"Harry! Harry!" Gin waved as he walked into the Great Hall at breakfast. He didn't need to look at the Slytherins in the room to know that they were glaring at him for being such a bloody public spectacle. It wasn't as if he liked it...
He trotted over to Gin, and asked, "What is the matter, Ginny?"
"Harry! We never told you how the telephone came out!" Hermione Granger said, giggling, "Sky was beautiful fire, all twists met upwards, every wash in thin pink gauze."
Harry let out a decent guffaw, suppressing how loud it was just before the rest of the hall turned to look at the Former Chosen One. Oh, the Slytherins were probably looking - but that was nothing new, and Harry couldn't be bothered with what they were thinking.
Hogsmeade was a swirl of laughter, words floating on the breeze. Harry was there with Ron and Hermione, and they were darting back and forth as stores caught their interest. All in all, it was a busy, productive day. Harry'd have loved this first year, he thought with a grin. However, this year, Harry wondered if he'd have time for the homework before Monday. His friends never seemed to think about his extended coursework when compiling study schedules. And whose fault is that?
Harry'd had so much fun doing silly, small things that he'd even neglected looking at other people. Which, turned out to be a rather flagrant mistake.
"Why, hello there! It's Mister Harry Potter!" Minister Fudge effused in Harry's general direction. Shite, Harry thought - I'd have dodged him if I'd noticed him.
That was Draco Malfoy beside the Minister, too. Even worse... Harry wanted to grumble.
"Why don't the three of us go off and discuss common ground." Minister Fudge said, to Harry's absolute bafflement. Nobody adult paid attention to children. Surely not on large matters. Then again, Harry thought, I do have a trust fund...
Harry wasn't sure what to expect, heading into his first real Order Meeting. Particularly in the Room of Requirement. He entered with his wand in his hand, his shoulder leading, and in a half crouch.
"Expecting someone else, Potter?" Tonks said with a cheery grin, her foot balanced on the tipped back of another chair.
"Constant Vigilance." Harry responded, closing the door and inspecting the room. There was one table, shaped in a cloverleaf, of all configurations (that Had to be Dumbledore, Harry thought with exasperated amusement), wall sconces, and half the room was lined with dusty old books. Was this the first time they'd used this - or did they just like to conjure sneezes?
"Oh, divine, the first of the glorious Gryffindors. Bravery will not be a requirement for the next hour or three, I'm afraid." Snape seemed to ooze venom out of those greasy pores of his. Harry wanted to frown in exasperation, and ask Snape just what the hell he was really doing. The infamously impatient misanthrope attending at all was one thing, but arriving early? That defied belief.*
Before Harry could speak, Gin and Ron and Hermione piled in. "Lovely, the rest of the headless heartsmen. If only I had a brain." Snape managed that last in a darkly dire melody**, which Harry could vaguely sense ought to have been funny. But, as it was Snape, it was unwise to laugh at any comment. He was the type to demand attention, and respect.
Before the door could shut, Luna Longbottom gently sashayed through, her bottlecap necklace sparkling over her robes. Who wore robes on Saturday? Luna Lovegood everyone.
"Oh, and the Daffy Raven as well." Snape's acid voice rang out in that soft way that echoed through the room.
Luna looked at Snape - keeping her usual vacant expression, of course - and reprimanded, "Daffy was a Duck."
"Do you want me to get you a bill?" Snape shot back.
"Oh, my humor's not that good. Not worth knut-ting." Luna conceded humbly.
Other people piled in, and Snape grew quieter. The Gryffindors were carrying on a grand conversation (Luckily, it wasn't about Lavender Brown), and the older order members filed in. Harry's eyes kept track on the arrivals, and on Snape's responses.
