt and waving goodbye to the exasperated Ron. This was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday.
He'd been lucky. Several Dark Arts classes had been canceled all in a row. It had now been over a week since he'd had to endure one. At first Harry had studied furiously, terrified this halt might mean an excruciating test. But none had come, and Harry began slack off and enjoy his unexpected break. The normal school schedule seemed a breeze by comparison. Best yet, Snape had stopped staring and seemed, if anything, to be avoiding Harry.
Harry quickened his pace through the corridors. He didn't have Quidditch practice for at least another hour, so he could get some training runs in beforehand, to work the kinks out at last. Snape's Dark Arts class had put quite a dent in his practice time.
Not a soul was on the Quidditch field. The stands were completely free of people, the grass a soft spongy green. It was gray and there was a slight mist, an almost-rain, but otherwise the conditions were perfect, with only a low wind. The grounds were slightly veiled in soft gray.
He did a running kick-off from the field, an illegal maneuver in games, but it gave him exhilarating height as he soared. He executed several kick- turns, barrel-rolls, skimming the stands, then pushed himself high above Hogwarts until the pennants were mere flickering dots below. He turned, and, making a vertical arc that left his stomach in midair - he let himself drop.
Harry molded himself to his broom handle as tight as he could, and steered for the ground at maximum speed. It was easy to spin like a top in this kind of maneuver, which lost ones line of sight with the ground. He managed to hold it to only one or two spins, and the hotter air of the ground rushed by him at incredible speed as he pulled out of it, within inches of hitting the dirt. The blood rushed to his ears. He saw something black, out of the corner of his eye, but whizzed by it too fast to see. Harry was breathless with joy, and whooped, pumping the air with his fist! Oh, he'd missed this!
Then Harry caught sight of something white, arcing through the air. A practice golf ball. Harry took after it, and snatched it too easily. But another soared - high, too high to have simply been thrown. This one zigged and zagged, avoiding Harry's outstretched hand nimbly. He trapped it from below. Two others zipped, going in opposite directions. This took more planning - Harry's mind raced. An impossible catch, whoever threw them meant for him to miss. Both were falling quickly. He dove for the one furthest, with the lower arc. Then, in a ground-skimming sweep, he just barely caught the other, executing an end-to-end flip and skidding to a stop in mid-air. He spun around triumphantly to hold up his captures to whichever teammate had thrown them for him. But it was no Gryffindor who threw them, Harry realized with a shock.
It was Professor Snape. His black figure gazed thoughtfully at Harry from across the field.
Snape raised a black-gloved hand and the golf balls launched themselves from Harry's possession. They flew directly across the field to him, bobbing and dancing in the wind. He caught them. Then Snape gave a slight mocking salute, turned, and strode back to the school. The golf balls followed, floating idly behind his head.
What was that about?
He didn't have time to wonder, as his teammates poured onto the field.
"Was that Snape?"
"He's not spying for Slytherin, is he?"
"No," Harry said absently. Though he wasn't sure how he knew.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team laughed and stomped their way through the Hogwarts main halls, smelling of rain and the outdoors, voices loud from shouting to each other from airborne brooms. They were dripping wet, and tracking in more mud than was safe, given Filch's hopeful predilection for torture. But they had plenty of company, and there was already a fair puddle outside the Gryffindor common room. If any of the other houses wanted to learn where a common room was located, all they had to do was follow the mud on a rainy day. Harry laughed, and hoped they didn't bring disaster on Hermione's photo album.
But it looked like she had finished. There were no photos to be seen, and both she and Ron were gone. She must have worked Ron like a slave! Harry grinned to himself. But he was a trifle disappointed. He wanted to talk to them about Snape's appearance on the Quidditch field, and it seemed like ages since he'd seen them. He'd been too busy, what with the Dark Arts, and the trouble with Ron and all. With Quidditch practice he felt like he'd just come back to life somehow, in a way he hadn't felt since the Dark Arts classes had begun.
He waved his teammates on to the showers without him, and hunted around for signs of where his friends might have gone. Colin Creevy was perched precariously on a windowsill, magicking raindrops with a Magnetism Spell and moving them into a snowflake pattern. There were already various smiley faces, blinking at him, and complicated dragon squirmed and scowled on an upper pane. Colin was rather good at this stuff, Harry observed.
