Amber and fuchsia swirled, and dotted lavender clouds hung overhead. The sunset was brilliantly golden on the Hogwarts lake horizon. The thestrals had pulled the carriages along, and, without the nearly annual welcome rain, arrived a few minutes early. The older students stepped out of their coaches, sorting their things on the grass, and stretching their legs.
A few meters away, Harry Potter stood in the last moments of sunshine, reveling in the moment of…well a good moment when there was no dark threat to loom at him. The threat of war and Voldemort were far away at least for a time. At least for now. He unbuttoned his school robe a bit as the wind picked up. It billowed through his hair and cape and he was content. He had returned. He was home.
"Don't look so stoic," a playful voice sounded quietly behind him.
"Hermione." He breathed a deep breath of cool evening air and turned to her, green eyes shimmering a little in the twilight. His absence of fear and darkness disappeared as he admired her noble beauty. Every inch of her seemed to glow. She truly was no longer the nappy-haired headstrong know-it-all. She was beautiful. She had transformed, as he knew they all must have to some extent. But her kind chestnut eyes with their flecks of gold, her caramel hair, and her wide gleaming grin were enough for even him, her almost brother, to desire a little. He found that he couldn't ignore the lump in his throat, knowing that this beauty could dissolve through his fingers. Knowing that, like Sirius's death two years before, it would have been something he could have stopped… His vision clouded and he turned his face to the lawn. "I can't believe this is our last year together…"
"Oh Harry." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't talk like it's the end. Even though… I know, the war. But, Harry, you know that after the hell we've been through, we'll always have a friendship that could outlast a thousand wars. And with Ron, that triples things." She laughed and playfully pushed him. He still avoided her gaze.
"Mione, it's too beautiful now." He lifted his eyes to the sky in an effort to keep the tears pooling in his eyes from falling. "Everything seems perfect. Dumbledore is in there right now, directing students and professors to their seats, setting music charms, and enjoying his pumpkin juice..." His voice rose with that determination she had seen displayed so many times before. The courage that awarded him Godric's sword was there, radiating around him. He was beautiful, how much he had changed. His hair brushing gently at his temple. His scar, he no longer tried to hide it, was even more visible in the dusk. She knew there was no changing the subject when he was on a roll like this.
"Little first years are playing exploding snap, losing house points, and looking forward to the next Quidditch match. It's not like our first year, and it never will be. People will die. Those little first years will die! We can't just go in there and take it as it comes anymore! We have to be prepared for the night to burst into flames! Voldemort could blast the bloody Great Hall to bits and we'd still be sitting there with our mouths full of roast duck. Like blubbering idiots, we wouldn't know what hit us…" Harry faltered a bit and cracked a smile at what he had just said. Before Hermione could speak to lighten the mood, he turned again to her. "I just, Mione, I wish people wouldn't rely on me as their only hero. I'm only one person…"
After a long silence, Hermione wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He was the closest to a brother she would ever get. He was her best friend, not like Ron, he was Ron. But this was Harry. And Harry was one of the best things that ever happened to her. "Harry, you are one very special person. And whether you know it or not you mean the world to me. I love you, I want you to remember that… always." She paused, thinking, "You'll beat that big death-eating bastard and I know it. We all know it. We have the utmost faith in you."
He turned then and seized her in an embrace he should have given her long before. Tears were streaming along his cheeks and she calmly rocked him in her arms. Behind them the castle loomed dark against the night. The light from the enormous windowpanes of the Great Hall was evident, as the last few students to be sorted could be seen queued next to Professor McGonagall, frightened and excited and noisy as a bunch of hippogriffs.
"Come on Harry, let's go and eat before they send Snape for us or something…" her smile faded a little at the thought of her despicable Potions professor. And fortunately that was all the encouraging Harry needed. After all they were both starved.
Hermione tied her hair in a ribbon as Harry summoned a house-elf at the main entrance to take their things to their rooms.
"—Erm, Head Girl rooms Tweeky," Hermione called after the stout little elf.
"Yessus miss."
Harry put a hand on hers stopping them before entering the Hall. "You know, sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you." He adjusted the frames of his hallmark glasses.
"And Harry Potter, I'd be lost without you." She smiled and slipped inside, murmuring something about her craving for Yorkshire pudding.
"I will never tire of Hogwarts food!" Ron exclaimed as he contentedly patted his stomach. The empty dinner plates in front of them had been instantly cleared and piles upon piles of desserts replaced them. Tarts and truffles, mile high ice cream sundaes, and puddings of all sorts made their way to the already stuffed stomachs of the students.