Harry Potter had something to say to Snape, and the hubbub of the room made a decent cover, as most people hadn't deigned to sit (and Snape, while seated, had his back to the wall and was using his sharply angular legs to clear space around him). Harry approached from the side, quietly moving in the holes in the crowd. It was something he'd taken to early in his life, in primary school when drawing notice meant the pain of Dudley's punch. The pace was excruciatingly slow... but it was also nearly unnoticeable. Not that most of his friends were looking, but there was always the chance that Remus Lupin or Moody would look up and see.
By the time Harry had approached to something resembling Snape's side (standing about three feet away - a far, but comfortable distance for talking), the room was getting inordinately crowded.
They both faced the crowd, as was prudent. Harry spoke up, trying (and probably failing) to emulate Snape's liltingly soft voice. "Thank you for the detention, sir."
"Are you trying to insinuate that I'm losing my memory?" Snape spat, "Exactly when was this mythical detention?"
"Why, right now, of course." Harry said, his mouth curving slightly into a shadow of a smile.
"What possible reason did you see to involve me in your lies?" Snape hissed.
"You're the reason I had to lie in the first place." Harry stated baldly.
Snape shot to his feet, the elegantly facade of nonchalance evaporating instantly. "How's that?" Snape's hands had curled into fists, and Harry could see the effort he was putting into not grabbing Harry by the collar and throwing him against the wall.
"Fudge wanted Malfoy and I to support his campaign. The Minister looked like his brief conversation might have lasted days." Potter said, his eyes cold. "Malfoy may still be there, for all I know."
"Very well," Snape said, those black eyes drilling into Harry's green eye (Harry had still not turned to face Snape, maintaining the insouciant pose), "In the future, anything you need my word to back up should be communicated to me as soon as possible." Harry nodded, his eyes discretely on Snape. "At that point, I will decide whether or not I will corroborate your story." Harry's feet shifted uneasily beneath him - he really hadn't asked himself what he'd have done if Snape had just called him a worthless liar. "I will, of course, inform you of this, so that you may prepare accordingly."
"Yes, sir." Harry Potter said crisply.
In a voice that was softer than a whisper, Snape added, "One point to Gryffindor. For cleverness. It would hardly do for you, of all people, to miss the first meeting of the year. People still look to you to set an example, gods know why."
In the great hall, one ruby gem dropped into the bottom of the hourglass. Harry had seen that happen so many times over the course of his schooling, but this one was different. Like a crack in the ground after an earthquake, it just sat there - radiating latent danger. Kind of like Snape himself, if you think about it.
"ORDER!" Dumbledore rumbled.
"Next stop: The Valley of Boredom." Snape drawled softly, carrying his chair back to the table.
Snape had been right. Arthur Weasley spent nearly twenty minutes talking about helicopters, except the way he said it, it sounded like heely-kopters. This didn't seem to bear much resemblance to "information that might be useful to the War against Voldemort," particularly as half of what he was talking about was actively wrong or misleading. Helicopters didn't run on petrol, for instance. They ran on kerosene, which was much, much more flammable. And if even Harry knew that... Well, they were wizards, and old ones at that. Probably not used to listening to their younger bloods.
Molly Weasley was even worse, her stories tending towards gossip, as she filled everyone in on the goings on at Ottery St. Catchpole. Of course, it might have been useful to have an invisible ear on the ground, if Lord Voldemort was actually doing something. But did we really need to hear about how Evie's aunt Risca got her hair dyed green and couldn't fix it? Besides, Harry was internally quite certain that Hermione could fix it at will.
And on and on, though Harry had to give Moody credit - at least his commentary on the Auror work that he was steadily infiltrating as an outside consultant was fascinating business.
Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed - the entire meeting seemed truly interminable, when Snape stood up (He had occupied a place as far away from the middle of the table as possible, and when he stood, he loomed over everyone. "My report: The Dark Lord appears amused at the sight of the Order of the Phoenix running about like chickens with heads cut off - blood spurting everywhere. He has adopted a wait-and-see attitude, though I'm certain that he's advancing longer range plans that he hasn't seen fit to involve me in. I strongly suggest that the Order continue to feed his assumptions on this matter, whether they are accurate or not." Harry, internally, thought that they were more accurate than Snape was making them sound. Snape'd been about the only person with spine at Grimmauld, and Harry'd caught McGonagall looking at him with a saddened expression this morning at breakfast even.
