XXIII

One's social life was rather like a tapestry, Dorathea realized as she left Narcissa Malfoy an hour later. You had to keep track of dozens of different threads- watching carefully for signs of weakness to correct or possible tangles to prevent. One slipped thread could ruin an entire cloth. But if you were skilled enough with your weaving, what a tapestry you could make!

The familiar imagery gave Dorathea a heart and she headed towards the Ravenclaw tower with greater energy. Right now, she needed to make sure that the errant thread of Draco was safely woven back into the cloth before he took it into his head to enact any more ridiculous decrees. She would also have to think about how to smooth the snarl of Pansy Parkinson before it became a knot that undid all her work. Not to mention finding a way to weave herself into the Ravenclaw social circle, unravel the perception that Notes were dark and find a way to spin out new alliances for Theo-

Dorathea sighed as she climbed the stairs to the tower, heart heavy and head spinning. Harry had never considered these things before, she realized sadly. Harry never even realized there was a world outside of Hogwarts or that decade old decisions could have lasting consequences on your actions even until today. Harry never-

"Oi! Harry!"

Dorathea froze on the stairs- half turning to respond. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the familiar voice called out the no longer familiar name. The only surprise that stayed her motion and gave her mind the time to catch up. Dorathea Nott could absolutely not be seen responding to the name of Harry Potter. Not if some clever someone might be around to witness the exchange. It wouldn't take much, Dorathea worried, to put a sudden appearance and sudden disappearance together.

Deliberately and feeling as though she was walking through a harsh wind, Dorathea took a step forward. And then another. Until she was able to turn down the corner from the well-traveled corridor into a little used antechamber featuring a beautiful tapestry of a centaur harvesting mistletoe. She let her fingertips rest on the finely woven cloth and took comfort in the familiar swell of magic before turning to confront the figure who followed her into the room.

"Ron- I can not believe-" She began through clenched teeth, but her oldest friend cut her off with a furious question.

"Is it true? Are the rumors true?"

"What?" Dorothea's own anger was momentarily deflected by the confusion and dread. It had been mere hours since rumors of the duel had circled through the school. Certainly, nothing else could come out in that time to make her the subject of the Hogwarts gossip mill. Again. "What rumors, Ron?"

"That you are marrying Malfoy!"

Then she laughed- relief flooding into the tips of her fingers. Oh, thank Merlin. Thank Nimune. She had forgotten that her Gryffindor friends were notoriously bad at keeping an ear to the gossip on the ground. Hermione didn't believe in listening to popular opinion and Ron's knowledge was filtered through his brothers she'd realized. Harry, of course, had relied on his two friends for all other information. Had she been wearing Harry's shoes, Dorathea wondered, would she have even known about the marriage proposal and duel? Would she have cared? Probably not.

Ron was waiting for her answer, so she took her friend's hands in hers and gave them a quick, thankful squeeze, "No. Thank goodness. It was a simple misunderstanding," She lied. Ron might have a quick and subtle mind while sitting at the chess board, but rehashing the intricacies of her current social fabric sounded exhausting. Especially since she had the sinking intuition that Ron would dismiss the details out of hand.

"Oh. That's good." Ron said, his voice sounding a little strangled as he kept his eyes fixed on their clasped hands. A faint blush had risen on his cheeks which clashed terribly with the flame of his hair. "Look. Harry. Or - whatever. Bloody hell-"

Her friend extracted his hands from hers and stepped away, looking faintly green about the gills. He took a deep breath, as though centering himself, and then went down on one knee. "Why don't you marry me?"

"What?" Dorothea stared at Ron- Ron!- in absolute consternation for a quick second. This was Ronald Weasley. Her first friend. Harry's best friend. She knew he talked with his mouth full and plastered stickers of quidditch players on all his notebooks and snored so loudly after eating ice cream that Harry sometimes wished for earplugs. But he was also the most loyal friend she knew, horribly dedicated to his family, and perfect when you'd been backed into a corner. She also had a flicker of intuition that he'd be wonderful with kids. Plus, the Weasleys were a dedicated light family. Who could call the Notts a dark family if they were married to one of the most progressive, staunchest Dumbledore supporters in their world? On the other hand, society still considered them blood traitors and, as Harry had seen that summer, they were locked in a feud with the Malfoys. It would be a slap in the face to both Draco and Lady Malfoy to immediately enter into a betrothal with their greatest rivals, especially so soon after receiving an apology bracelet.

