A/N- spoilers for Quidditch Through The Ages in this chapter…eh. Don't flame me on that account. :0)
Destiny
Pyramid
A few hours later Harry found himself sprawled over a scarlet armchair in the Gryffindor common with nothing to do. Ron lay in a similar pose in the opposite chair, thumbing through Quidditch Through The Ages for about the fiftieth time since the end of last term. Harry sighed and went over his mental list of things that he could do to liven up the hours until dinner. An unlikely rain had picked up since breakfast, or they would have been outside playing Quidditch. The weather limited their options to wizard chess, which they had already played twice already, sneaking around in the Invisibility Cloak, which would have been stupid since it was broad daylight and they had nothing to see, and otherwise wandering the hallways while completely visible still in search of something to do.
"What do you want to do?" asked Harry.
"Not the library," mumbled Ron into the pages of the illustrated book. Harry glimpsed a Chudley Cannon speeding by as he pictured Hermione, sitting in the library, reading as always. He feared that he would never understand the connection Hermione had with the library, with the seemingly endless rows of books to choose from. Sometimes it took her an hour just to find the book she wanted to read, and then she would spend twice as long reading it, sitting in one of the uncomfortably unpadded chairs that Madame Irma Pince kept around. The only thing about the library that was intriguing to Harry was the Restricted Section, and that was, of course, forbidden. Sometimes when the boredom hit he would go down to the library to look up the list of forbidden books and then go see if they were available in the bookshop in Hogsmeade, but he just wasn't in a rebellious mood in the moment. He was sure it would hit later on, though, as it always did.
"Wanna play Gobstones?" asked Ron.
"Not really," answered Harry, his eyes burning at the mere thought of the game. He had lost extremely badly to Ron a number of times and did not wish to repeat the experience- any of the experiences. He watched the golden letters that formed the name of the author of Quidditch… dance in the firelight. It was interesting how a boring name like Kennilworthy Whisp could be made fascinating by an unusual lighting. For a minute Harry watched the Cannons fly around, blurs of orange. He watched them score and punch their fists in the air, shouting their motto (at the time,) 'We shall conquer!' Harry found it odd and a bit funny that he knew the look on the faces of the losers too well. He had seen that face on those of his opponents many times. Harry supposed he was fortunate to have such talent bestowed on him but such things were easy to take for granted.
Ron slapped his book closed and tossed it halfheartedly onto the floor, where it did a lazy flip and landed open on its back, the pages fanning open and providing a dizzying spectacle of moving pictures. Harry watched the kaleidoscope for a few moments before he reached down and pushed the book closed. "We could go visit Hagrid," Harry said, "I'm willing to brave the weather just to shove this boredom."
Ron shrugged and sat up from his uncomfortable position across the hard arms of the squashy chair. He ran a pale hand through his hair, which fell haphazardly back into place. It fanned messily across his forehead like the pages of the book, and it too flickered in the fire. The corner of Harry's lip twitched as he stretched and got to his feet. The thick burgundy carpet sank a centimeter or two under the soles of his feet as he strode across the room, enjoying the feeling of being on top of the pyramid. All his life he had had the seventh years to look up to, and now he was a seventh year. He had become his own role model. Harry let a slightly smug smile spread across his face as he surveyed the high stone walls and the masonry where they met the ceiling. The fringe on the Gryffindor tapestry fluttered in a draft as the portrait hole opened and Ginny Weasley stepped into the hole. Her eyes darted from her brother to Harry, and then around the perimeter of the room searching for any others. "Hello Ron, Harry," she said, shifting the books she had tucked under her arm.
"Where were you?" inquired Ron in a non-interested voice.
"In the library with Hermione," Ginny answered. Harry noted the inches that she had grown that he had never noticed. It was strange that this awkwardness still existed between them even though he had lived practically with her the entire summer. The Burrow was not just his second home anymore, it was his home, and the only place he was willing to call home save Hogwarts. However, though Harry noted her physical changes he failed to notice the tightness of her smile whenever she saw fit to bestow one upon him. Ginny had withdrawn herself from Harry; she was wise enough to have learned from her first mistakes. Though somewhere in her heart may have lurked a hidden attraction to the handsome Seeker, she would certainly be the last to know.
"Is she doing schoolwork?" asked Harry with a grin upon his face. Ginny nodded sharply.
"She's halfway through the second PNEWT volume," she answered as she set her own books down on one of the mahogany desks that were lined up against the wall. The portrait of a goblin that adorned the cover of the top book moved slightly as she slid it to the corner of the desk and set her bag next to it. As she drew her inkwell and some sheaves of parchment out of her bag, Ron got to his feet and bustled nosily over to where his sister was standing.
"Not you too!" groaned Ron. "Hermione's gotten to you."
"I wanted to know more about this particular rebellion," said Ginny, tapping the end of her pen against the portrait on the cover. "I think it's fascinating," she said defensively as Ron groaned again.
"Like we need another history buff in the family," he said, sounding disappointed.
"We haven't got a history buff, Ronald," Ginny answered. "Charlie and Bill may be intelligent but I bet they can't tell you a thing about the goblin rebellion of 1562," she continued as she opened the book to dull, grey colored pages with spidery print written across it in neat rows. Ron, however, had already pushed open the portrait hole as his sister finished what she was saying.
"C'mon, Harry," said Ron, jerking his head towards the door, "I've had enough goblins for one afternoon."
