Part Three

Harry sat dejectedly on an over-stuffed couch in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny Weasley was snoring lightly against his shoulder, how she could sleep with all this noise, he had no idea.

Hermione was somewhere; he'd lost track of her whereabouts and then remembered she was quite capable of fending for herself. The last bloke that had been fool enough to play her ended up having to shower in the Quidditch change rooms, in the wee hours of the morning. Every time the poor boy stripped his butt would start crooning like Sinatra on acid. Harry had to admit it had been hilarious and the kid a butt of many a practical joke for months after…

Harry cringed inwardly at the awful pun.

The party was in full swing; to be honest it had been swinging for well over an hour and no sign of their champion. What the hell was Ron up too?

Professor McGonagall had come and left. Still no Ron. Harry had expected to see his best friend tagging along behind his teacher, but he hadn't appeared. McGonagall had informed him that Ron needed some space, that he would arrive shortly and not to worry, but enjoy the victory without him for awhile.

Harry couldn't find the energy to celebrate another win against Slytherin; not without Ron's wild enthusiasm to egg him on. It just didn't seem worth it unless his redheaded friend was here to share in humiliating those death-eater wannabe's.

Several times he had got up to look for Ron himself, but had been thwarted at the last second every time. The first time it had been Seamus pouncing on him moments before he reached the portrait hole. He had been dragged over to join in some drunken singing, headed by the surprisingly talented voice of one Neville Longbottom.

They had thrust him into the centre of their circle and asked Harry to devise lines for their impromptu Gryffindor cheer. He had not been nearly plastered enough to entertain that idea. After that embarrassment, he sneaked away while they were all distracted by Seamus, who had suddenly felt the need to strip bare and wrestle a surprised Neville to the floor.

Unfortunately, just as Harry thought he'd managed to escape, Ginny had latched onto his arm and like a tenacious limpet she refused to budge. Hence the reason why he was squashed up against the arm of the couch, the dead weight of a comatose Weasley making his shoulder ache with ruthless persistence. For a slight girl, she was bloody heavy. He wouldn't have minded had it been another Weasley entirely, but he refused to even go there.

Harry had just about made up his mind to ditch the lousy appointment as Ginny's comfy cushion, so that he could go look for Ron in earnest. God help anyone who got in his way this time around.

He tried shrugging his shoulders, nudging her head in a series of none too gentle jabs, but the girl went right on sleeping through all of it. Harry realized he would have to be brutal if he wanted out of this increasingly painful situation. He took a handful of her auburn locks and was about to tug, when fingers brushed in front of his face on the way to slapping the girl sharply across her cheek.

Harry missed the anger that consumed Ginny's features as she was jolted awake by the sting of her brother's hand. Harry had turned his startled expression upwards and found himself openly gaping at his best friend. Ronald Weasley was leaning casually over the back of the couch in a lazy sprawl. Harry could imagine those long legs casually stretched out behind Ron's body, the wet material of his pants hugging the contours of his thigh, gorgeously tempting him from the richly carpeted floor.

It was a good thing then, that those limbs were concealed from his vision by that most unwelcome piece of furniture...damn.

Ron was beaming down at him, he was soaked to the bone, his Quidditch uniform clung to his body far too provocatively for Harry's liking and he was also way too close for comfort. Ron shook his curls like a bad dog who had been playing where he shouldn't. Droplets of cold water rained down on Harry's face making him shiver with a rising hunger. Oh to taste those beads with his tongue.

Trying not to be too obvious, Harry leaned forward away from the tempting apparition hovering behind his left shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to block the warmth of that breath prickling across the back of his neck.

Ron clapped him across the back and Harry all but flew off the couch. He instantly regretted his behaviour as he heard Ron laughing heartily behind his paralyzed form.

"Harry… you sure are jumpy. Do you think I'm going to tackle you to the floor and use you as my personal body pillow like my sister?"

Harry gulped, not sure how to respond to that. Berating himself on his continued silence, not to mention that he'd failed to turn around and face his best friend as yet.

He heard a hard slap, then an "Ouch, what was that for?"

"What was that for?" Ginny shrieked. "You slapped me first."

Harry slowly turned around to discover the two siblings facing off across the couch, an innocent mass of wood, stuffing and burgundy material between them. Before he even thought about what the heck he was doing, Harry had leaped up on the couch to intervene.

Ginny of course, had chosen that moment to grab for her brother, hitting Harry across the bridge of his nose instead, sending his glasses flying.

"Harry!" she yelped. Reaching out to him as he sunk into the cushions, his right hand curled protectively over his wounded nose.