It almost seemed like... everyone had hoped that Harry would be able to fix what his own blood had created (well, everyone except Snape, of course.). Oh, and sure, Harry thought wryly, if I'd been able to just WISH him away, I'd have done so posthaste.
"Your report's done. Time to leave, spy." Moody growled, tamping his cane on the ground once, hard.
Snape left with a sneer, Harry looking after him a bit jealously - he at least got to leave. It wasn't like harry had anything to report. Of course, that did explain why the boring people went first - if Snape wasn't trusted with the more secretive matters.
Harry Potter rapidly discovered, as the meeting turned more intricate and delicate, that he was honestly getting angry that Snape wasn't here. True, these were the Order's plans, or scant shadows of Voldemort's cast on the wall... things that Dumbledore would rather Voldemort not know about, at nearly any cost.
But still, it felt wrong to him. Like the sound of a snake slithering through grass - almost unnoticeable and completely spine-tingling.
Snape, of course, was a top-drawer actor. He'd had to be to survive being a spy (and, perhaps, Harry contemplated, being a teacher as well. He couldn't have started as that dark bastard of the classroom, could he have? At some point, he'd have stood up there, just as nervous as Harry or Hermione'd been the first DA meeting...).
But, it seemed like Dumbledore was actively forgetting a far more integral part of Snape - his insight. Unlike Hermione's, it was tuned to people, not magic or things. He'd known it was Quirrel, after all. And even in fourth year, when they'd all been jumping at shadows, while the real danger lurked below...
And it wasn't like they were really planning anything amazing. The biggest plans they had were to send the Open Order Members (a contradiction in terms for a vigilante organization, but Voldemort knew about some of them - and not always through Snape) scanning the Continent for birth certificates. Testing the children.
Harry shuddered. It had been hard enough coming to terms with being Britain's Saviour at the tender age of eleven. How much worse would it be, at the age of sixteen, and when you didn't even live there? "Oh, excuse me, good chap, would you mind popping over and saving our bonnie wee land?" Harry really hoped that Hagrid wouldn't be breaking the news. Hagrid was a good friend, and all, but he wasn't really the type. McGonagall would be a better choice.
As the meeting continued, Harry slipped more into the doldrums of his mind. What if this Saviour was some sort of genius? Nothing like Harry Potter at all... something like Hermione, or Dumbledore (ak! thinking of him at age sixteen was actively horrifying!). Would they all clap Harry Potter on the shoulder, saying "we're sorry, old boy, for putting all our cares and hopes on you. Obviously there was a better choice, right there all along."
Even Hermione, who'd been scribbling notes most of the meeting, was starting to flag. Neville and Ron were being inattentive, but that wasn't unusual. The weasley twins had their heads together, in a look that Harry'd recognize any day of the week, it was so familiar.
As the meeting ended, Harry Potter stood up, his friends exiting with him - as he slowly started to work on controlling his anger. He was not going to storm up and yell at Albus Dumbledore! He ... wasn't.
"I'm going flying." He said curtly, and said no more, though he was aware of Ron and Hermione's eyes on his back, watching him worriedly.
Sunday dawned, crisp and clear - the sky the actinic blue of Autumn, piercingly bright. Harry Potter rose as a force of will, sweeping through the Gryffindor dorms - a nudge here, a cough there. People begin to stir. Harry's already dressed, with his robes looking pressed and pristine. Which would be all to the good and all, if his wayward, rampant hair wasn't ruining the look. It was apparently trying for a mohawk today. Harry had decided he wasn't speaking to his hair, and was going to ignore it, because it always did what it wanted.
