Disclaimer: Not one tiny shred of the basic plot/characters/etc. is mine. OK? Are you happy now?

(Note: Bits in italics are dreams, *asterisks are thoughts* and #hashes are song lyrics, singing, etc.#)

Sorry I was so long updating! I wrote this while on holiday in Spain – where my bag was stolen. That git who stole it is deranged… anyways, enjoy! And review, of course.

Chapter 12: Nobody Said It Was Easy

Harry awoke suddenly. It was a good job he did, because his dream was Neville and McGonagall singing I Got You Babe (Courtesy of Sonny and Cher), both in itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikinis. NOT good.

                  He glanced at his bedside clock – 4:53 am – and had a vague feeling of dejá-vu. Wasn't it only about two and a half weeks ago he had awoken in the middle of the night, worrying about his transfiguration homework? It seemed like a century ago. As Neville had quoted yesterday (wisely, but out of tune), nobody said it was easy. And now… now Neville had become his shadow, seeking Harry's praise and/or attention wherever they went, and most of the school (including some teachers – except Snape) were studiously ignoring him or giving him Evil Stares whenever possible. The Slytherins, however, managed to turn Harry's breathing into a sonnet, poem, story, or song about McGonagall. The most recent was Pansy Parkinson's, based on the movements of Harry's fingers on the Potions desk, suggesting that he was yearning for McGonagall:-

So fair art thou with rising grace

All I want is to touch your face

I burn for you, I yearn for you

Oh please, say you love me too?

You'd think that, considering this is Pansy Parkinson we're talking about, this is very touching and clever. However, because this is Pansy Parkinson we're talking about, she had copied it from a textbook. Actually, I made it up, but whatever… Nonetheless, she received a warm round of applause.

                  Harry sank back into his pillows in despair, feeling defeated. It was like he was just trying to climb a high wall, and he couldn't get over. But then his survival instinct took over (easy, tiger) and he proceeded to make a list of ways to bring her back. Not because he fancied her, mind. He just wanted to leave school with a clear conscience…

Kiss her, like in the fairytales. (Yeah, like that's going to work…)

Make own spell. (But how the hell do I do that?)

Get Hermione to make a spell for me. (Yeah, like she'll help…)

Make a potion to wake her. (How will she swallow it?)

He looked at the list and promptly screwed it up. As he thought for the thousandth time, it was hopeless.

                  Nobody said it was easy.

Harry began to haunt the library. The vast volumes of library vaults did little to satisfy him – over 5000 books and no bloody cure for a destroyed soul. *Not that they ever had to use it before…* he thought despondently.

                  Neville sat across the table from him, doing nothing except gazing at him and occasionally making some sort of notes. Inquisitive, Harry got up to get another book and tip-toed up behind him and read over his shoulder:-

OBSERVATIONS

Harry chews his bottom lip when concentrating

Harry traces his scar when annoyed

Harry's buttocks clench alternatively when reading

Harry definitely doesn't dye his hair – no roots are showing…

Harry walks like a thin, more graceful gorilla

Harry –

"What are you doing, Harry?" Neville enquired, staring up at Harry. Stuck for a plausible lie, Harry went with a very fake, "Oh no I've fallen over," and a gentle thud to the floor. Upon getting up he saw Neville had added to the list:

Harry is not a good liar under pressure

*What on earth is Neville up to?* Harry thought briefly, before Neville got up and speedily walked out of the library.

The next day, Harry's hip was sore from the fall. Gingerly rubbing it, he made his way to Charms, where he sat next to Neville.

                  Except he wasn't there.

                  15 minutes, and both the teacher and Neville were late.

                  30 minutes, and the teacher had turned up (drunk as a post, but nevertheless ready for action) but Neville was still late.

                  3 minutes before the bell, Neville sauntered in. Harry did a double take. It was like looking into a mirror at a fatter Harry. Neville had it all – the hair, glasses, scar, eyes, robes, complexion, lips, dimples… 'Harry' grinned at Harry and sat down, ignoring Professor Flitwick's stern lecture.

                  "Hullo," he said. Harry gaped, gasped and ran out of the classroom…

                  …with Neville in hot pursuit.

~#~#~#~

Thanks for reading – chapter 13 to follow shortly! I think it's going to end around chapter 17…