Well, that was the last time he got in the middle of fight where two Weasley's were concerned. Ginny had a mean right hook; it obviously wasn't a good idea to get on her bad side.

Harry could feel, well actually... the truth is he couldn't feel a darn thing. His nose was numb. He was though conscious of the blood dribbling through his fingers and over his lips. He had a sudden urge to lick them clean; it was only the presence of one Ron Weasley looming over him… that stopped him in mid-action.

His tongue frozen between his lips as Ron continued to stare worriedly at him. Harry wanted to explain that he was alright but his throat was dry. He coughed nervously, digging into the pockets of his robe for a hankie. It seemed Aunt Petunia drilling into him the importance of cleanliness had obviously sunken in. Extracting the tatty square of cotton from his pants he proceeded to dab at his nose, ever wary of those blue eyes watching him closely.

Just when he thought he could not endure any further scrutinizing on Ron's behalf, Ginny spoke up.

"Ron for goodness sake, give him some room to breathe" she snapped.

He growled back at her from his crouched position by Harry's side. "You did this to him" he shouted back. Harry was just happy that Ron now had his attention wholly trained on his sister instead of him. He felt foolish reacting this way with his best friend, but he had no control on his emotions.

The sensation was returning to his nose, a slow torturous pounding that tweaked up the volume of the migraine trying its damnedest to split open his skull. Ron and Ginny had started to argue in earnest now; he tuned out their screaming match in favour of concentrating on his own pain.

Harry fumbled once more in his robes for his wand when he remembered that he'd placed it on his bed straight after the Quidditch match. Realizing that neither of them would notice his absence, he got up and headed for the stairs.

He'd taken a couple of steps when a hand touched him lightly on the shoulder. Harry turned around expecting Ron, but found himself facing Marcus Kelgarr instead.

Oh shit…not now. Please.

The last thing he needed was another fist in his face. Unconsciously he tightened his hand over his nose in some small bid to protect himself.

"Harry, you alright there?"

Harry noted the slight slurring of Marcus's words. Let him be too pissed to remember that he'd sent him off on some foolish errand after Dumbledore.

Marcus had zeroed in on the blood covering his fingers and licked his lips, a mesmerized grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Harry watched in sickening horror as Marcus leaned towards him. "You been in a fight, can I help? I Know a spell that could fix that right up…"his voice a harsh whisper before trailing off completely, he gazed, practically salivating at the bright red drops of blood splashing onto the thick carpet.

Harry couldn't have been more disgusted, backing away from Marcus slowly.

"No," he answered a little too forcefully. "I'm good, really. Thanks, though."

Harry gave him a quick grin then left hastily.

"Are you sure, I'd really like to help?"

Harry ignored him, speeding up his retreat. On his way up to the boy's dorm rooms, he bumped into Hermione. She was comforting a distraught Ginny who was huddled on the top stair crying bitterly.

How did she get past him? He'd only left her a moment ago arguing with Ron. Harry shook his head; he was surely in the twilight zone. He almost laughed, but even the thought made his nose throb miserably.

It was Ginny that noticed him approaching first. "Harry!" she screeched, tears running down her face, she ran down the stairs to meet him. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry I hit you. I didn't mean to. But you got between us…"

"I should know better," he interrupted with a half-hearted attempt at laughing which ended in more spluttering. He moved back as she tried to hug him, he was not in the mood to be comforted.

Hermione came forward, eyebrow raised. "Can't you spend one night without getting yourself injured?" she sighed

Harry shrugged helplessly "Apparently not."

Hermione grinned at him as Harry smiled sheepishly back. In truth she was only happy to help out her friend. Ginny scowled at Hermione's back as she was unceremoniously excluded from the private moment.

She huffed, stomping up the stairs and turning right into the girl's dorm before they could even open their mouths to stop her. They both stared at the empty stairwell for what felt like minutes before…"What's up with her?" Harry gurgled painfully; the blood flow had increased. Maybe it was the altitude.

"Oh nothing," she sighed dramatically turning back to Harry. She frowned. "Here" she murmured. "Sit down." she indicated the stair below her.

Harry did as was asked of him. Hermione drew her wand out of the folds of her skirt and gave it a quick flick in Harry's direction.

That's all it took, Harry lifted a hand and felt his nose, everything was back where it belonged. No blood and most importantly no pain.

"Thank you" he beamed in awe at her. "Don't mention it" she intoned and without a backward glance followed Ginny up the stairs and into the dorm room.

It was Harry's turn to frown as he silently watched her move up the stairs and out of sight.