"Ron and Hermione - ? Out on another date," Colin answered without turning around. "Hermione wouldn't go 'till they finished those pictures."
"Another date? When was the first?" Harry was astonished.
"First? Try second and third. Where've you been?"
In Dark Arts classes, Harry growled to himself. Wow, he'd missed a lot. Harry had had no idea.
"Fourth date," Ron grinned at him from his bed the next morning. "I don't think we got back until eleven o'clock! Hermione was frantic! She kept thinking that we would get locked out!"
"You could have always stayed at Hagrid's." Harry suggested, somewhat lecherously. It was one of the places he and Ron had found when they were playing around with the Book of Eros. Quite cozy, when Hagrid was off in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was starting to miss Ron and that Book already. But his friendship with Ron had just recovered, and he wasn't going to chance anything messing it up again.
"Oh, I thought of that - ! " Ron wiped his face as if trying to remove his grin. He was not succeeding. "But she's, you know, not ready for anything like that yet." Then a look of concern crossed Ron's face.
"You're okay with this, aren't you?" Ron lowered his voice and glanced about cautiously. "We were uh, just - you know - fooling around, right?"
"Well - you're okay, right?"
"Yeah. Sure. Of course! Who wouldn't be?" he said and sighed. "Hermione.."
"Then of course I am," Harry lied.
The real test came a week later, late at night in the Gryffindor bedroom. Harry woke to soft, wet sounds. Kissing. And a familiar whisper. Two familiar whispers. Coming from Ron's bed. His bed curtains were drawn.
Apparently Harry had slept through most of it. Thank god.
"I can't find it!" one voice whispered, more loudly than they should have, in a room full of sleeping Gryffindors.
Ron's head poked out from behind the curtains. He felt around on the floor, and retrieved what looked to be a bra. He glanced up, saw Harry, grinned and put his finger to his lips. Harry inwardly groaned. Ron had those familiar bright glazed eyes, a look Harry knew quite well.
Are you Crazy?! Harry mouthed to Ron.
Ron nodded eagerly, and disappeared back under the curtains.
Moments later, Harry saw Ron and someone with fluffy hair, fuzzier than usual, back-lit against the window by the door.
"See?" Ron whispered, "I told you - these guys can sleep through an Oroborus Bomb."
"Okay, but honestly, if - !"
"Sh!"
"See you tomorrow.."
"Yeah." Ron stood staring after her a moment.
Harry was furious. How could Ron do this? Here? Of all places! How dare he even consider - ! He wanted to let Ron have it, right there and then, but knew he wouldn't be able to keep from waking everyone else up. So Harry turned his back on Ron, slamming his shoulder into the pillow.
"Weasley." It was Seamus' voice. "Never again, you got that? Not here. I won't say anything to the others this time."
That was his cue. Harry spoke up, "Look, Ron, this isn't going to do Hermione's reputation any good at all, if you pull things like this. Think!"
"Oh, my opinion's gone up," said Dean from the opposite side of the room, "Waaaaaaay up. In fact, it's raised its hand!"
The dark room filled with guffaws of laughter. There was a suppressed giggle from Neville Longbottom's bed. Everyone was awake. Hearing even Neville, Ron moaned and put his head in his hands.
"Don't tell her! Damn you, don't tell her!" he groaned.
"Hey - we're Gryffindors, right?" It was Seamus again. "And we stick together. But Weasley, if you do anything like this again - all bets are off."
There were noises of agreement throughout the room.
"If you don't mind - " Dean slipped off his bed. " - have to have a shower." There was more laughter.
"Leave some cold water for the rest of us!"
"Geeze, Ron.. I can sleep through an Oroborus Bomb alright - but that?!"
Surprisingly, that last comment was from Neville, starting another burst of laughter and a round of applause. Ron threw the covers over his head, muttering, "If one of you tells her, I swear, I will kill you.. "
The next morning, Harry decided he was going to have a private talk with Ron. Aside from discussing the night before, he had a lot to say to Ron. Even if he wasn't exactly sure what it was.
