The next morning, Harry came down to breakfast feeling, well, energetic. Bruised, a bit, battered, certainly, but energetic, too. 'Runs' did that to him.
He sat down and started piling his plate with pancakes. Looking up, as Hermione and Ron sat down (they were still bickering, but they always bickered), he frowned. "Has anyone seen Neville?" Normally, Harry wouldn't care too much, but these days... Even at Hogwarts, folks were in danger.
"Haven't seen him," Hermione said, with a frown of her own.
Dean spoke up from down the table, "He's been excused from classes. Said he'd take my notes."
Hermione sniffed, "I really don't see why he didn't ask me."
Seamus said, "Probably thought you were too busy, giving notes to these ingrates."
"Hey!" Ron said.
Harry just ducked, and then said quietly, "I resent that."
Lavender Brown, who liked potions, said, "Have you done your Potions Homework yet?"
Harry's face fell further. "Shite... Hermione-" He turned pleading eyes towards his friend.
Unlike normal, Hermione had her arms crossed, "Harry Potter, what in the hell have you been doing that you can't even be bothered to try your homework?"
Harry flushed, "There's a list." Frowning, he thought, "Detention, for a lot of it. Defense - and you know," He said, with a sparkle in his eye.
"You're going to do your homework next week, if I have to drag you there." Hermione ground out.
"You're the best, Hermione!" Harry said, not the least because Hermione always pulled double the books she'd need for the assignment, so Harry didn't have to figure out the library in addition to doing his homework.
Frantically, Harry started to copy, knowing he was probably only going to get half of the assigned length- he pulled out his own book to cross-reference, then threw it donw, and dug through Hermione's backpack, "Hey! Those are my library Books!"
"Sorry, I'll put them back... in juuust a minute." Harry said, frantically reading bits and pieces that he could weave together into something approaching coherency.
The rest of Harry's day, other than trying to survive potions, was spent dodging girls. Apparently they'd all, together, decided on an all out charm offensive. Harry spat, he kicked, he screamed; but they still grabbed him up, one by one, trying to corner him - why didn't girls understand how much he hated to be pinned down? It reminded him of the graveyard, for god's sake! So NOT Romantic!
By the end of the day, he'd managed to hold it together so that no one was bawling their eyes out at his rudeness. (He'd been plenty rude, but his temper hadn't blown. Small mercies).
Harry Potter found himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Again. This time he just wanted to unravel what he was feeling about Sirius Black. He was perhaps the person Harry'd least expected to tell him about Snape's friendships -at least with Gryffindors.
That didn't mean he wasn't still upset, but he was more upset about EVERYTHING and not about something in particular. He was upset at Sirius for getting himself killed, upset at Harry Potter for letting himself get tricked by a Slytherin mind (hadn't Ron said that Slytherins always lied?). He was upset at Snape for goading Sirius into stupidity. And at Snape for pushing at Harry's own guilt, and approving of it.
Yes, he had to learn, had to get better. Not that he was doing a good job of showing it, now was he? Your curiosity is going to get someone killed.
God, he hoped that didn't happen.
Harry promised himself he'd learn. No more. He'd developed quite a habit of poking around after Slytherins. Why did he even need to learn their plans? Dumbledore always seemed to know everything, and Snape was a bloody teacher and Head of House. That meant he had Dumbledore's respect... and TRUST.
Harry's eyes flicked back to Sirius, seeing those brilliant eyes flashing with merriment, his hair - coal black as his name- fluttering in the breeze.
Why couldn't you have been who I thought you were?
Because Sirius had been a bully, and just because Snape was now capable of taking care of himself (and how!), didn't mean that Sirius had stopped. Not that Snape wasn't trying to score points either.
Harry Potter had found the whole thing frustrating (and, truthfully, a bit scary) at the time, and now it only felt worse.
Harry'd wanted a dad, wanted someone he could count on, someone who, most importantly, could get him out of the Dursleys' cold clutches. Harry'd never felt despair quite like being kept in that house after Sirius had died. Headquarters may have been gloomy, but... It wasn't at all the same.
Sirius had died for nothing.
And Harry had to live with that. Sitting down in the center of the roof, he bowed his head over his knees, and cried. Unnoticed by Harry, the lily he was wearing had turned black.
Harry let the excitement of the day wash over him, biting the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. It was fun, for once, to take a real break, and have a true Halloween Ball. Oh, sure, the youngest kids were still at the Feast, but the older kids got to dance. And someone always tried to sneak some liquor into the punch. Not that it generally worked - and if so, certainly not for long, but it was a gas pretending that it had.