Harry went down the stairs, and found himself staring up at the Girls' side of the dorm. It was such a beautiful day, it would be a shame if anyone wasted any last second of it. And so, Harry began to sing. "Ri-ise and Shine, and Give God the Glory Glory..." It was a song that Harry'd heard on a Summer Camp movie a very long time ago, but he'd memorized it (catchy tune that it was), and so he was waking the dorm with it.
At least he was until Hermione cannonballed into him, giggling and laughing.
And then there were two. "Riiise and shiiine and give god the glory glory!"
Dean followed, hurrying down, his face split in a wide grin. "Man, I haven't heard this in ages!"
And then there were three. "Riiise and shiiine and give god the glory glory!"
As if in waves, the Gryffindors charged down the stairs, half wanting to flee the horribly catchy and offtune song - the others wanting to smother the offending instruments of their aural pain.
By the time they sat at the Great Hall, half the Gryffindors were sporting some sort of bruise, bump or sore spot. They were all grinning happily, though, and the Slytherins eyed their seats warily, as if wondering what new trick the Gryffs had come up with. The Ravenclaws liked to pretend that they were above noticing other people, but with the Gryffs that happily carefree...
"Why're you all so ebullient?" Draco Malfoy drawled, approaching the table at an angle, so it was clear that he was really just heading towards the Slytherin table. Or at least, Harry thought, that was the theory. Light forbid that Draco Malfoy voluntarily or willingly want to talk with Gryffindors!
"Donnybrook in the Common Room," Seamus drawled, doing a surprising imitation of Draco himself.
Dean said, "You shoulda seen the shiner I put on Weasley there!"
Gin responded, "Yeah, I oughta shine you, for that!"
"You'd have to hit me first!"
"Easy as pie!"
As the table dissolved into recounting different bits of the brouhaha, only Hermione and Harry's eyes stayed pinned on Draco Malfoy, who simply rolled his eyes, and said uncomprehendingly, "Gryffindors."
"Just spreading happiness at the end of a fist, Malfoy." Harry said, giving the Slytherin a toothy, sharp-edged grin. "Want a rematch?"
"Hardly fair, when I won the first round." Draco Malfoy drawled.
"As if!" Harry snorted, "You tried to sic Filch on us...but we escaped!"
"Maybe we do need a duel, then..." Malfoy said smoothly, softly, letting the entire conversation carry on below the din of the Gryffindor table. "I'll be in touch."
As Draco Malfoy sauntered over to his table, Hermione looked at Harry, eyes wide, and asked, "Did you just -?"
Harry nodded, looking a bit baffled, "Yeah, I think I did. Stupid, right?"
Hermione smirked, flicking her not-a-wand out of her sleevepocket with a thought, "Good training." she said approvingly.
Harry was one of the first Gryffindors out of his seat at Breakfast, ignoring the look that Ron shot him (more of confusion than anything else, as if he couldn't understand why Harry was leaving first). Hermione made to gather together her stuff, but Harry didn't wait for her.
He was headed towards the Room of Requirement, and he wanted to get there first. He had a few ideas as to how to make a happy memory, and he'd need a bit of luck, a bit of time, and a bit of careful planning.
Unfortunately, Luna Lovegood was there before him, so that put paid to his plans. Except... that when he approached, Luna winked at him. "Come on in, the water's warm!" she said, and traipsed into the happily solid room (Harry wasn't the best at swimming).
"What'd you pick?" Harry asked, getting the first look at the room as he closed the door behind him.
"Nothing, yet! You want something, head left and ask!" Luna responded gayly.
Harry thought a moment, pulling together a curtain (that looked like a bath curtain, so he shook his head and tried again, getting a red "opening night" curtain instead.). Harry nodded at that, and started to concentrate on a stage worthy of the scene he wanted to craft.