Frustratingly, Ron was already gone before he woke. Later, he kept hovering over Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, then again downstairs at breakfast. They disappeared together into the library afterwards. Harry couldn't get a moment alone with him. It was very annoying. Harry tried again at lunch, with no greater success. Harry almost thought Ron was sticking by Hermione, just to avoid him. Harry almost burst with frustration.
Hermione and Ron chattered next to Harry as if they were the only people in the world. As Harry picked at his dessert, he felt that familiar prickle again, and glanced up. Professor Snape was watching him again.
Harry shot him a look over his glasses that said: Go away!
Snape tilted his head to the side, in a subtle kind of shrug. If you say so, it said. He glanced aside.
But somehow, Harry didn't have the energy to yell at Ron anymore. Or, whatever. He left Hermione and Ron to their conversation, suddenly aware that Ron hadn't been avoiding him today. He had just been more wrapped up in her than he had ever been in Harry. Today, he simply hadn't noticed Harry. At all.
Suddenly Harry was very glad he had followed Professor Snape's advice.
Finis. Next: 'Riddle of the Dark.'
The Gryffindor common room was a complete and utter disaster, Harry decided. It looked like someone had hit a Fotomat with an Exploding Charm. Every table, chair, stool, and even much of the floor was taken up with Hermione's project, there were moving, waving, smiling photos just everywhere. Dozens more were stuck to the walls with various gluing spells, or hovering in midair.
Hermione had her wand handy and she was gloweringly ready to use it, should anyone decide to move or otherwise touch her pictures. Even Dean wasn't such a fool as to tamper - tempting targets as they were - not with that deadly wand aimed in his direction. Neville attempted to walk around, and found himself levitated over the project and set gently down by the door.
"I wasn't gonna touch it!" he complained.
"We're both safer this way," Hermione said curtly.
She was making a photo album for her parents for Christmas. She had taken a lot of their old Muggle-style photos, made new prints, and developed them wizard-fashion so that they were all moving. It was a nice gesture, Harry thought. But certainly a lot of work. For once he was grateful the Dursley's had never given him more than toothpicks and old socks. He wasn't obligated to get them anything extravagant in return.
Ron was sprawled out among the stacks, eyeing the pictures in his hands warily and looking somewhat confused. He gave Harry a helpless look, as Hermione scolded him.
"No, Ron - those need to be organized by year! The others by vacation. Now get it straight, or I'll just have to do all of it myself!"
Harry couldn't see why Ron didn't take her up on her generous offer. But somehow Hermione had suckered him into this. Ron struggled on gamely.
Harry took pity on Ron, set aside his Firebolt and helped for a bit, until he grew bored. There was one photo Harry particularly liked, of a grinning three-year-old Hermione, her hair poofed like an angry cat's. She was on a swing and came right at you. It was a great action shot. But after less than an hour, Harry had lost patience with the never-ending project, though Ron it seemed, was ready to stick it out until the bitter end. He hovered over Hermione anxiously.
"Have fun," Harry smiled to him, picking up his Firebolt and waving goodbye to the exasperated Ron. This was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday.
He'd been lucky. Several Dark Arts classes had been canceled all in a row. It had now been over a week since he'd had to endure one. At first Harry had studied furiously, terrified this halt might mean an excruciating test. But none had come, and Harry began slack off and enjoy his unexpected break. The normal school schedule seemed a breeze by comparison. Best yet, Snape had stopped staring and seemed, if anything, to be avoiding Harry.
Harry quickened his pace through the corridors. He didn't have Quidditch practice for at least another hour, so he could get some training runs in beforehand, to work the kinks out at last. Snape's Dark Arts class had put quite a dent in his practice time.
Not a soul was on the Quidditch field. The stands were completely free of people, the grass a soft spongy green. It was gray and there was a slight mist, an almost-rain, but otherwise the conditions were perfect, with only a low wind. The grounds were slightly veiled in soft gray.
He did a running kick-off from the field, an illegal maneuver in games, but it gave him exhilarating height as he soared. He executed several kick- turns, barrel-rolls, skimming the stands, then pushed himself high above Hogwarts until the pennants were mere flickering dots below. He turned, and, making a vertical arc that left his stomach in midair - he let himself drop.