Harry grinned, thinking of last year, and all the pranks the Twins had told him about from earlier years. Unseen by him, his lily was pure grass green, just a shade lighter than his eyes.
Odd thing though, Neville still wasn't down at breakfast. "Should you be worried?" Harry asked Hermione, leaning into her.
"Of course not," Hermione said, making an o with her thumb and fingers, and then tapping the pulse point at her wrist.
Draco Malfoy's eyes narrowed, the whole way across the room in the Great Hall. Since when did Gryffindors have secret call signs?
Draco wasn't the only one who'd noticed that Longbottom was gone. Goyle said gruffly, "Figure he's gone off to cry, too scared to get a date?"
Draco just shrugged. Now that he looked, there were other people missing. Lovegood. Finnegan. That made an odd combination, in truth.
"Something's happening," Draco Malfoy said, gritting his teeth, "And I'd like to know what." Nott caught his eye, across the table, and nodded. Nott was always the quiet one, so few people really suspected just how much mischief he got into on a regular basis. Perhaps the Twins had figured it out, but they guarded secrets like dragons guarded gold.
Harry was out by the Black Lake, skipping stones across the water. Ginny Weasley hoofed up, huffing at the unplanned exertion. "What's up, Potter?" she asked.
Harry just shrugged. "Gotta dance. Your date ready?"
"Suppose so," Gin said, shrugging.
Harry turned his eyes on her, as usual, flame red hair. It was, as usual, utterly gorgeous. "Just remember at the dance... I'm not gay, Gin."
Ginny started to laugh, and laugh, "Oh, god, I thought you were gonna pull a Ron there!" Her laughter, bright and cheery, continued. Ginny leaned up close to him, and asked, "What deviltry are you planning!"
"No deviltry at all, ma'am" Harry said, "I'll be the perfect gentleman."
"Oh, will you." Ginny grinned, "Are you going with Neville? Tell me it's Neville!"
"Better." Harry said, no longer fighting the grin.
Ginny squealed. "This is going to be SO much fun! Vane won't know what to do with herself!"
Harry grinned back, and went back to skipping stones, as Ginny ran off to be girly with her girly friends.
Harry Potter had to ask Hermione to help him get dressed. He didn't own any decent muggle clothes, and he wanted to kick this up a notch. How better to stick it in the eye of those prejudiced assholes? Hermione had smiled at what he was planning, anyway - not that he'd told her who he was going with. He just gave her a grin, and said "It's a surprise."
Which, of course, got "Harry James Potter, you know how I hate surprises."
"You'll like this one," Harry said, with a grin. Honestly, he wasn't sure she would. But he wasn't telling her beforehand for the world. If she didn't somehow transfigure this into some sort of display of InterHouse Relations, she'd lecture his ear off. Now, Hermione was Harry's friend, so he'd let her - he just wanted to have Done Something Wrong, first.
Harry knew where Draco Malfoy would be coming up to the Dance, so he found a decently hidden alcove and watched... well, everyone else. For his eyes sake, it was a good thing that nobody wanted to snog before the dance. They might have run straight into him. And wouldn't that have made a lovely mess?
Quick as a Snitch, Harry grabbed Draco Malfoy's arrogant hand, as he strutted arrogantly towards the Dance Hall. (Had Draco actually been walking at speed, the maneuver wouldn't have worked, but when did Malfoy ever not strut?)
Draco's grey eyes widened as they found themselves staring into Harry Potter's green eyes.
"Ready, lover-boy," Harry Potter said with a grin.
"Always. And look, my partner's managed to not look like a refugee." Draco Malfoy said, withi his drawl. His eyes sparkled with humor, though.
"The old," Harry said, gesturing to Draco Malfoy's fine Wizarding robes, "And the new," He said, gesturing to his own.
"Nouveau riche is the term." Draco Malfoy said with a sneer, as they started to move.
"Only if you're French. Self-made man's the Americanism." Harry Potter said with a smile.
"And what has possibly possessed you to think that I've ever encountered such a strange breed of person? An American!" Draco Malfoy spouted, sounding entirely too pompous - and unbelievable to boot.
Harry, who wanted to crack up laughing, simply directed a 'loving' smile towards the blond.
They kept up the chatter, starting a lively debate about whether Muggles or Americans were more uncouth - Draco was sure it had to be Americans, but Harry thought that half the Wizarding customs had to do with magic, and, well, when you haven't got any, you're bound to break a few rules. Or, you know, the rulebook. It was one of those lively debates that Harry remembered from getting drunk after Quiddich matches, fresh from the adrenaline high of victory.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy entered the Halloween Ball arm in arm, one in the finest of robes, and one in muggle regalia*
Conversations died, in a long, slow ripple, as people caught sight of them. Even the music stopped. Couples would turn to see, and Harry Potter thought he heard a girlish squeal. He hadn't seen any of his friends yet, and he was vaguely starting to worry.
