That Damn Essay.
It was raining again, and how he hated the rain! It always gave everything a musty, wet glaze, as indeed even his eyes seemed, despite their spring colouring. 'damn, how am i supposed to get that essay finished by thsi afternoon? I can't concentrate in this weather!' Harry's mind mused weakly over the previous weeks: it consisted of a blur of rushing around to finish overdue homework or other such assignments before the schools final term came to a close. That was how it always seemed, probably in every school across Britain. The past few years and months especially had been hard for Harry, not just because of NEWT pressure, but puberty had also hit him hard, mainly in the face. There was no doubting it that Harry was a mildy attractive boy, however his genuine looks were at the moment as clouded as the sky outside, but instead of with rain, with a stormy attitude and a drizzle or pimples on his forehead. 'Well at least i'm not the only one struggling with all this.' That was when his mind cut across other petty thoughts to land quite firmly on his best friend. Ron was also in the same situation as Harry: stressed, spotty, and staring at a piece of parchment. It was filled only with half-started sentances; writing a serious essay on the breeding habits of house-elves was more challenging than either of the two youths had thought.
"Man, no wonder we left this one so long, we could always ask Dobby i suppose." Ron always spoke in a light voice, but lately his words were still filled with squeaks and groans. The curse of youth was what he had called it on so many occasions this past year. Harry shifted his gaze slightly from the parchment to the pelting rain outside the glass-blown windows, his stare a dejected one.
"Theres no way we'd get a serious answer from him."
"Well, what if you command him to then? or ask Kreacher - he'd have no qualms in answering." It seemed like a good idea, or one that was an improvement to staring at paper.
"It's better than just sitting here i guess...lunch is next anyway, we'll go down to the kitchens after this." Even without looking at him Harry could 'see' Ron staring at him, he'd noticed him doing this frequently, but dismissed it when he heard a loud rumble originating from Rons stomach.
"It's not like we'll miss lunch or anything," the melancholy boy added, "I mean, we're going down to the kitchens, so there'll be heaps of food."
"I bloody well hope so Harry. Im starved." The rest of transfiguration class 'B' rained down on them like the weather outside: repressive and slow. Still, the bell drew ever closer and finally sounded. The boys got to their feet, the noise from the rain splattering on the roof had left their minds clogged. Harry scrunched up the highly scrutinized piece of parchment and threw it away, Ron having already left the classroom. Harry made to follow but was instantly stopped, by Professor McGonagell.
"Potter, clean up your workspace please, this room was left tidy when you entered, no doubt from Ms. Granger so please leave it that way." Harry looked back over to where Ron and him had sat, opening his mouth to protest, however, lying on the ground was a piece of parchemt ripped off form a larger piece. Recovering the offensive piece of untidyness he stashed it in his pocket, wanting to catch up to Ron and not being bothered to cross the room again. Harry listened to his feet more than his head on his way to the kitchens. It was the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he hardly had to think to arrive outside the fruit bowl painting. He hadn't managed to spot Ron on the way down, but he wasn't surprised - when Ron was hungry, it was obvious where he would be.
Harry let himself into the Hogwarts kitchen, and immediatly saw Ron, halfway through two doughnuts, an American hotdog complete with layers of tomatoe sauce, and an extra-large glass of iced coffee. Grinning slyly, Harry helped himself to the remainder of one of Rons doughnuts, ignoring the look of mock anger from the red head.
"Wheres thdonbby?" Harry asked through the last of his stolen doughnut, but Ron only shrugged, prefering the taste of hot dog to conversation. Like everything else at Hogwarts, the kitchens were old, but clean and the kitchen itself managed to retain a warmth to its stones even with the cold, like the rest of the school did on a hot day. Deep inside the castle the weather outside seemed forgotten, and the sounds replacing it was of the various amounts of house-elves scurrying around the place, some already preparing for dinner, some sending up the food for lunch to the four house tables above, and some who just seemed to be rushing about for the fun of it, adding high-pitched sounds to the oevrall scene. However, even in this mess Harry was able to spot the much-liked, eccentric house-elf and mouthed: 'Are. You. Busy. Right. Now?' however before he was able to finish Dobby disappeared and reappeared next to Harrys elbow with the familier 'Pop'ing sound that went with elf magic.
"Harry Potter! You haven't been to see Dobby in ages." He declared and threw himself about Harry's waist. It took the next five minutes for Harry to completely and successfully disentangle Dobby from around him, asking Ron several rimes for help but only getting a small smile back covered in tomatoe sauce, and then explaining to Dobby why he'd neglected to see his big eared friend.