Luna, to the right, started to sing, concentrating on Butterflies and sun-dappled meadows, bunnies and all sorts of pleasant things.*
Hermione came in, and looked baffled at what was going on. "What's happening?"
"Oh, hi Hermione," Luna said with a smile, "Have you any ideas on how to make someone a happiest memory?"
"Tons!" Hermione said. "I started with sunshine, and then I couldn't help but remember Crookshanks playing with a toy..."
"Oooh, give me those!" Luna said, snatching the list right out of Hermione's hand. "Just a mo', this won't take long." Peeking out from behind the curtain, Harry could see Luna twirling away, a pleasant reading nook with a fire and hot chocolate appearing, and Harry's mouth started to water just thinking about it.
Harry smiled, as he peeked out from behind the curtain. Everyone seemed to have a different definition of what would create a happy memory, and as more people showed up, the Room of Requirement got steadily more bombastic and intricate. Maybe you had to be there, Harry thought, bouncing from puffy cloud to cloud, trying to reach Cloud Nine (it was labeled, thank you Hermione), or in Vince's world of vicious breezes and swifter than Satan broomsticks. I think that's more thrilling than gleeful, Harry thought, although he'd looked at what Luna had first conjured, and just gotten calm, rather than happy, so what did he know?
Someone was baking a pie, Harry could tell, sniffing at the scent wafting over his curtains. Peeking out the other side of the curtain, he could see... That's Theo Nott, nicking a pie off the windowsill. Catching Harry looking at him, Nott gave the green eyed boy a wink. I don't think I've ever seen him smile... Harry considered.
Hermione had, for some strange reason, gone into the broomstick space, and was casting... spells? As Harry watched, the broomsticks began careening out of control, some of the weaker flyers crying out in fear, and some of the stronger ones just holding on for the ride. But Hermione still had her wand up, and she began spinning it slowly, and the broomsticks got ever more wild. As people fell, they disappeared from the scene and Harry would just have to hope that they weren't gone for good, or bleeding. Finally, Hermione gave a final wave of her wand, and all the broomsticks disappeared, leaving multiple students screaming bloody murder as they plummeted toward the ground.
Harry closed his eyes, suddenly thankful that the RoR was soundproof.
Harry heard gleeful giggling, a sort of hysterical laughter, and opened his eyes. The broomstick flyers were crowding around Hermione - they were all on trampolines, Harry suddenly recognized, and started to bounce her into the air. Unharmed, relieved - and unexpectedly playful.
Harry hadn't really believed that he could, would, ever see some of this.
Draco Malfoy walked through the scenes, seeming as if the entire thing might roll off his back, not interacting with anything. The Hufflepuffs had created a skinship zone, where people were hugging each other, and Draco sidestepped a few of them, as they nearly fell trying to interact with a body that wasn't there.
It's showtime!
Harry's magic whipped the curtain back, and he stood there, three red balls in his hands, as he let the crowd get a good gander at him. Dressed in baggy clothes, with big shoes, Harry's face was painted sad, and he had a big red nose, so he'd look like a drunk. Well, a drunk he could play, at least. "Shtep right up- Here's da showsh! Juggling and dancing -" People were starting to gather, from other realities, other happy places.
Harry started to juggle, never paying no mind that he didn't really know how. It made it awkward, trying to catch three things and have them in the air at once, but that just lead to wild armed flailing and balls half the time on the floor. It was utterly ridiculous, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught one of the Slytherin girls smothering a grin.
Harry Potter finished his juggling act with a backwards somersault that he spun into as he bent to pick up one ball and stepped on another. The audience echoed with laughter, some chortling, some with a more raucous beat - Harry could see, as he stood stiffly up and bowed, still rubbing his backside, that Zach Smith was laughing malevolently. Malfoy somehow looked superior, even while laughing. "Don't quit your day job." Draco Malfoy hollered.
