A/N: Here we go again!
"Give me some warning next time!" Harry snarled as he got to his feet and faced Voldemort. "I could have been in a crowded room full of Muggles when you did that! You know how they panic!" He stood facing the other wizard, chest heaving up and down in anger and fury. Paul would go frantic if he had just seen Harry literally pass out like he had. Paul went frantic over many things, now that Harry thought about it, but this would be a justified frantic.
"Oh, did I make the little Gryffindor upset?" Voldemort mocked Harry with one hand held to his mouth, as though he was concerned for Harry. "Stomp on his precious little well being around the Muggles?" Voldemort let out a bark of laughter as a target appeared. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked Harry in a curious voice. "Wand out and hit the target."
Harry felt his magic gather behind his eyes and he fought it down to avoid giving away his secret. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. It felt dead in his hands. He had felt magic, true magic, not this…farce. He set his body in the stance Voldemort had lashed into him and raised his wand at the target. His magic spiked again and he fought it down faster than before. He let a small bit travel through his wand as he said the disarming spell. The target glowed an eerie yellow color and took a few minutes to fade away. Voldemort had stepped behind Harry and leaned down to speak into his ear. "Very good, my child." Oh, so now he was a child! "Very good. You are learning so much. Your progress is satisfactory." That was it? Satisfactory? Harry wanted to hit himself. He should be thankful that he was escaping without a curse. "How is life with the Muggles?" Voldemort asked, switching topics abruptly as he was wont to do.
"Horrid." Harry snapped. He was angry and he was going to take it out on someone. "They're oh-so-concerned about me and don't know when to leave me alone." He sneered. "As though they could possibly understand anything about me." He scoffed. "No matter how many times I tell them to leave me alone, they just keep coming back…for my own good, of course." Harry felt his magic spike again and a little stab of worry nudged at his brain. Why was his magic spiking like that? "No, they've got to take care of the 'frail little boy'." Harry performed a sneer of which Severus Snape could be proud and tightened his hands into fists. "They don't see." He told Voldemort as his breathing grew harsh and staggered. "They don't see that I'm not frail." His face changed into a look of disgust as he shook his head. "They don't see that I am-" He shook his head and tried to bring his breathing back into a normal pattern. "They don't see-"
Voldemort cut him off with a rather odd look. "They do not see how powerful you have become." Voldemort said with a dark pride shining in his eyes. "How much more powerful you will become given enough time and practice." He circled Harry as Harry tried to fight his emotions back to the point of control. "How superior you are compared to them." He stepped forward slowly, allowing Harry to watch his every movement, treating the boy as Hagrid would treat one of his injured creatures. "How special you are to those who can appreciate your power and abilities." Harry stared into the man's eyes as Voldemort reached up and caressed his cheek in the exact manner a father would do to his son. As Bleys had done to him on more than one occasion.
Harry had no idea how long he and Voldemort stood there, Harry's eyes locked onto the other wizards. He felt…safe. This was Voldemort! He shouldn't feel safe. He should be running in the opposite direction as fast as his feet could carry him. Voldemort brushed a hand over Harry's hair and Harry came back to himself with a jerk. He pulled away from Voldemort and looked the man over. Voldemort allowed it and only nodded. "Only I can appreciate what you will become, Harry." Voldemort told him. "I can practically feel your magic pouring off of you, fueled by your anger. Do you really think Dumbledore could teach you how to apply that?" Voldemort turned and walked a bit away from Harry, allowing the boy to ruminate over the idea for himself. "Only I can make you become who you truly are." He approached Harry again and noticed the turmoil in Harry's eyes. "My confused dark child. Raised in the light but never understanding where all his power originated and how best to use it." Voldemort reached out and tapped Harry's scar. "It originates there." Voldemort told him. The older wizard paced away and shrugged. "You will come to understand in time, my child." Voldemort told him as he waved his wand. "Only in time will you understand your destiny."