Harry molded himself to his broom handle as tight as he could, and steered for the ground at maximum speed. It was easy to spin like a top in this kind of maneuver, which lost ones line of sight with the ground. He managed to hold it to only one or two spins, and the hotter air of the ground rushed by him at incredible speed as he pulled out of it, within inches of hitting the dirt. The blood rushed to his ears. He saw something black, out of the corner of his eye, but whizzed by it too fast to see. Harry was breathless with joy, and whooped, pumping the air with his fist! Oh, he'd missed this!
Then Harry caught sight of something white, arcing through the air. A practice golf ball. Harry took after it, and snatched it too easily. But another soared - high, too high to have simply been thrown. This one zigged and zagged, avoiding Harry's outstretched hand nimbly. He trapped it from below. Two others zipped, going in opposite directions. This took more planning - Harry's mind raced. An impossible catch, whoever threw them meant for him to miss. Both were falling quickly. He dove for the one furthest, with the lower arc. Then, in a ground-skimming sweep, he just barely caught the other, executing an end-to-end flip and skidding to a stop in mid-air. He spun around triumphantly to hold up his captures to whichever teammate had thrown them for him. But it was no Gryffindor who threw them, Harry realized with a shock.
It was Professor Snape. His black figure gazed thoughtfully at Harry from across the field.
Snape raised a black-gloved hand and the golf balls launched themselves from Harry's possession. They flew directly across the field to him, bobbing and dancing in the wind. He caught them. Then Snape gave a slight mocking salute, turned, and strode back to the school. The golf balls followed, floating idly behind his head.
What was that about?
He didn't have time to wonder, as his teammates poured onto the field.
"Was that Snape?"
"He's not spying for Slytherin, is he?"
"No," Harry said absently. Though he wasn't sure how he knew.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team laughed and stomped their way through the Hogwarts main halls, smelling of rain and the outdoors, voices loud from shouting to each other from airborne brooms. They were dripping wet, and tracking in more mud than was safe, given Filch's hopeful predilection for torture. But they had plenty of company, and there was already a fair puddle outside the Gryffindor common room. If any of the other houses wanted to learn where a common room was located, all they had to do was follow the mud on a rainy day. Harry laughed, and hoped they didn't bring disaster on Hermione's photo album.
But it looked like she had finished. There were no photos to be seen, and both she and Ron were gone. She must have worked Ron like a slave! Harry grinned to himself. But he was a trifle disappointed. He wanted to talk to them about Snape's appearance on the Quidditch field, and it seemed like ages since he'd seen them. He'd been too busy, what with the Dark Arts, and the trouble with Ron and all. With Quidditch practice he felt like he'd just come back to life somehow, in a way he hadn't felt since the Dark Arts classes had begun.
He waved his teammates on to the showers without him, and hunted around for signs of where his friends might have gone. Colin Creevy was perched precariously on a windowsill, magicking raindrops with a Magnetism Spell and moving them into a snowflake pattern. There were already various smiley faces, blinking at him, and complicated dragon squirmed and scowled on an upper pane. Colin was rather good at this stuff, Harry observed.
"Ron and Hermione - ? Out on another date," Colin answered without turning around. "Hermione wouldn't go 'till they finished those pictures."
"Another date? When was the first?" Harry was astonished.
"First? Try second and third. Where've you been?"
In Dark Arts classes, Harry growled to himself. Wow, he'd missed a lot. Harry had had no idea.
"Fourth date," Ron grinned at him from his bed the next morning. "I don't think we got back until eleven o'clock! Hermione was frantic! She kept thinking that we would get locked out!"
"You could have always stayed at Hagrid's." Harry suggested, somewhat lecherously. It was one of the places he and Ron had found when they were playing around with the Book of Eros. Quite cozy, when Hagrid was off in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was starting to miss Ron and that Book already. But his friendship with Ron had just recovered, and he wasn't going to chance anything messing it up again.
"Oh, I thought of that - ! " Ron wiped his face as if trying to remove his grin. He was not succeeding. "But she's, you know, not ready for anything like that yet." Then a look of concern crossed Ron's face.
