Chapter Five

It was the seventh time Ron had taken the Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts, but he'd never been more grateful for the train to arrive in Hogsmeade station. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief as he waited for the doors to open. The journey had started out so well. He'd managed to get Harry on the train without any fuss, and he'd found an empty compartment in the section where the little kiddies sat.

The peace and quiet hadn't lasted, and truthfully, he hadn't expected it to. As soon as Hermione had left, he'd known he was doomed.

He'd managed to drag Harry away from Parvati for all of a few minutes, so they could change into robes. Harry had thrown the robes over his shoulders and burst back into the compartment, jumping on a half-naked Parvati. She hadn't cared that her robes were riding above her caramel thighs, dangerously close to showing everything that teenage boys could only dream about. Only a lacy purple thong had hidden her modesty – barely.

The rain was lashing it down in Hogsmeade, swirling in the roaring wind and slapping against the train. Ron wondered where Hermione was and if she'd looked for him. Right now, he'd never wanted her more. If he closed his eyes he could just imagine her body wrapped around his, as they fell asleep on cotton sheets, listening to the thunderstorm raging outside.

Ron's daydream was soon cut short.

"I bet you fuck like a tiger, don't you?"

Harry's words drifted into his ears, and he barely suppressed a groan. It was Harry Potter – he could get away with saying things like that. If he, Ron Weasley, ever uttered something even close to that, he'd be on the receiving end of a slap, at the very least.

Parvati giggled, but it wasn't in the way he'd come to expect after hearing it for the last six years. It didn't sound childish, or even flirtatious in a teenage girl kind of way. Ron turned his head to see her, standing next to Harry, her head resting on his shoulder. They were looking directly into each other's eyes.

Lust – it made all the difference in the world.

Crushes were for schoolgirls. Lust was for grown women who knew exactly what they wanted, and Parvati knew exactly what she wanted. Before, Ron might have stepped in, might have stopped a shy Harry trying desperately to say no. Now, he knew Harry was loving every second of her attention.

The doors slid open and they ran to the Thestral-drawn carriages, their footsteps splashing in deep puddles, spraying muddy water over fresh robes. Harry and Parvati ran hand-in-hand next to Ron, and were the first ones to enter the cover of the carriage. Ron slipped in after Harry, shaking his head as he saw they were kissing once more.

Seamus jumped in, followed by Dean, and then Lavender and Padma joined them. They all ignored Harry and Parvati, for the most part.

"Still going strong, are they?" said Seamus, rolling his eyes.

Once they reached Hogwarts, they stopped kissing and climbed out of the carriage together, walking arm-in-arm to the castle. Ron trailed behind them, watching as Harry muttered something in her ear, making her laugh and give him a lingering kiss that was full of hidden promises.

"This is going to get old," muttered Ron.

They reached the Great Hall and Ron took a seat next to Harry. He and Parvati had started kissing again. Hermione had yet to enter the Hall, but Ron knew it was only a matter of time before she did. Dean, Seamus, and Lavender sat down opposite them; Padma was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey, who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Lavender wondered aloud.

Ron looked towards the staff table, surprised to find Remus sitting there. He was watching Harry with a bemused expression on his face, although he was smiling. Ron didn't have to wonder why or how he was back; he was there for Harry.

"Hey, it's Lupin," said Dean.

"Is it?" Lavender squinted. "Oh yeah. I didn't recognise him for a moment."

Ron couldn't understand how she didn't recognise a teacher she'd had for a year. It wasn't as though Remus had changed all that much since he'd taught them; he still wore threadbare robes, and though his hair was more grey nowadays, it wasn't enough to give him an entirely new look.

Hermione suddenly sat down next to Ron, muttering, "I'm so sorry, Ron. I got stuck in the meeting until we arrived at the station. I didn't realise it would take so long. Did you manage– are you all right?"

Ron swallowed thickly, suddenly finding it hard not to laugh. She'd seen the fear in his eyes, and now he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He leant back, allowing Hermione to see Harry. Her lips parted and her eyebrows jumped up her forehead.

"How on earth did that happen?" She looked at Ron accusingly. "And why didn't you stop him?"

Ron snorted. "I did try, but you know what he's like these days. I might as well have been talking to the wall."

"But … but … how did he manage it so fast?"

"He charged into the compartment and said she and Padma had to be Indian veela, because there was no other way to explain how they were so perfect." Ron wondered if Harry had meant it; the Patil twins were absolutely stunning, no doubt about it, but veela were the very essence of perfection.

Hermione's lip curled in disgust. "They believed that?"

"What do you think?"

Malfoy slipped into the Hall, obviously trying to be discreet and utterly failing. His bright blond hair stood out like a candle in a pitch black room. Ron snickered – he couldn't help it – upon noticing the way Malfoy's nose was bent across his cheek. He'd almost forgotten about that.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, "Harry punched him."

"Punched who?" demanded Hermione, her eyes widening in alarm.

Ron just nodded towards Malfoy, who had taken his seat at the Slytherin table, his back to them. He hadn't once looked in their direction.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't say anything more. Maybe it was because, at that very moment, the doors burst open. Ron, however, thought it was because she was remembering the time she had punched the git.