Harry felt the sleep spell settle around him and he closed his eyes with a still pensive expression on his face. Why did he feel that Voldemort was telling the truth? More importantly, what did it all mean? He jerked awake at his desk and sat up. One hand flew to his scar while the other covered his mouth. He wanted to be sick. He rubbed at the scar instinctually, only to stop when he felt no pain from it at all. His eyes grew wide when he realized that he had not felt pain in it at all during this last encounter. Oh, Merlin. He was going dark. He was turning into a Death Eater! No, worse. It was much worse. He was turning into Voldemort's second, just as the older wizard wanted. His stomach performed several acrobatic feats and he pushed back from his desk and stumbled into his bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and emptied his body of everything he had eaten that day. His stomach tried to get rid of everything from the past week, but found itself empty. That didn't stop the dry heaves from coming, leaving Harry gasping for air. He collapsed backwards onto the floor and tried to catch his breath. He couldn't be turning dark. He couldn't be. Tears leaked out from his eyes as Harry fought to control his breathing. He couldn't get enough air. He managed to move a shaking hand and pulled at his collar. Why couldn't he breathe?
"007?" He heard Jack in his bedroom. It was time for evening meds! Jack always checked with Harry to see if he wanted sleeping pills, which he was allowed to have if he needed them. He hadn't had any in a long time. Jack could help him! "Where are you, kid?" Harry gave a half-hearted kick at the door, but the slight bump he gave it was enough for Jack to open it and peer around it. "Evan?" Jack entered the bathroom and dropped to a knee next to Harry. "Just breathe." Jack said, pulling Harry's hand away from his collar. "Breathe to my count, okay? You're going to be okay. It's just a panic attack." Jack counted while Harry fought with his breathing. So, this was a panic attack. Paul had talked about them before, and Harry knew he had felt like he couldn't get enough air in the past, but he had never really connected the two before. "1,2,3, in." Harry followed the instructions and let out the breath when told.
"Paul." Oh, he sounded pitiful! Just pitiful. Jack whipped out his walkie talkie and said something to whoever was on the other end. "Hurts." He reached up to touch his throat again, but Jack stopped his hand. Why was he shaking? He just wanted it to stop!
"I know, buddy. You're having a hard time breathing, and that always hurts." Jack pulled Harry into a sitting position and leaned Harry against the wall. "Just remember, 1,2,3 in and 1,2,3 out." Harry could have sworn it was 3,2,1. Was he confused? Harry continued to follow Jack's instructions. He jerked in surprise as Paul suddenly appeared in front of him. When did he get there? He held out his arms to Paul and hoped the man could figure out the rest. He didn't have the air to explain what he wanted. Pathetic. Truly pathetic. Begging to be held like a three year old. I, Harry Potter, am PATHETIC. Paul reached out and pulled Harry into his arms. Jack stood and left the room, muttering something about tea.
"You're okay, Harry. You're safe here. I've got you." Harry's hands fisted in Paul's jacket and he hid his face against Paul's shoulder. So he was pathetic. Harry just couldn't care at that point. He listened as Paul whispered a lot of soothing words to Harry, each focusing on the theme that Harry was safe and that Paul was there. Harry felt his breathing coming back to normal and sighed.
"Am I a dark wizard?" Harry whispered to Paul. Paul cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the top of Harry's head. "Am I turning dark?"
"What makes you think that?" Paul asked softly as he reached up a hand and smoothed Harry's hair back.
"Am I?" Harry repeated. "Am I a dark wizard?" Harry took another deep breath and shuddered. "Am I evil?" His breath hitched and he started counting in his mind as he breathed.
"Just the fact that you are worried about it is enough to indicate that you are not." Paul told him sternly. "You are one of the most selfless people I know, Harry. You care for many people and love them deeply. Does that sound like a dark wizard to you?" Harry shook his head against Paul's shoulder. "No more talk about you becoming a dark wizard." Paul told him gently. He rested a hand on Harry's forehead and Harry leaned into the cool touch. "You are burning up!" Paul said in a shocked voice. "Why didn't you tell someone you were ill?" Paul asked.
"Am I?" Harry asked. He didn't remember feeling sick or out of sorts. One minute, he was thinking about Voldemort, and the next he couldn't breathe. He had got sick, but that didn't mean he was ill.
"Burning up." Paul stood and carried Harry with him. "You are getting tall and heavy, Harry."
"Bout time." Harry commented as he leaned against Paul. "I hate being short." Harry paused as he gathered his thoughts. "And scrawny. Hate being scrawny." He commented in a serious tone. He groaned as the room tilted sideways. He could have sworn that this room was three feet in the opposite direction. He had felt fine. Why did he feel so bad now? Mmm, bed. Bed sounded great. Paul lowered Harry onto his bed as Jack returned with tea.
"He's ill. Running a fever." Paul told Jack. "Could you call Dr. Lansky up here, please?" Paul accepted the tea and watched as Jack disappeared. He immediately thanked whatever power there was in the universe for those who chose nursing as their profession. Jack was invaluable.