"Our Turn!" Padma and Parvati said, standing up on both sides of Harry and tugging him down off the stage. They both returned to the stage, and snapped their fingers. Indian music began to play, and they did a mirror dance, displaying for everyone exactly how accomplished they were. Harry couldn't help but look at their hips, and breasts, as they swayed to the music, undulating in place and spinning like dervishes.
Wendy and Jill stood up, and took to the stage, singing a muggle song, "Love potion number ni-i-ine."
Who knew Collin Creevey could do magic tricks? Granted, they weren't good tricks (you could generally tell when he palmed the cards), but it was driving the purebloods absolutely crazy that he wasn't using a wand! Harry hadn't the heart to tell them that it wasn't that kind of magic. Besides, explaining muggle magic tricks to Ron Weasley would take hours.
Seamus and Dean were next, singing Weird Science. That got strange looks from everyone.
When had this become a bloody talent show?
From behind the whole audience (which was most of the DA), a Middle-eastern tune sprang up, and, as everyone turned around, they saw Blaise Zambini, looking like Aladdin himself, smiling a wicked grin. "Join me, let's have some fun." He called out, his hips swaying to the beat. "Nothing below the belt, otherwise, it's all fair game." Why - doesn't he just know he's the hottest boy in school? Well, if not that, at least the wildest. Who'd else have dared to suggest an orgy?
Lavender strode into the Harem, full of fountains and pillows and Arabic arches. "Me first," She said with a saucy grin, planting a kiss on Blaise's lips that lasted only ten seconds, yet wound up with them both twisting tongues.
"Who'll take this fine lady off my hands?" Blaise yelled, completely amused.
"I'll do that," Zach Smith said, oozing onto the dance floor. Pansy was next, and she took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Lavender's mouth. Harry, intently studying the developing scene, was nonetheless aware of panting boys around him, with wide eyes and hungry looks.
Sue Bones actually pushed Hannah into the Harem next, and then Hannah, laughing and blushing, grabbed Sue and dragged her along.
With a cool eyeroll, Draco Malfoy stepped into the Harem, stepped up behind Hannah, and wrapped his hands around her waist, as he planted a kiss on her neck. Hannah looked back at him as Draco turned her, so that they were both facing the ... audience. "Hey, Griffindorks, what's the matter, you scared?" That was, needless to say, a really strange tone to use while taunting people. It was almost like he wanted to invite us, but ... couldn't find the words, except for insults.
With a wave of his wand, Harry stripped out of the weirdest parts of his gear, leaving him in tattered clothes, but without big shoes or a red nose. He walked, steadily, towards the Harem - and people murmured around him. Hermione looked at him with a glare, and Gin felt like she was giving him more than that - a "don't fuck with me" stare. So, Harry did what Harry was going to do.
First, he smiled, that ten galleon smile that he knew (somehow!) made girls shriek.
Next, he said, "I've never been the type to turn down a dare."
Then, he grabbed Gin Weasley (who shrieked), as he twirled her in.
Harry wasn't, um, quite as prepared for the kiss-with-tongue she planted on his face. Or her muttered comment, "Stick with me, kid." What was that, really? was she referencing something? Offering to look out for him? Harry wasn't sure he shouldn't be offended by that... Still, Gin was pretty - he'd meant it when he'd said she looked like a knockout, and it was fun carding his hands through her short copper hair.
Others took that as their cue, and the whole place was filled with people necking, dancing, snogging. Hermione stood on the edge, looking nervous, until someone - either Goyle or Millie, Harry thought, grabbed her and tugged her bodily into the scrum. Ron still stood outside, looking a bit wary - but everyone else had managed to get in. Well, let him be. Harry's eyes focused on Ernie, his pudgy fat hand rolling over Daphne Greengrass's pert little breast. She was laughing at his eagerness, her hand guiding his. Luna's hands were wrapped around - was that Zambini? Harry thought it was, and he couldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it. Gretchen had her arms around little Collin Creevey, who was looking so unsure of himself, that Harry'd not really thought possible...