"Goodbye, dear brother," Ginny called after them as the portrait hole swung closed with a thwap and left Ginny entirely alone in the common. She waited a moment before she let her forehead drop onto the grey pages and the pen slip from her hand. It was only a few days into the school year and already she felt sick and tired of everything that was going on around her. The confused feelings about Harry paired with the ever growing threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was two much for her already mature heart to bear. A nasty voice in the back of her head whispered, Harry isn't afraid to say his name. Some urge to beat Harry in some invisible competition opened her mouth and forced the fiery syllables out. "Voldemort," she whispered to the spine of her book. When flames did not erupt around her she lifted her head and glanced around the common. The same stone walls and scarlet tapestries greeted her with open arms. A small, satisfied smile crossed her face as she picked up her pen and began to scratch a few notes of background information down on the parchment. "I can be stronger," she told herself, "I don't have to let Harry hurt me." She worked in silence for a long time, information about bloody rebellions pushing all thoughts of Harry from her young mind.
Blaise Zabini found herself in a similar situation as she sat in the common room battling an easy Pansy at chess. The Slytherin common felt like it was missing something, missing the comatose Draco. She had checked in on him secretly a few moments ago and he was still sleeping off the alcohol. Crabbe and Goyle had not been so fortunate and had elected to spend the afternoon down in Madame Pomfrey's- an idiotic choice, overall. They had lumbered out of the common attempting to clutch their heads and their stomachs at the same time, groaning and moaning about the previous night's exploits.
Once again Pansy found herself checkmated within four moves and Blaise found herself being showered with comments that ran along the lines of, "How did you do that?!" Blaise sighed and decided not to tell Pansy the truth. Saying, "You suck at chess, Pansy!" didn't seem to be the smartest idea as Pansy was the only person that she had to hang out with at the moment. Blaise glanced around the room at the other Slytherins that had found themselves on a rainy afternoon with nothing to do. A fifth year was deep in schoolwork at one of the corner desks, a heated Gobstone battle had erupted between two second years and a quiet, brooding sixth year sat engrossed in a book in one of the forest armchairs.
Her eyes moved from the sixth year back to Pansy's adoring face and then to rest finally on the checkered board that lay on the table in front of her. She ran a finger over the smooth painted glass surface of the board and tapped the base of one of the black Knights with her fingernail. The horse pawed in protest for a moment before settling back into its original pose and it's shiny façade. Blaise crossed her legs under the table and was reminded that she would have to shave soon. She picked up her wand from the table and bid goodbye to Pansy as she went out into the girls' bathroom and into one of the shower stalls. The tub filled with water as Blaise lazily dipped the end of her wand into the water to make bubbles. If there's nothing else to do, why not pamper yourself? Blaise thought as she dipped a toe into the water to test its temperature. After she found it to her liking she slipped out of her skirt and watched the pleats spread out in a grey flower on the floor. Her blouse came off next, after she undid the few buttons that had been done before. She dropped the shirt onto the skirt and then removed her underwear before slipping into the warm water. As she slid her head down under the water and then back up again, she heard the faint sound of the outside door opening and someone going into the stall next to hers. Although the person turned on the bath water, Blaise could still hear sniffling noises coming from behind the full-length door. She smirked as she realized that the person was getting high off Muggle drugs. Blaise had tried various means of snorting and smoking but she hadn't really caught on to it the way others did. The offhand bag of cocaine, though, did sometimes find its way into her trunk under her dress robes.
Blaise seized her wand from the lip of the tub and glanced up at the light shining in from the little spaces where the full-length stall walls met the ceiling. She was thankful that these bathrooms were not built as Muggle ones were- the doors reached all the way down to the floor to ensure privacy. The only openings were the ones at the ceiling. Blaise pointed her wand at her hand and watched the gelatinous shampoo spill out into her hand. She washed her hair and conditioned it, and then she rinsed all the soap off her body and began to shave. The druggie in the next stall was still busy as she gathered her towels and her things and went back to the Slytherin common room. An unpleasant blast of cold tower air met her damp skin as she entered the room. Pansy had disappeared but had left the chessboard behind, and Blaise began to gather up the lifeless pieces in her hands as Draco came down the stairs. "Morning, sunshine," said Blaise as she tucked the chessboard under her arm and threw her towel over her shoulder. Draco greeted her with a hazy smile, the hung-over version of his normal smirk, and took the chessboard from her. He followed her up the stairs of the girl's dormitory, having long figured out the spell to prevent the stairs from turning into a slide. Pansy had ended up asleep on her bed, her nose pressed into the spine of a book, but otherwise the room was empty. Blaise deposited her towel in their communal hamper and arranged the chess pieces in their rightful containers. Draco leaned down and rested his head tiredly on her shoulder as she placed the king in its place.
"Tired?" Blaise said. Draco grunted.
"Never let me drink that much again," he mumbled into her hair.
Blaise grinned. "Alright," she said, reaching over and running a hand through his hair. "You have to get out of here before Pansy wakes up, or she'll have a fit and accuse us of doing something."
"Maybe we were doing something," said Draco.
"You're too hung over to do anything," Blaise reminded him.
"I'm never that hung over," Draco said. Blaise considered him for a moment but then decided that although he might be in the mood to do something, she was still to wet to feel that attractive.
"Maybe later," she said, helping Draco off the ground and following him out of the dormitory. He tapped the stair rail a couple stairs down and expertly slid down the remained of the steps while Blaise tumbled down after him. Draco caught her after he landed, but Blaise was laughing to hard to notice his hand brushing the naked skin of her thigh.
"Bastard," she said.
Draco grinned. "You know it."