"You're okay with this, aren't you?" Ron lowered his voice and glanced about cautiously. "We were uh, just - you know - fooling around, right?"
"Well - you're okay, right?"
"Yeah. Sure. Of course! Who wouldn't be?" he said and sighed. "Hermione.."
"Then of course I am," Harry lied.
The real test came a week later, late at night in the Gryffindor bedroom. Harry woke to soft, wet sounds. Kissing. And a familiar whisper. Two familiar whispers. Coming from Ron's bed. His bed curtains were drawn.
Apparently Harry had slept through most of it. Thank god.
"I can't find it!" one voice whispered, more loudly than they should have, in a room full of sleeping Gryffindors.
Ron's head poked out from behind the curtains. He felt around on the floor, and retrieved what looked to be a bra. He glanced up, saw Harry, grinned and put his finger to his lips. Harry inwardly groaned. Ron had those familiar bright glazed eyes, a look Harry knew quite well.
Are you Crazy?! Harry mouthed to Ron.
Ron nodded eagerly, and disappeared back under the curtains.
Moments later, Harry saw Ron and someone with fluffy hair, fuzzier than usual, back-lit against the window by the door.
"See?" Ron whispered, "I told you - these guys can sleep through an Oroborus Bomb."
"Okay, but honestly, if - !"
"Sh!"
"See you tomorrow.."
"Yeah." Ron stood staring after her a moment.
Harry was furious. How could Ron do this? Here? Of all places! How dare he even consider - ! He wanted to let Ron have it, right there and then, but knew he wouldn't be able to keep from waking everyone else up. So Harry turned his back on Ron, slamming his shoulder into the pillow.
"Weasley." It was Seamus' voice. "Never again, you got that? Not here. I won't say anything to the others this time."
That was his cue. Harry spoke up, "Look, Ron, this isn't going to do Hermione's reputation any good at all, if you pull things like this. Think!"
"Oh, my opinion's gone up," said Dean from the opposite side of the room, "Waaaaaaay up. In fact, it's raised its hand!"
The dark room filled with guffaws of laughter. There was a suppressed giggle from Neville Longbottom's bed. Everyone was awake. Hearing even Neville, Ron moaned and put his head in his hands.
"Don't tell her! Damn you, don't tell her!" he groaned.
"Hey - we're Gryffindors, right?" It was Seamus again. "And we stick together. But Weasley, if you do anything like this again - all bets are off."
There were noises of agreement throughout the room.
"If you don't mind - " Dean slipped off his bed. " - have to have a shower." There was more laughter.
"Leave some cold water for the rest of us!"
"Geeze, Ron.. I can sleep through an Oroborus Bomb alright - but that?!"
Surprisingly, that last comment was from Neville, starting another burst of laughter and a round of applause. Ron threw the covers over his head, muttering, "If one of you tells her, I swear, I will kill you.. "
The next morning, Harry decided he was going to have a private talk with Ron. Aside from discussing the night before, he had a lot to say to Ron. Even if he wasn't exactly sure what it was.
Frustratingly, Ron was already gone before he woke. Later, he kept hovering over Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, then again downstairs at breakfast. They disappeared together into the library afterwards. Harry couldn't get a moment alone with him. It was very annoying. Harry tried again at lunch, with no greater success. Harry almost thought Ron was sticking by Hermione, just to avoid him. Harry almost burst with frustration.
Hermione and Ron chattered next to Harry as if they were the only people in the world. As Harry picked at his dessert, he felt that familiar prickle again, and glanced up. Professor Snape was watching him again.
Harry shot him a look over his glasses that said: Go away!
Snape tilted his head to the side, in a subtle kind of shrug. If you say so, it said. He glanced aside.
But somehow, Harry didn't have the energy to yell at Ron anymore. Or, whatever. He left Hermione and Ron to their conversation, suddenly aware that Ron hadn't been avoiding him today. He had just been more wrapped up in her than he had ever been in Harry. Today, he simply hadn't noticed Harry. At all.
Suddenly Harry was very glad he had followed Professor Snape's advice.
Finis. Next: 'Riddle of the Dark.'