Owch! Harry looked around, to see Gin grinning at him, "You forgot about me, didn't you?" Sheepishly, Harry nodded assent.
The room narrowed down to Gin's thin lips and her small, perky breasts. Harry didn't even notice a single other detail until the entirety of the Harem was washed out with one loud cascade of water, right out of the ceiling.
"That's enough of that, Harry - that's my sister!" Ron Weasley said, and Harry flushed beet red.
"Thanks for ruining it for the rest of us," Seamus complained.
"Hey, that was my line," Draco Malfoy responded, his hands still wrapped around ... Hannah Abbot, flushed a pretty pink.
"Now, this should go without saying, but if you must gossip about this, do it in this Room, not outside." Draco Malfoy said, softly but clearly - in that peculiar carrying tone that Snape always used in class. Draco Malfoy, who looked cool as a cucumber saying it, too. Sometimes Harry hated how even-keeled the Slytherins could be. It made them deuced difficult to read.
Hermione, on the other hand, was a snap to read - and she had her hand raised to her face, two fingers on her lips, and she was staring off into space. And that was all Harry really needed to see, to put together all the clues.
Shite, so he's kissed her then? Why that twerp - running away was he? Harry wanted to kick something, and hard. Preferably Malfoy's arse. Here's good old Harry, there to pick up the pieces. Yeah, that's me, good old Harry Potter. Best Friend. This... was going to suck. Better make sure Ron doesn't figure it out, too - despite his current obsession with Lavender Brown, he's had a longstanding crush on Hermione... and he hasn't managed the bollocks to kiss her yet, either. Which means jealousy on top of jealousy, served up with a side of more jealousy.
Well, Harry thought, I can't deal with this now, particularly since it's classtime. Set it aside, deal with it later.
"It seems like imagination's the key," Theodore Nott said, loud enough to carry. "Why don't we each try conjuring something happy?"
Around Harry, there were nods, and - the Slytherins especially, began to conjure miniature rooms for themselves. Moments later, Harry heard the distinctive sounds of a bed squeaking out a humping rhythm.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood there uncomfortably, as the whole tenor of the Room seemed to change, smelling more... keyed up. Harry would have buried his head in his hands, but this actually might prove helpful, and he couldn't really begrudge anyone the opportunity to feel good if it wasn't hurting anyone.
There was a sound, like a soap bubble popping, and suddenly Luna was twenty feet above ground, in a clear white space, falling. Hermione quickly cast a cushioning charm, and then there was another pop, leaving a fourth year student falling, who Harry, almost without thinking, caught in a featherlight spell, watching the tanned boy float softly to the ground.
The soap bubbles turned into a cascade, like popping corn, and Harry was sure that someone was going to miss being caught. The end of the popping caught Blaise Zambini, with his trousers half down, and his penis out. Blushing, He gave a wide, white grin to the ladies, as he tucked himself back into his pants. That's one bloke that's sure he's well endowed, Harry thought with amusement.
Luna said, hesitantly, "I guess we can overload the Room of Requirement..."
"We should try it again, only carefuller this time!" Hermione bubbled furiously. Everyone looked at her askance, and, as she fell out of her "science-trance", she looked at everyone staring dubiously at her, and said, "It was just a thought! For science!"
The rest of the DA meeting seemed to fly by, Harry thought, though it might have been just his blatant "not paying attention."
As the meeting began to break up, Harry tugged Hermione off to one side, saying, "We need to practice more."
Hermione nodded at him, her mouth grinning gleefully. It was rare, after all, for Harry to want to do more work, even at defense, which he was honestly sharp at.
"Tomorrow, same time, same place." Harry said, grinning at his "already busy planning" friend - Harry might be more of a people person than Hermione'd ever be, but she was certainly the person to turn to when you needed something academic done. How had she managed to not get into Ravenclaw?
Neither of them noticed Draco Malfoy, standing very quietly and eavesdropping shamelessly behind a potted plant that Lovegood had conjured.