This year, the hall had been decorated even more intricately than in years past. The tapestries that bore the house crests were woven with metallic threads and glittered brightly, accenting the stars in the enchanted ceiling. A full moon shone brightly above the head table, where the immutable staff sat enjoying their dinners and talking amongst themselves. Professor Flitwick seemed to have acquired a taller chair, sitting comfortably without the aid of the infinite pile of old textbooks. Professor McGonagall was engaged in deep conversation with Professors Vector and Sinistra, something about the summer holiday. Hagrid and Professor Lupin, who had finally returned to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, were discussing the outcome of the year's Quidditch season whilst Dumbledore listened to everything intently with a grin of delightful satisfaction on his face.
The headmaster leaned to his left, over McGonagall's empty seat and inquired, "Severus, I did go out of my way to decorate the hall this year, do you think you could look up from your plate and enjoy it?" His eyes twinkled as he admired the enchanted silk ribbons and the charmed Cornish pixies that held them up, floating in midair.
"Headmaster, you must have realized by now that your feeble attempts at engaging in worthless conversation are going to continue to be useless." Snape jerked his head back to his black coffee, taking a gulp.
"Ah, back into the school spirit, I see… Excited about the new thirty seven first-years, Severus?"
"Thrilled," he sneered, "Pity they'll be scrubbing cauldrons by supper tomorrow night."
"I hear you'll have your work cut out for you this year with the sevenths as well-"
Snape's temples twitched and he cocked his head painfully to the side, wincing as his hot drink scorched his throat. His eyes narrowed and widened quickly. "If you are suggesting the almighty golden trio that have been an everlasting pain in my arse, then please refrain old man, for fear of loss of the food I've just eaten." He took another gulp of his coffee.
Dumbledore laughed, then placed his fork on the table and removed several lemon drops from the inside pocket of his robe. "They have come a long way Severus… they have grown very much. Something tells me they may not cause as much trouble as they have in years past." He smiled as his eyes became radiant in the light.
The Potions Master raised an eyebrow. "You've been drinking too much pumpkin juice."
"Perhaps." The old wizard chuckled.
Snape looked out across the hall. He noted how each head pointing his direction flinched away at his gaze. He raised an eyebrow.
Someone was laughing noisily. He knew that laugh. It belonged to the unbearable Weasley boy. He was obnoxiously cackling with a mouth full of tapioca, causing Longbottom and Thomas to sputter their tea. If Albus wanted him to give them the benefit of the doubt with maturity, the headmaster might be in need of a head examination. And there was Potter, engaged in conspicuous conversation with Finnigan and Finch-Fletchy, who had joined the table, no doubt about Quidditch, about crazy flying snitches, broom-flying pretty boy prance pants, and how he was planning to become even more arrogant than wizardly possible. Like father, like son. Like always.
And Granger, happily talking to the youngest Weasley, twirling her fork in the strawberry topping of the cheesecake on her plate, smiling a little…
Dumbledore cleared the desserts from the tables with a clap of his hands.
"Attention students. As you know, the Forbidden forest is off limits, as well as the third floor corridor without express permission from our groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor." Hagrid had a nutty grin plastered to his face, the Potions Master noted. And he furthered his sneer. As if three-headed dogs weren't enough, Albus the soft heart let the huge hairy infant keep the bloody thing.
"I am pleased to announce that both Head Girl and Head Boy are from the Gryffindor house this year, congratulations to Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom…" That one had taken a number on Snape when announced in the staff room in early July. Apparently the Headmaster expected him to believe that Neville's courage and protection during the past two years had proved above sufficient. And although Severus could not argue, Albus had made it very clear that it was not skills in Potions that decided Head Boy and Girl. 'It's something called kindness Severus,' he had said. The old fool.
"…And last but not least I have a little surprise for you all. As you can see, I have gone out of my way to extravagantly decorate the Hall this year. While thoroughly enjoying myself, I have come up with a wonderful idea for a ball. A Halloween ball!"
Cheers and murmurs erupted all around.
"All students attending must be fifth-year and above. Lower houses will have parties in their common rooms. ALL staff must attend," he was sending a very particular glare in Snape's direction. "And all attendees must be in full costume… prizes will be awarded." The hall broke into applause, heavily from the older students.
Snape inwardly groaned. He had a headache that rivaled those he endured during the Triwizard Tournament. He felt as old as Dumbledore, and needed his bed more than anything else at the moment. Setting his coffee cup aside, and reaching to refill his glass of brandy, he began thinking of schemes to get out of Albus' awful plans for Halloween, one of his favorite nights of the year. However, after a shower of confetti erupted from Albus' wand and left him, as well as the rest of the staff table, purple and glittery, he threw all his cares out the window and took a long swig from the bottle.