"Hey, Paul." Harry whispered. He motioned Paul closer. Paul bent down to hear Harry's not so quiet whisper. "Voldemort earned a point tonight." Paul turned his head to look at Harry. Voldemort? Had this been a vision? What was this about points? "How fast do you think we could run away from the doctor?" Harry asked as he curled up on his blankets. "I hate the hospital wing." Harry confided. "It's too white." Paul smiled and ran a fond hand through Harry's hair. Normal kid there. "Madame Pomfrey has reserved a bed for me. No one else uses it. It's all mine." Harry told him.
"You're well on your way to earning that here, kiddo." Paul told him as he moved away and found where Harry kept his night clothes. "Do you think you can change by yourself?" He asked. Harry nodded and took the pajamas. He started down at them as though he had never seen them before. Paul left the room to wait for the doctor.
Harry changed and crawled into his bed. He knew he should be concerned. He was not feeling well and he should be resting, but he was really worried that Sensei was going to be disappointed in him. They had a training session first thing in the morning. Harry pulled up the covers and closed his eyes. Maybe Sensei would take it easy on him. Harry stopped and thought about it. Maybe not. "Sensei" and "easy" did not belong in the same sentence. Or the same thought pattern. Harry threw out a hand and called his book bag to him. He could read if he was going to be in bed.
He pulled out his science textbook and flipped it open to the chapter he needed to read. He dropped it when someone knocked on the door. "Come in." Harry had forgotten that Paul was waiting outside.
"Hey, buddy. Dr. Lansky is here to check you out." Harry nodded and set the book aside.
"You and I are seeing a lot of each other." Dr. Lansky said as he pulled Harry's desk chair up to the bed.
"Not by my choice." Harry said with a sigh.
"True. Paul said that you vomited?" Dr. Lansky said as he opened his bag and took out a tongue depressor.
Harry winced. He should have flushed the toilet before Paul got there. Oh, right. He had forgotten how to breathe. "Yes, sir." He answered. Might as well be truthful.
"Tongue out, say 'ah'." Dr. Lansky said as he examined Harry's throat. "Mmm, now what made you vomit? Were you feeling nauseated?"
Harry had to wait until the man removed the tongue depressor before he could answer. "Only right before." He shrugged. He hated those little wooden sticks!
"Mm-hmm." Dr. Lansky took out an ear thermometer and motioned for Harry to turn his head. Harry had been fascinated by this thermometer when he had first seen it and had asked the doctor to do it several times. Put something in an ear and get a temperature! He loved it and wondered if he could modify one for Pomfrey, just for his amusement. He could hear the purebloods' panicked screams now. "You're a little warm. Nothing to be concerned about."
"Do I have to go back in the infirmary?" Harry asked in the most pitiful voice he could muster. He noticed Paul smothering his laughter in the background.
Dr. Lansky looked his patient over and smiled at him. "I don't think so." Harry almost collapsed on the bed in relief. "Your fever is not too high. So long as the night nurse is willing to check on you during the night," Dr. Lansky turned and looked at Jack, who smiled and nodded, "then I see no problem with you staying here."
"Thank you." Harry said gratefully. "No offense meant. I just got out and I didn't want to go back." He told the doctor.
Dr. Lansky wrote down a few things on the now familiar file and nodded. "I understand. If you start feeling worse, tell Jack or one of the other night nurses. Tell somebody. The last thing we want is you to get worse and miss the dance or the play."
"I will tell someone the instant I feel worse." Harry promised. He was afraid of what Professor Bevington would do if Harry happened to miss the play. Death would be an option. Or a tantrum on the teacher's part. Harry had found that the drama teacher was a bit…dramatic. The teacher had what he called "attacks". His female students called them "drama queen moments". Harry called them weird and just backed away from the man. He did not want to be in the man's vicinity when he voice grew tight and squeaky.
"Good." The doctor's voice broke Harry out of his thoughts on the wonders of Professor Bevington's attacks. Dr. Lansky finished his examination and smiled at Harry. "I have an idea that you will be feeling better in the morning." He told Harry. "Take these" He held out two pills, "for your fever, and I'll check on you in the morning if I haven't heard about you beforehand."
"Thank you." Harry swallowed the two pills and smiled at Paul. Dr. Lansky left and Paul watched as Harry settled back with his textbook.