Harry could tell that Hermione wanted to talk with him - she kept on shooting him urgent glances, and then sighing in frustration. Even Ron asked at breakfast, "what's up with her, Harry?" Harry had just given a shrug, though he knew quite well what was up with her. It wasn't his call to tell, anyway. And he'd have advised Hermione against telling Ron anyway. Gin was grinning at Harry like she'd pullled the golden goose, and she seemed to expect him to want to sit beside her. Which, he generally didn't mind doing, but he also didn't want her to get any ideas... They were not dating, and he did not fancy her... much (one episode in the shower doesn't count, he did that with practically every girl). So he sat on Ron's other side, and dealt with Gin shooting him glares - which, he thought, was much better than her openly weeping. He always felt so confused when girls had a good cry. Was he supposed to hold them? Would that be a bad idea when Gin clearly fancied him?
So, so much better to be glared at.
Potions in the afternoon was ... well, almost disconcertingly normal. First Snape collected homework - sans the normal comment on Hermione's overeagerness (Harry thought that she'd brought her pages down to just under the asked for amount). Then, Snape was lecturing about potions that could take away someone's will, and then using the Babbling Beverage as his example - the one the class was to brew. Babbling Beverage was an easy potion, but the point of the exercise was to make certain that everyone in the advanced potions class knew how to do the simple things right. Snape corrected everyone, somehow - even Malfoy and Hermione. It was remarkably impartial, and Harry almost felt himself beginning to relax in Potions class - and that never happened!
"Potter," Snape said abruptly, nearly making Harry jump, "You've left a complete wreck of your workspace." Harry was actually just decanting the potion. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Sorry, I was just in the middle of..." Harry Potter said.
"Do not whine." Snape snarled, "It was a simple question, you can answer it so, as well." Snape looked down his long nose at Harry Potter, "And you ought to remember to address me as sir or Professor. I've certainly told you often enough."
"Yeah, sorry." Harry said, scratching the back of his neck as he looked down.
"Sorry, what?" Snape said, and Harry practiced a look of dumb incomprehension for several seconds, before a light of realization dawned.
"Sorry, Sir Snape."
"That will be three detentions for your cheek." Snape said, whirling back to his desk.
I can't tell if he really is an absolute, cheerless bastard, or if it's really just all an act.
Harry wasn't especially slow at leaving Potions that day, but he wasn't the first out... and most of the class was headed towards Divination or Muggle Studies. So, as he nearly stepped out of the Potions classroom, he wasn't surprised that Malfoy and Hermione Granger were standing by themselves in the hallway.
No, the wonder was that they were managing to speak, if in only slightly incivil tones.
"You know he's just playing with you, Granger." Malfoy's cultured drawl said.
"Oh? Who would that be?" Hermione Granger said, and Harry didn't need to be looking at her face to see her pointed gaze.
"Snape." Draco drawled, "You can't possibly think he's actually going to give you extra credit."
Harry heard a gentle snort, and pictured Hermione smirking, as she said, "Of course he's scheming," Hermione said cuttingly, "That's what you Slytherins do."
"Then why play along, if you're just going to wind up looking the fool?" Draco drawled, "Not that I would mind seeing the Smartest Witch of Her Age fall flat on her face."
Hermione stomped her foot, saying, "It's a simple enough request, Malfoy." And then she took a deep breath (Harry could hear it), "Besides, it's just school. There's a limit to what he can do, isn't there?" And that last sentence was a bit more confrontational than it should have been - than a person would be when it was just a Professor they were talking about.
Snape moved past Harry, his robes leaving a breeze behind, as he strode towards the two arguing students, "I believe you have classes to attend?"
Harry was quickly out of Snape's classroom, before he turned around, even, let alone before Snape returned.
*Did you get how implausible Snape's presence was?
**If only I could fly (from Orm and Cheep)