Everyone heard the falling glass.
Harry, who'd kept his face straight the whole time, said, "How appropriate. We should always remember sadness in the midst of great joy. Now let's Smile and Dance!" Harry was fairly certain that the musicians had merely picked up on their cue, not that they were listening to the Chosen One order them around.
"I'll lead," Draco Malfoy said, as he put his hand on Harry's hip, the other on his shoulder.
"I don't know how to follow." Harry Potter said.
"That's why I'm leading," Draco Malfoy said, sounding cross. "Now watch my feet, do as they do, and don't step on them."
Harry'd never felt anything like it, to be honest. Draco had actually spent years learning to dance. He made it look easy. Stranger still, he made Harry Potter look good. It was all in the cueing, the hand gently turning Harry...
Snape stormed up to them, and from the look in his eye, was only barely restraining himself from grabbing them both by the scruffs of their necks, and then hanging them out the window. "What is the meaning of this?" Snape hissed, and even if no one else could hear over the music, Harry knew they were getting curious stares. "And don't give me that lie that you've fallen for each other. I know perfectly well you're both straight." Harry's mind halted at that thought, because he really, really didn't need to know how Snape knew that. Of course, having found such a distressing thought, his brain wanted to fixate on it. Entirely counterproductive, really.
Draco Malfoy had his mouth open, no doubt to say something smarmy and deflecting, when Snape loomed over them both, his long-fingered hands planted between their shoulder-blades, as his face pressed forward. "Is this some sort of political statement?" Draco Malfoy's face tried to pale, but -of course- he was naturally very near an albino, so it didn't so much turn paler as turn blue.
Harry Potter, for similar but very different reasons, blaunched. He knew better than to speak-
Draco Malfoy, however, hadn't learned that lesson. Chastened, he said, "No, sir."
Snape's voice cut like a serrated knife, leaving wounds that wouldn't mend, as he very softly said, "Do you have any idea what your father will do, if he learns of this - this prank?"
"Please, sir," Harry said, "I hadn't realized..." Harry immediately wanted to call the words back - what was he doing, standing in front of Draco when Snape was in a temper? Snape actually liked Draco. Stupid Gryffindor Impulses.
At nearly the same time, Draco Malfoy said, "I lost a bet, sir. This was the price."
Looking down at his feet, Harry Potter said, softly, "I figured the girls would stop chasing us if they thought we weren't interested,"
"You will excuse me, while I go catch some miscreants before they send this to the Daily Prophet," Snape snarled, striding off with his robes swirling behind.
Draco Malfoy still seemed frozen, but he found his voice enough to say, "He means Parkinson and Creevy."
"Parkinson? But isn't she one of your friends?" Harry Potter said.
"Doesn't mean she doesn't want to be a reporter." Draco Malfoy smirked, weakly, "And I have to admit, this is news."
"Creevy will take pictures of anything. He'll take triples if it's of me, though," Harry Potter sighed.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Malfoy said, "Snape's word is solid."
From the Great Hall, where the younger students were having their Feast, came the Scottish cry, "They did WHAT?" The entire dance listened to McGonagall's cackling laughter.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had taken a turn, and then two on the dance floor - as the next song came on, it was a polka. "I don't know how to dance this." Harry admitted.
"Just follow me," Draco Malfoy said, his breath warm on Harry's ear. "Jump!" Draco said, and the sprightly music began to sparkle around them. Harry had hold of Cho Chang beside him, and Draco was holding onto Sue Bones. But it'd seemed the entire room had joined - even Ron, who hated dancing above most things.
At the end of the dance, Harry announced cheerfully, "I need a drink!"
"Second that," Draco Malfoy said firmly, and they both headed over to the drinks table. Of course, if they hadn't been so loud and overt about it, Harry thought, they might have been able to dodge Pansy Parkinson.
"Dra-co honey, why didn't you tell me? A bet's a bet, and you know I wouldn't want to make trouble." Pansy Parkinson said in a sultry voice.
"You're always trouble, Pans. I see you coming." Draco Malfoy smirked.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't have been about to send a letter off to your father, if I'd known why you did it." Pansy sniffed.
"You wouldn't send a damn thing to my father, and we both know it. You'd have sent it to the Prophet, and let all the chips fall where they may."
"True enough. Still should have told me, though."
"Didn't think this one through enough, I suppose," Harry put in, looking a bit chagrined.