"Dobby, we...uh...need your help with something..." Both boys knew Dobby would be willing to help them with anything, but this seemed a little personnal, even for the colourful elf. Just as they'd expected, the elf seemed to wet himself for the chance to help Harry.
"well, we uh...we're doing this essay, and we need some information for it...because, basically, you see, we're..uh..stuck." Harry danced around the question, wanting Ron to ask instead. Ron, though, had convientiantly hidden himself behind his huge iced coffee cup.
"well...uh...Dobby...How do you...er...breed with other house elfs? and...uh...what are your particular...uh...habits?" Harry polietly looked away, however after waiting a short time for Dobby's reply, Harry looked down to see him staring at Harry's shoelaces.
"Dobby does not understand Mr. Potter." Harry couldn't believe it, the felt himself begin to blush, and asked again:
"uh...you know...how, when and how often do you guys er...how often do you elfs have sex?" At Harry's last word, the whole kitchen froze, and the warmth that emnated from the stones seemed to shut off, not that it was noticed by Harry, whos face was flushed with a hot blush. Dobby however, was decidedly worse, every part of visible skin on the elf had turned from its normal grey, to a brilliant shade of red. He pulled the teacosy on his head down over his large ears and eyes, and just managed to tell Harry that he was sorry and had to leave before (for the second time) Harry felt thousands of little hands push him and Ron to the door, and out of Hogwarts flushed kitchen. Harrys blush had somewhat diminished, til he looked over at Ron who was oggling and giggling at him.
"what! i didn't see you helping me back there." As soon as Harry had spat those words out, he regretted them, and was slightly puzzled at Ron, too, who looked geniunely hurt.
"Sorry, mate, just got a lil carried away . . ." Ron looked a bit happier after Harry said this, and started agreeing with Harry rather furiously that he should of helped. They decided to make their way back to Griffindors common room, they had a study break next anyway. On the way there they discussed Dobby's embarresment and everything seemed back to normal, however, they still had no answers and no information for their essay. In the common room, they pulled their chairs up close to the fire, since the weather hadn't improved. They were almost the only ones there, there were just a few laggers from lunch who'd forgotten books for classes and Neville, the only other 5th form Griffindor who had study the same time as Harry and Ron. It didn't include Hermione either, who had her break after the boys. Because they had so many classes together, ment that it was generally only them two. It was a shame that they were drifting apart slightly, Harry knew that even though Hermione and Ron constantly bickered, that there may of been something deeper that friendship with them. Harry would of been glad for them, even though it made him feel . . . something strange, he couldn't place it. Harry came out of his day-dream as Ron asked:
"SO...what should we do 'bout that damn essay, eh?" Harry sighed, they were back to the preverbial square one.
"Well, how about the library? Even if we don't find anything in the books Hermione might be able to help." Harry was feeling a little put-out, why couldn't Ron take the inituiative sometimes? Still, Ron agreed with him so once again Harry found himself listening only to his feet and the rain outside the cold castle, Rons feet tracking out a rhyming beat with the torrent of rain against the worn windows. It only took them a few minutes more to reach the doors of the library, and enter quietly. Over Harrys years at Hogwarts, he didn't think the library had ever changed, and he quite liked it the way it was: books wall to wall, the muffled way all the voices seemed; he enjoyed its overall feel, even if its 'overseer' Madam Pince didn't seem to like his company, or anyones for that matter. The two boys were now seated together on one of the tables near a wall, half covered with some fungi-covered old romance novels. From where Harry was sitting, he could make out a few of the greenish titles: "Shards of a Broken Soul", "Why carn't you love me?", "black-white LURVE" Harry knew he couldn't get side-tracked at the moment - the essay was more important at the moment and he could always get the trashy fics out to read over the holidays.
Hermione was no where to be seen in the library, although it was quite possible that she might be hidden under a large stack of novels. Harry breathed a sigh and let Ron search for books that could help them. It was then that he noticed a piece of yellowed parchemtn sticking out of the middle of "Shards of a Broken Soul". It seemed to be someones lost bookmark. He pulled the book towards him and opened it up to the marked page. Ah, he loved these trashy romance novels, the written language was superb and danced for his eyes, yet he was always slightly miffed when some of the words didnt quite 'qualify'. He drew his eyes away from the text to the bookmark, the paper looked familier, other than that