Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Erase/ Rewind belongs to PolyGram and Stockholm Records.

Chapter 5

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"Hi Lisa." Harry said, trying hard to keep the bitterness from his voice. After all it was not Lisa's fault that Ron was such a buckethead. He grabbed for two more bottles of butterbeer, opened them and handed to the waiting hands of Ron and Lisa. Harry looked towards Hermione, who had a mean look in her eyes. She was planning something and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be there when it happened.

"So Lisa, how' did your exams go?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

"Well…" Lisa obviously felt embarrassed. She blushed a little and looked down at her hands. "I didn't score high … but I did well at Potions so I'll probably open my own little shop somewhere. I was thinking about Diagon Ally but the rent is pretty high there and I don't know if…"

" Wow! How did you get to do well at Potions? What did you do? Pay Snape? Did a small favour for him somewhere in the past? Friend of the family?" Ron asked with amazement reflecting in his face.

"Yeah I wonder what kind of a favour was that…" Hermione muttered. She was starting to feel a tingle of anger towards Ron. She scored highest in all the subjects and did she ever get a wow from Ron? No! Harry sending her a warning look interrupted her train of thoughts.

Lisa however had not heard or noticed what Hermione had said and explained that she just was the best of the class at that subject.

"Well now I know what I should have done to be the best of the class at Potions – died my hair blond! Snape obviously has a soft spot for light haired people with no brains. Lisa here is a perfect example! In addition, she's not Slytherin! Wow! I mean, I'll go call my hairdresser this very second!"

Lisa looked at Hernione with a hostile look plastered on her face. Well, you cannot really say that it wasn't justified. Harry just stared at Hermione, who usually could keep her tongue behind her teeth and bare all kinds of insults with nose high up in the air, with utter disbelieve. He simply could not believe his ears. Ron was choking with laughter, his face all red, holding his stomach with his hands, almost falling under the table.

Lisa elbowed Ron and hissed: "Ron! You're supposed to be my date!"

That brought the poor boy back to the hard, cold and frustrating reality and he retained his I-don't-care-about-anything look.

What Harry wondered now was, how they could have a civil conversation after all the things Hermione had said. They just went on and on about silly little things like how they would miss Hogwarts, all their friends, teachers, and the feasts in the Great Hall. Actually it was Harry and Lisa, who participated in the conversation for Ron and Hermione were staring at the wall or the table, glancing at each other every once in a while.

"Where are you planning on going, Harry?"

"Um…I…am not really sure. The first thing I want to do with my life is move out from my present residence."

"Oh…right…The Muggles…Darsleys, was it?"

Harry looked towards Ron from the corner of his eye. He was drinking the eighth glass of some weird acid green cocktail. Harry was almost certain that if it would have been up to Ron he would have finished a bottle of Firewhiskey and started with a new one.

Harry was not the only one to notice Ron staring. Lisa might not have been the smartest person in the world, but she was smart enough to figure out what it meant if your date had been making goo-goo eyes at somebody else for the whole evening. She stood up and so did a confused Ron.

Lisa outstretched her hand and said: "It has been a pleasure knowing you Ronald Weasly." She shook his hand and walked off with dignity that Harry admired.

"Hermione, I hope you two will be very happy together." And with that, she left.

Ron sat down, stunned. He was not sure weather he should go after her or not. Hermione looked after Lisa, who had just disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall. She also was not sure of the fact whether she was expected to blush and look suprised about the situation or fall into Rons waiting arms. Well, Ron seemed just as confused as she was and his arms were not the place to fall into, at the time, so they sat in silence. Harry was tired of trying to make a conversation and let himself slide into his cloud of misery.

The Great Hall was emptying slowly. The tables that had been decorated beautifully before, now looked a mess: empty bottles, plates with unfinished bits of cake on them, fruit baskets that were still half full, butterbeer stains on the tablecloths. Half of the people that had filled the Great Hall before had now left the party, as it was two am already. Only a few brave dancers were still swinging to the beat.

Suddenly a voice said: "Last dance, folks!" And all the people still left in The Great Hall headed for the dance floor to have their last dance as Hogwarts students – the next day they would leave with the rest of the kids but with one exception – they would not be coming back the next autumn. When I said all, I meant all but three. Harry, Ron and Hermione were still sitting at the table, two of them deep in thought and the third one trying to figure out how to get his friends to go and dance at least the last dance together.

Harry got up and offered Hermione his hand: "Want to dance?"

"Yeah. Why not. It's the last one."

Ron had got up from his seat as well and looked towards the door of the Great Hall not to look at Hermione nor Harry and said: "Well, since my date ditched me I'll go to sleep."

"You can't leave."

"Why not?"

"Well, I guess that Hermione will have to dance alone then…."

"What, on earth, are you talking about Harry?" Hermione said.

"Well you see," Harry said escorting his two friends towards the dance floor, "I just got the most terrible cramp in my left foot…" Harry said pointing on one of his feet.

"Harry, that would be your right foot you are pointing at." Ron said pulling a face at Harry.

"Well you can never really tell, now can you?"

Ron looked Hermione in the face. Fare skin, that puffy, curly chocolate brown hair, those eyes of hers… Sounds of the band starting to play and slow tunes of music floated towards them. Hermione didn't exactly know what to do since Ron was staring at her as if he was petrified and everybody else were dancing and bumping into them a little, since they were the only ones standing in the middle of the dance floor in everyone's way.

Hey,
What did you hear me say?
You know the difference it makes
What did you hear me say?

Yes,
I said it's fine before
But I don't think so no more
I said it's fine before

I've changed my mind
I take it back
Erase and rewind
'Cause I've been changing my mind
Erase and rewind
'Cause I've been changing my mind

I've changed my mind

So,
Where did you see me go?
It's not the right way, you know
Where did you see me go?

No,
It's not the light, oh no
I just don't want it to grow
It's not the light, oh no

Erase and rewind
'Cause I've been changing my mind
Erase and rewind
'Cause I've been changing my mind
Erase and rewind
I've changed my mind

"Um…Ron? Dancing?" Hermione stated.

"Huh? Yeah, right."

END OF FLASHBACK

Harry came back to the present day. Memories. He sighed. Harry hated asking for help, because he was used to handling things on his own.

The three years that had passed had made him even more famous than he used to be, if possible. He was now a seeker for England's National Quiddich Team, under the steady hand of Oliver Wood, who had also made the team after graduating from Hogwarts. Harry's job paid well, you could actually say that he was one of the best-paid seekers in the world. He could have got the best protection available, but after Colin had offered that he should ask Ron and Hermione for the job, he realised that he wanted nobody else. If he asked the Minister of Magic for help, he would probably send fifty men to protect the national treasure and watch him 24 hours a day. Lots of paperwork and things like what colour his undoes where on a particular day or how many spoonfuls of soup he had for lunch would most certainly find their way onto the pages of the report.