Chapter Seventeen

"WAKE UP!"

"Argh!"

Harry awoke with a start, and promptly fell out of bed.

"Oh, Merlin," he groaned, "why, Ronnie? Why?"

Ronnie flourished a piece of parchment with a grin.

"I've finished the sonnet I wrote for Jarred," she said happily.

Harry moaned and covered his eyes with one arm.

Ronnie cleared her throat, apparently oblivious to her friend's discomfort, and began reading her poem out loud.

"Oh Jarred, you gorgeous squid,

You are big and kind of red,

It's such a pity I'm just a kid,

For if it weren't illegal, I'd share your bed.

I like you a lot, Jarred my dear,

And your house underwater,

In the lake, oh so clear,

Maybe one day we will have a daughter.

After, of course, our honeymoon to Madrid,

And other exotic places,

We'd be wife and squid,

Which has only been recorded in five cases.

But still Jarred, I really do love you,

And all the things I said I would, I'd do."

Ronnie beamed at Harry, who was still lying on the floor.

"Well," she said, "what do you think?"

"Kill me now," mumbled Harry.

"What?" said Ronnie.

"I said 'Holy Cow'!" said Harry, loud enough so that Ronnie could hear him this time. "That was great!"

"Thankyou!" said Ronnie as she skipped joyfully from the dormitory.

"I hate my life," moaned Harry.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table with his head in his hands. After Ronnie and her sonnet had left the dormitory, Harry had discovered that it had only been half four. Consequently, The-Boy-Who-Lived currently resembled Inferni.

Harry groaned pathetically, hoping to extract a semblance of sympathy from his friends.

Unfortunately, Draco was currently attending a 'Young-Former-Future-Followers-Of-'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named'' Club meeting and so no sympathy was forthcoming.

"I can't take it anymore," he muttered to Colin Creevy, who immediately looked very interested in furthering the conversation, "if Ronnie reads me another sonnet I'm going to feed myself to Professor Sprout's Child Consuming Chrysanthemums."

Colin nodded sadly.

"I totally know, like, what you're going through," he said.

Harry sighed.

"I mean, I'm happy for her and everything, but she's no Shakespeare, and I think she's taking this all a little too far. The most I ever wrote for Draco was an acrostic poem. Does that make me inconsiderate?"

Colin shook his dyed-black hair.

"No way,"

Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Please, Lord," he said, "what should I do? Give me a sign!"

There was a poignant pause.

"This juice tastes funny," said Hermione.

It was another week until anything other than soppy romantic interludes happened. Dumbledore tapped his glass to signal for quiet at the end of dinner one night and twirled his beard happily.

"We're going to hold a Ball!" he declared.

The students immediately began to gossip excitedly.

"It will be held on the evening of October 31st and will be fancy dress! Won't this be fun!"

A first year in a plaid hat and tweed coat raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr Holmes?" smiled Albus. "Do you have a question?"

The boy nodded.

"Why are we doing this?"

Dumbledore shrugged.

"Shits and giggles, I suppose."

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stumbled towards the Transfiguration classroom. He had spent the larger part of the previous night being forced to comment on the set of 14 surrealist oil paintings Ronnie had created for Jarred - all of them of the squid in question.

In Harry's opinion, however, most resembled little more than large red blobs.

Then, when he had finally been permitted to leave for bed, he had been woken up for an impromptu interview by Luna Lovegood and River Tam, who insisted that 2.45 am was the best time of the day for thought clarity. Apparently the two girls were planning to publish a school newspaper, so Harry had spent the wee hours of the morning answering obscure questions such as 'Mayonnaise: White or Off-White?" and "How many breeds of caterpillars are you acquainted with?" only to discover at breakfast that it was Toast Appreciation Day and that Draco was quarantined in the Hospital Wing after contracting Dragon Pox overnight.

Harry then discovered, after all his classmates had left the Great Hall, that he had lost his timetable and thus had to guess what class he had first.

Transfiguration had seems like a reasonable choice as his book bag contained his Transfiguration textbook and, amazingly, his completed Transfiguration homework.

Harry hoisted his bag back up onto his shoulder as he reached the classroom, wondering if he could possibly nap in any of his classes, and pushed open the door.

"ARRRRGH! OH MERLIN! WHY ME?!"

Harry's cry reverberated around the room as his bag fell from his shoulder, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Still, screaming, the boy shielded his eyes and ran from the room.

Professor Dumbledore looked up from where he was bending Professor McGonagall over her desk and gave a Level Four Eye Twinkle.

"Dear me," he said, "you'd think from the way he's carrying on that he'd never seen the Spread Eagle before."

"There, there," said Professor Snape, "it couldn't have been that bad."

Harry only shuddered in response.

"At least take the blindfold off," coaxed his father, "there's nothing scary in here."

"Except for the headless iguana in the jar above the fireplace," muttered Harry, but removed the black cloth from his eyes nonetheless. Hermione then chose that moment to make her entrance.

Harry shrieked and hastily replaced the cloth over his eyes.

"Great Merlin!" exclaimed Snape.

"You like?" beamed Hermione.

Severus began to stammer incomprehensively.

"What is it?" moaned Harry.

"Hotpants!" Hermione replied cheerily. "Don't y'all think I look like Daisy Duke?"

Severus went completely silent.

"It's hailing outside," said Harry, "it's cold."

Hermione flicked her hair and huffed.

"Y'all just don't understand fashion," she said.

"Y'all?" mumbled Severus in apparent confusion.

"So, er, have you found your ring yet?" asked Harry, hoping for a more comfortable conversation topic.

"No," said Hermione sadly, "not yet."

"It'll show up," said Harry, readjusting his blindfold as he spoke.

Hermione sniffed pathetically.

"I hope so," she moaned.

Severus suddenly scowled.

"Miss Granger? What in Merlin's name are you –"

"Time for your anti-psychotic!" broke in Hermione, as she poured a small phial of liquid down Snape's throat.

Severus started smiling again.

"I love you, Hermione," he said dreamily.

"I love you too, Sevvy-Wevvy," replied Hermione.

"I'm gonna go stab myself in the eye with a fork," said Harry.

And, receiving no discouragement from either professor, he left.