Pansy let out a light sigh, and pouted a bit, "I'll take care of it. But you owe me."
"Always, Pans, always. Since the time I smashed a dragon on your head and sent you unconscious." Draco Malfoy said. Harry Potter just stared, eyes wide.
As Pansy sashayed off, Ron and Hermione came over, "Mate! This was the best prank ever!" Ron said affably.
Draco Malfoy said, voice like ice, "Well if it isn't the Weasel, come to pretend that he knew it all along."
Ron shot Draco Malfoy a surprisingly civil glare, "I like to think my best friend would have told me if he was going to date his mortal enemy."
Harry Potter just started cracking up laughing, "Mortal enemy? Draco Malfoy?! Try Voldemort."
Draco Malfoy tried to hide the bright sensation of pain, but Ron's steady, considering eyes on him said he'd failed. Draco met Ron's with a confrontational glare.
"Just so you know where you stand." Ron Weasley said heavily.
"Bet it gets the birds off my back, though," Harry said, "Bright side to everything, even losing a bet." Harry was hoping that Malfoy would know better than to correct him.
Suddenly, the music stopped. As if someone had cut the strings. Harry's brief glance towards the musicians showed them stopping playing after they had been silenced.
The dance floor was filled with people in circles, now starting to shift uneasily and almost break up.
A bright spot of light suddenly illuminated the center of the dance floor. Neville Longbottom stood there, with Luna on one side, carrying a harp, and Finnegan on the other side, with a bohdrin.
The people on the dance floor turned to them, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
Neville opened his mouth and sang:
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
Will you bring them smiles and good cheer,
Or will you quake with fear?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
When it's time to bend the knee or fight
Will you do what's right?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
When there's nothing to do but scream
It won't be just a silly dream...
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
Death Eaters at the door, are you listening?
It wasn't a minor key, nor was it a major one, wandering between jangly notes. Finnegan's soft drum didn't overwhelm Longbottom's voice, and Luna's golden harp made glistening bridges of notes, that she let collapse again and again.
Harry's eyes flashed at Dumbledore, whose eyes seemed delighted... and surprised. "Thank you very much for that, I always encourage creativity from our students..." Dumbledore pulled at his beard, "I daresay this is more relevant than the Frog Chorus." The Headmaster canceled the silencing charm around the band, and gestured for them to start.
Harry turned towards Draco, only to realize that he'd disappeared. So had all the Slytherins, really. The mood of the crowd had soured, and was uneasy to boot. Harry didn't mind them leaving, not really. He well knew the dangers of a crowd of scared people. This lot wouldn't need pitchforks, either, magic being what it was.
Harry sidled through the mostly Gryffindor and Hufflepuff crowd around Neville, "Where'd you get the brilliant idea to do that?"
Neville smiled back at Harry and made that o-shape with his hand, and then tapped on his wrist, "Dumbledore, I think."
Harry's eyes narrowed, as he deliberately set them on his own feet. No, he trusted that Dumbledore wouldn't have looked surprised, unless he truly was. Trouble was, who in the order knew music of all things? Maybe Arabella Figg? But no, she wasn't. musically inclined, either. And Luna would have simply told Neville she came up with it.
Which left Snape. Harry's conclusion there left a bad taste in his mouth. It felt wrong to just blame the spy for anything he didn't understand. Still, Harry thought, in this case, he was right.
The rest of the dance seemed a blur. Harry'd gone up to congratulate Seamus and Nevile and Luna, but discovered that the mob was so enamoured that he'd better just wait till later. Once the Slytherins returned, Harry'd let Malfoy do most of the talking, as he was more skilled with lying. He'd said variously to different people, that "They'd done this for a laugh", to a smirky "Dating for ages," to a standoffish "I didn't come with him," (which was hilarious, as Goyle and Crabbe didn't want to actually vocally disagree with Malfoy). Harry just knew the gossips would be staying up late for days trying to figure Draco Malfoy out.
"Best Date I've had at Hogwarts," Harry said firmly.
"Huh. What do you know. Me too." Draco Malfoy said, slightly flummoxed.
"What, you didn't like Pansy at Yule?" Harry said.
"She wore pink. And called me Drakey-poo." Draco Malfoy said. "It was entirely undignified."
"So why'd you ask her then?" Harry responded.
"Who says I did?" Malfoy shot icily back.
"Don't tell me, your parents arranged it." Harry said, sounding a bit chagrined.
"No, she asked me. In her very skilled, "I know what's best for you" voice," Draco Malfoy said, sounding the slightest bit put out, "I didn't have my eye on anyone, so... why not?" Draco's chagrined smile told it all, as he said, "She explained why not, at quite some length. I know I left the dance before you did."