No, it was better not to agree. Dorathea sighed and tugged on the ribbon in her hair. There was one more thing Harry had never had to worry about! How could she turn Ron down without insulting him? Maybe she should have asked Lady Malfoy for tips; the woman no doubt had had her share of admirers in her school days. But then, she hadn't expected to have received two proposals in as many days.

"Ron," She said hesitantly, "You are my first and oldest friend-"

"Oh, shut it," Ron said. As he shoved himself up off the floor, his blush deepened, highlighting the clash with his hair and red sweater even more. "It was a dumb idea. I was just trying to help out a bit, you know. Take you off the market until - I mean, the Weasleys are pureblood. And part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. So it wouldn't be as weird as if Hermione tried."

He lifted a shoulder in embarrassed confusion and fell silent. Dorothea frowned lightly. The Weasleys were pureblood, that much was true. But how could they be part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? Those nearly thirty families could not only boast of magical grandparents but could trace their lineage back to the time of Arthur without once mixing a less-than-pureblood spouse into their line. Why wouldn't such a light-aligned family have married at least one muggle-born throughout the generations?

Ah, but that was a question for another day. Right now, she had an embarrassed friend to soothe. "I appreciate the thought," Dorathea said earnestly, keeping her hands to herself this time. "I really do, Ron. It's just that the more I learn about pureblood courtship the more scared I am to make a misstep. Yesterday, I wore my hair the wrong way and half the school thought I was engaged to Draco. If I accept your proposal…" She gave a faint smile to underline the ridiculousness of the situation, but Ron didn't return it.

"Right." He shoved his hands irritatedly into his pockets and glared at the floor. "You've made your point. It was a dumb idea. Especially when you turn back to Harry. Magic's weird; we could have still been engaged." He gave a shudder that seemed unnecessarily exaggerated. After all, Harry could do a lot worse than end up engaged to Ron. No, what sent an echoing shudder through Dorothea was the reminder that in a few short months she'd have to return to Harry's life and leave this one behind. It didn't give her much time to untangle all the knots.

"Ron… about that." She plucked at the edge of her skirt as she was unable to quite look the Gryffindor in the eye. Ron wouldn't like hearing this, but it needed to be said. "You can't call me Harry right now. If people put two and two together? Who knows what people would do to me or - to anyone- if they knew."

"Right," Ron repeated. The anger in his voice was sharper now. "Yeah, it would be horrible if your new pals found out who you really were. Bet Nott and Malfoy wouldn't be quite so keen to hang around Harry Potter."

"Ron-" Dorothea started, but the Gryffindor cut her off.

"I never see you!" Ron said. "You were supposed to be in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw. But you sit with the Slytherins at lunch and the Ravenclaws in all your classes. I've tried to talk to you twice- but you've been so surrounded by other people I can't get close. And with Hermione still in the hospital wing -"

The mention of Hermione's location sent a pang of concern through Dorathea's chest, followed by a stab of guilt. How could she have forgotten her friend like this? True, her life was stupidly busy, but Hermione had suffered even worse than Dorothea from the poly juice.

"Is Hermione ok?" She asked when Ron took a breath to continue his rant. A flash of hurt flickered across his face before the animating anger drained away, leaving him looking slumped and tired.

"Maybe you should ask her." He said, turning towards the door. "I haven't seen your name once on the visiting logs, you know. And I go every day to see her."

"I…" Dorathea didn't even have a good excuse. It had been two days? She'd been busy? Hermione hadn't really reacted the last few times she'd sat beside her bed. None of those mattered, not really. Hermione had been one of Harry's best friends and Dorothea owed it to her past self to maintain his friendships. Or at least not destroy them. "I'm sorry. I'll go see her today. And maybe we can have breakfast tomorrow?"

Ron looked a little mollified and gave her a stiff nod. "Right. Well. Good. Don't forget who your real friends are."