"Forget it, kiddo." Paul said as he took Harry's books from him. "You are going to rest. That means sleep." Paul sat in the chair Dr. Lansky just left and smiled. "Have you meditated?"
"Not yet." Harry answered. Paul gave him a look that said he should. Harry rolled his eyes, but closed them and settled his breathing. He hoped that he would not have to worry about panic attacks again. This one, now that he knew what to call it, was frightening. One at the wrong time could spell disaster later. He drifted off to sleep just a few minutes later, thinking of the Halloween dance. He smirked to himself as he realized that he did not miss the idea of a Halloween Feast. Floating pumpkins were okay, but he was going to be Darth Vader.
Harry did recover by the next morning without a sign that he had felt poorly at all. The rest of the week passed quickly for him and his friends as they all perfected their costumes for the dance. Harry and Bug had ended up with Sensei for dancing lessons (Harry could waltz, but that was the extent of his dancing, much to his chagrin). Sensei had been patient and told them that dancing was like fighting, without the physical contact of hitting others. Harry could only shake his head, but an hour with Sensei had given him enough to relax and move with the music. Rick had helped by acting as hopeless as possible when it came to the dance floor, leaving both Harry and Bug collapsed in laughter on the floor. Sensei had only muttered about some skills that were unable to be taught for those who had no natural talent.
Harry had shown Paul his costume. Paul could only respond with a "Lord Vader" in the most serious voice Harry had heard from him. Harry did not like the "lord" part of it, but he accepted it. He guessed he could carry the costume and could not wait to go to the dance, so long as Julie showed up. He did not want to be "unattached" at the dance. Julie was his shield against everyone else. He only hoped that she saw it that way too.
The first dress rehearsal had been an eye-opening experience for Harry. They had a regular rehearsal many times, but the dress rehearsal was the real thing. They all had to be ready for their opening night. Harry had found himself ambushed by the costuming crew the week before as a model as to how one should move with a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Even Professor Bevington had said that Harry looked like a natural. Oh, if only the kids at Hogwarts could see Harry Potter as a natural in a cloak. He had not felt comfortable in his robes until well into his first year. Christmas had only messed with his comfort level with his robes. He only began to feel comfortable again just after Easter. Needless to say, he preferred the Muggle clothing he had all his life.
Dress rehearsal was run real speed from the moment they all entered the theater. They were bundled into costumes while the crew dashed about to make everything ready. Harry had only a few seconds peace before several of the costume crew had called the actors for makeup help. Harry did not like makeup at all. He and the other actors had practiced with it several times, but Harry could still not draw a straight line under his eye. Bug hovered with a camera and took video of them changing into their costumes and putting on their makeup. His commentary was funnier than the images. He had caught Harry with eye liner and came up as close as possible to him. "Evan, line master!" The announcement caused Harry to draw a rather funny looking line under his eye. Harry had turned and threatened Bug's life if he didn't remove the camera. Bug had disappeared quicker than Lockhart's bravado when faced with a real challenge.
"Five minutes!" The call came through the backstage area. Harry finished with his powder and checked himself in the mirror. He didn't miss anything, did he? The powder was light, because they wanted him pale. He looked different from everyone else, who actually had fleshy tones to their makeup. Professor Bevington had explained that the villain was always outlined in some way or another and facial hair would only look "silly" and "cliché" for the villain. Harry jumped as Julie dashed in the doorway.
"Let me look at you!" She snapped. The energy backstage was almost like fire, and spreading just as rapidly. Harry felt it himself and had a hard time standing still. She studied his face and adjusted a lamp. "Stay still." She ordered as she grabbed the sponge. She added a bit more make up to his forehead before nodding to herself. She grabbed some lip color and used her finger to apply it to Harry's lips. "Whatever you do, do NOT lick your lips!" She sighed and patted some loose powder to keep the color on. She brushed some color on his checks and motioned for Harry to look at himself. Harry turned and nearly stepped back from the mirror. The change was subtle, but it was there. He was no longer Harry, or even Evan, but Edmund, the bastard son. He practiced a Draco Malfoy smirk and smiled at Julie when she clapped. "Alright, cloak on and get out there! Bevie is having a bit of an attack."