Harry nodded, "Yeah, because at least I'd gone with someone I could stand."
"I love Pansy," Draco Malfoy said, and at Harry's wide-eyed face, snorted, "Not like that. She's a great friend. Bad date though, at least for me."
"I heard that, Draco Malfoy," Pansy said. "You Tricked me tonight! You owe me!" By this point, Pansy'd managed to grab Draco's arm. "Downstairs, now!" Pansy snapped, "You're going to finish the five inches of Potions that I can't be bothered to write." Her blueeyed look certainly put the lie to 'can't be bothered.' as she was clearly bothered by this.
"No goodbye kiss, Potter?" Malfoy said, a challenging gleam in his eye.
"You're on," Harry growled, having just a split second to see Malfoy's eyes bug out, before he was kissing the other boy. Not that Harry liked Draco or anything (though he was possibly able to stand him, for short periods of time). And then Harry daringly slid his tongue between his lips, licking demandingly at the point where Draco's lips pressed together. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, and Harry wrapped his hands around the small of Draco's back. And then they were frenching.
As they pulled apart - both struggling to catch their breath - more because they had somehow construed the challenge to be "kiss for as long as possible" than any sort of arousal.
"I still don't like you, Malfoy," Harry ground out.
"Same here," Malfoy said.
Harry Potter knew something was up, as he headed down into the Common Room. Neville was there, as was Ron, and Hermione and Seamus - and Ginny. They were looking at him like they expected him.
"Sit down, Harry," Neville asked. No, demanded. And, this being Neville, he never demanded a damn thing out of anyone.
Harry sat.
"Harry, we just wanted to let you know it's okay to like boys." Neville said, looking perfectly serious.
Ron spoke up next, "Yeah, mate, you don't need to pretend."
Hermione, wringing her hands, blurted out, "It's not like the Muggle world at all! It's actually mostly accepted here."
Harry's mouth had dropped open somewhere during this, and - shocked, he blurted out, "I'm not gay." These were his friends, his... family. Did they really think he'd been hiding something that important? Lying to everyone? Lil' Harry who couldn't tell a lie without it being fucking transparent?
At which point the entire room started laughing. "Of course we know that, mate," Neville said, with a broad shit-eating grin on his face. "Just takin' the Mickey out on ya."
And with that, Harry could breathe again.
Harry spent most of the day in the library. Or rather, he would've, if he hadn't been mobbed by girls... and boys. Mostly younger than him, which didn't help his temper. He couldn't shout at them... not in the library. So he'd found himself in an abandoned classroom on the eighth floor (where Hogwarts was notorious about changing things around, he hoped he'd be able to get out cleanly), reading about Potions. Reading a lot about Potions, because this time he wasn't mooching off Hermione, and he finally had time to just ... follow the threads. Hermione always had the threads all tied up already, which made it easy to copy, but hard to understand. Because you had to know the Arithmantic and Runic significance of bubotuber pus to really get why you needed to add it after the jujuber beetles.
As Harry finished his Potions homework, he rather abruptly realized that he'd forgotten to do Snape's other homework. Truths, ones that his best friends knew. Harry wrote them, not lying a whit, and discovering as he wrote them, that Snape really knew more about Harry's life than he thought the poor bastard did. Snape, after all, had caught them after the Flying Car incident. Had been there when Harry met Sirius for the first time... Harry wrote, and wrote, discovering that fifty things that his friends knew about him was a rather quick thing to write.
Having Snape for multiple classes was turning out to be a beast.
As Harry Potter sat down to Dinner, Ron, his mouth still full, asked Harry, "Mrm bou Quiddich?"
Harry looked over and said, "Beg pardon?"
Ron swallowed and said, "When are you holding Quiddich practice?"
Harry rather abruptly remembered that he'd gotten the Quiddich captain's badge before the start of the year. "I'm not. Suppose I'd better go turn the badge in."
Ron stood up, leaning with his full height over Harry, "You can't quit Quddich? How will we win?"
Harry smirked, "Ginny Weasley's a fine Seeker. You just have to ask."
Ginny spoke up, "Thank you, Harry!"
Harry wasn't at all surprised to find Draco Malfoy watching, keenly. The Slytherin captain had, seemingly, less on his mind than Harry.
*It's just a suit. But try telling the purebloods what the difference between black tie and white tie is. They still believe in being "dressed" (Which is 1700's terminology, and people were perfectly happy to receive guests undressed - as in, in a simple tunic or nightdress. Well, at least Ben Franklin was, but we all know he was a born Hellraiser, and spun Simple American into a woman's fantasy.)