"Bevie" was the nickname of their drama teacher, and Bevie having an attack was a common occurrence, almost as common as Paul going frantic, but the idea was enough to cause Harry to pick up his cloak, swing it about his head to rest on his shoulders, and stride out of the room at a clipped walk. He felt his character slip onto him as he took his place, ready for the opening curtain. He felt calm standing there with none of the nervous energy that had filled him moments before. He didn't need nerves. Edmund had no nerves.
Three hours later found them all collapsed back stage. Harry and his "brother" had managed to find each other and congratulate each other on a nice bit of sword fighting before throwing themselves on a convenient sofa. Bevington had come back stage and congratulated them all on giving him several heart attacks. "Things go wrong in rehearsals. That's okay. There's a saying that if you have a bad dress rehearsal, the opening night will be perfect. Just remember that my heart is not as strong as it once was. Whatever you do, no one get hurt or sick in the next twenty-four hours. Got it?" He glared around the group as though trying to intimidate them all into perfect health. "Good. Now, everyone have fun this evening at the dance and I'll see you all here at two o'clock tomorrow." Harry and the entire crew leapt to their feet to go get ready for the dance. Or in Harry's case, wash off the makeup that was driving him barmy. Several other experienced students told him he would forget about it after a while, but Harry found it doubtful. Makeup itched!
Harry stepped out of his bathroom to find Paul waiting for him. Harry smiled at the man and pulled on his boots for his Darth Vader costume. He and Paul had a few sessions since Harry's panic attack and talked a great deal about what made a person "evil", but Harry had managed to avoid the questioning about Voldemort's point. Lord Snakeface had managed to score. He had scared Harry enough to make Harry doubt his own motivations. That was a well-deserved point and Harry would give it to him. Not that he knew Harry was keeping score. Harry did it to remind himself of things.
"You nervous?" Paul asked as Harry pulled Darth Vader's helmet on.
"Why would I be nervous?" Harry questioned as he fixed the clasps. "It's just a dance. I've been to one before." Harry explained.
"You're going with a girl." Paul explained.
"Just friends." Harry reminded Paul. "We're not going to be romantically involved anytime soon, Paul. Keep dreaming."
"I'm hurt, Harry. Really hurt." Paul watched as Harry fastened Darth Vader's cloak around his shoulders. "You look very intimidating." He told the boy.
"That's the idea." Harry said with a chuckle.
"Good. Get going. I'm sure Julie is waiting." Harry squared his shoulders and left his room, Paul tagging along behind. Every adult was chaperoning the dance and Harry had a feeling that more pictures of students were going to be displayed in the next week or so. Cameras were everywhere, taking pictures of the students as they paired off to dance. Well, at least his face was covered.
Harry hovered next to the door of the auditorium, waiting for Julie and laughing to himself when the other students skirted around him in a semi fascinated, yet terrified fashion. He did not ruin the persona of Lord Vader. He only folded his arms and glared at the crowd through the mask. They couldn't see it, of course, but he felt it working. Or, he hoped it worked.
"Hi, Evan!" Harry turned and found Julie dressed as a very convincing fairy, complete with wings and silver pixie dust sprinkled in her hair.
"How did you know it was me?" He asked as she hugged him. What was with girls and hugging? Not that Harry was complaining. Girls hugged him all the time. He couldn't understand why.
"Your costume is a bit obvious." She said with a smirk. "It fits you, for some reason." She shrugged. "I can't explain it. I mean, you're playing a villain, and you play a good villain, but you are also the same person who taught Bug how to dance, helped Missy with her lines, and coached Allen to become a true swordfighter. You just can't hide you real nature once you are off the stage."
"Shh. Don't give away my secret. Even walls have ears." Harry told her with a finger raised to the mask where his lips should be. "You look great." Harry told her, trying to change the subject. He never really felt all that comfortable discussing himself.
"Thank you. You ready?" She asked as she took his offered arm.
"Yes, I am." Harry led the way into the auditorium. The time passed quickly. The next time he looked up an hour had passed and he had danced for the entire time, sometimes with Julie and sometimes not. Some songs he just could not dance with a partner. Too fast and it was more fun in a group. They had just finished just such a song when Harry heard a welcome voice.
"Hi Skywalker!" Hermione's voice said at his right elbow. Harry turned and saw his best friend standing there with a huge smile on her face.
"Mi!" Harry hugged her. Okay, he understood the hugging thing now. That many girls were overjoyed to see him? Wow. Ron would be so jealous.
"Happy Halloween." She told him. "You are looking particularly evil this evening." She told him as she stepped back and looked his costume over. "Dad warned me about Darth Vader and just happened to slip this one to me." She said, twirling around.
"You make a stunning Princess Leia. Mi, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, too happy to continue that question.
"Well, the manipulative one is quite busy with some rather enthusiastic Halloween pranks that somehow managed to get into the food for the Halloween Feast. Something about the entire student body turning into human-sized canaries. Except me and my escort this evening." She nodded her head to a corner of the room. Sensei stood there with some people. One of the people turned and Harry nearly fell over in shock.
"Did I just see what I thought I saw?" He demanded of his friend. Hermione checked her hair (wrapped in Princess Leia style buns) and smiled.
"You did." She told him.
Harry turned back and stared. Snape stood next to Sensei dressed in a rather opulent outfit complete with cape. He looked…decadent, if that was possible. Harry jerked as he watched the man laugh at something Sensei had said. Snape was capable of laughter? And smiling? Harry noticed the long canines and Snape's costume became clear. He only hoped that the glass full of the red liquid was some of the punch offered at the refreshment table.
"Snape escorted you here?" Harry asked Hermione in a squeak. That was just…wrong. Snape was old enough to be her father.
"Of course not!" She told him with a laugh and roll of her eyes. "He's the chaperone. A pureblood thing I don't understand." She smiled and laughed at Harry's folded arms. "I wanted to come, but the rest of the PPs didn't want me coming alone, so one of them came with me, and Snape came along so we would be 'safe from temptation'. It's practically a Victorian way of thinking." Hermione explained patiently.
"So who is it?" Harry asked, ready to jump on a chair if that would help his search.
"It's me." Harry closed his eyes behind his mask and turned around. Draco Malfoy stood there dressed as Han Solo with a blaster at his side. Harry looked him over and shook his head. Draco Malfoy could pull off "scruffy-looking". "Surprised?" Draco asked with a smirk.
"Mi, you've gone to the Dark Side." Harry said mournfully.
"We're not dating!" Hermione snapped as she looked back and forth between the two boys. "Don't even think about it. Know-it-alls and no-good-smugglers do NOT belong together." She told them. Both boys laughed at that idea. Hermione made her point.
"Here you are!" Julie said as she came up beside Harry. "It's hot on that dance floor." She fanned herself with one hand before noticing Hermione and Draco. "Oh, sorry! You're friends of Evan, aren't you?" She asked with a bright smile. Harry thanked his lucky stars that Draco did not bother correcting the girl on Harry's name. "Hermione, right?" She asked.
"That's right, Julie. Nice to see you again." Hermione told her. "This is my friend Drake. He goes to the same school I do." She said in a bored tone.
Julie looked Draco over before offering her hand. Draco took it and bowed over it, just as he had done to Hermione at the beginning of the year. The music started up again. "Would you care to dance?" He asked Julie with his most polite voice. Julie accepted eagerly and allowed Draco to lead her to the dance floor.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione whispered. "They're so cute!" She squealed as Draco reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind Julie's ear. "The Pureblood Prince and the Muggle. It sounds like a fairytale." She said with a happy little smile. "He deserves someone nice."
"Mi, you're turning my stomach." Harry told her. "I can't see it." Harry stopped and looked at Julie's face as Draco spun her around in a rather daring interpretation of some kind of classical dance that just shouldn't fit to modern music, but he somehow managed it. "Or maybe I can." Harry looked across at Snape and noticed the man's look. Oh, great. The man saw it too. Harry didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.
"He seems quite taken with her." Hermione said, pulling Harry onto the dance floor. "Let's dance."
"I only hope he knows that she is a Muggle." Harry said as he followed Hermione's steps.
"Drake is not stupid." She told Harry. Harry smirked as he caught Draco Malfoy laughing at something Julie had just said. He wouldn't push the issue. She was having fun without stress. He was happy for her. "You excited about the play tomorrow?" Hermione asked.
"Excited?" Harry asked. "A little." Harry proceeded to describe his feelings about his role and Professor Bevington's "attacks" to Hermione. She laughed, just as Harry wanted. He didn't really know what to think about tomorrow. Everyone expected some kind of strong feelings, but Harry could only shrug. There were no strong feelings. He felt more comfortable saying lines than he did speaking in class. On stage was like flying in the Muggle world. Why couldn't anyone else understand that?
A/N: Next chapter – The play! Thanks to all who reviewed. I'm glad you enjoyed it and hope this is sufficient to hold you over until the next.