Snape was leading a group of terrified first years into the Hall, his black eyes daring anyone to utter a word.

Ron was horrified. "Who in their right mind would give Snape that job?"

"Someone has to do it, but it's not a job for the headmistress," said Hermione.

Harry stopped kissing Parvati and looked around. "That's Snape, is it?" he said, and his loud snort resounded off the walls. "He looks like one of those two sickle whores in Knockturn Alley."

Snape stumbled on his cloak and blotches of red appeared on his pallid cheeks. A disbelieving silence fell over the Hall, and Snape sent his most vicious glare towards Harry.

"What did you say?" His whisper carried to every corner of the room, terrifying the kids behind him.

Harry never even noticed. He'd gone back to kissing Parvati, completely missing the disgusted look on Snape's face. His already pale lips had disappeared almost entirely, and he strode up to the front of the Hall.

Ron couldn't help wondering how Harry even knew what Knockturn alley was, let alone what the whores looked like.

"Wait a second," said Hermione. "If Remus is back, who is teaching what subjects?"

"Well he's teaching Defence – obviously," said Ron, shaking his head. "Slughorn was killed, wasn't he, so Snape's gone back to his dungeon lair."

"Then who's teaching Transfiguration?" Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears. McGonagall was her favourite professor, but she was now Headmistress. "How didn't I think of this before?"

Ron didn't particularly care; Snape had no power over them anymore – not really. Yes, he had killed Dumbledore, but on the man's own orders. Everyone, including the Aurors, agreed it had actually won them the war. Snape's knowledge of when Voldemort would attack Hogsmeade had given Harry the chance to catch him off guard and win.

Thus, Snape was cleared of all charges, yet still as universally despised as ever.

"Adams, Charles," said Snape, making the name sound like a particularly vicious curse.

Ron ignored the dark haired boy trembling up to the sorting hat, and looked to the staff table. There were two empty seats, one of which Snape would sit in. Who would sit in the other was anybody's guess. An uneasy feeling settled within him, which didn't disappear until Snape had finished the sorting in record time and McGonagall stood up to give her speech.

She surveyed them with sharp eyes. She was a world of difference from Dumbledore.

"Now that war is no longer darkening our doorstep, I realise many of you will feel the need to sacrifice your studies in favour of celebration," said McGonagall, and stopped only because her eyes landed on Harry. For a moment, she simply stared. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps you will feel you no longer need to listen to your professors when they are talking to you."

Harry continued doing what he was doing – which was kissing a pretty girl – and didn't even flinch when he realised he was being talked to.

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor," he said, sending her a grin.

Unbelievably, McGonagall let it go. She also appeared to forget what she'd been saying, as the food arrived seconds later.

Halfway through dinner, a sinister grin made its way onto Harry's lips. Ron paled, unable to tear his eyes away as he watched Harry scoop a dollop of mashed potato onto his fork. But Ron's fear disappeared instantly when he realised what was about to happen, and he was far too amused to stop what was coming.

Harry bent the fork back, closed one eye and took aim. As though from a slingshot, the mashed potato soared through the air, over Seamus's head, and landed with a splat straight on the back of Malfoy's head.

Malfoy leapt out of his seat, sending a goblet of pumpkin juice flying straight into Pansy's lap. She screeched at Malfoy, her cheeks scarlet in rage.

Harry roared with laughter, thumping the table with his fist. It was such a contagious nose that Ron couldn't help but join in, and before long, the whole of Gryffindor was laughing, too.

Malfoy and Pansy burned with embarrassment, but there was little they could do in revenge with the professors intently watching them all. They were forced to sit back down and seethe.

After dinner, McGonagall sent them back to their Common Room. Ron couldn't wait to slip beneath his duvet and get some sleep. It had been a long day, and the days were only going to get longer.

The log fire had already been lit, as usual, when the Gryffindors entered the Common Room. Ron yawned as he crossed the room, about to climb the stairs when he realised Harry wasn't by his side. He had a fair idea where he was, though, and … yep, sure enough, Harry's lips were on Parvati's.

Ron just shook his head and climbed the stairs. His four-poster bed, with its heavy scarlet drapes looked so inviting that he flopped onto the mattress without removing his clothes. He didn't care. His pillow was so soft against his cheek, and he was drifting off to sleep, his thoughts filled with images of Hermione.

But his traitorous mind conjured up a vision of Hermione, smiling demurely, wearing only the denim shorts that Harry had liked so much. And suddenly, Ron saw Harry standing behind her, grinning that sinister grin as he made a thrusting motion with his hips, while giving Ron a thumbs-up.

A loud thud jolted Ron fully awake. He blinked rapidly, heart racing, when he heard humming, and then another thud.

"What the—" Ron sat up and should have expected what he saw. "Can't you wait until tomorrow, Harry?"

Harry had dumped the entire content of his trunk onto his bed.

"Oh good, I thought you were sleeping," said Harry. "Here, put this pool table back to its right size."

"Harry," whined Ron. "It's late and I'm tired."

"Don't be such a girl," said Harry, scoffing. "Have a beer with us guys."

Ron pressed his palms into his eyes. Hermione could complain all she wanted, but at least she didn't have to share a dorm with Harry.

"Ah! There's the little bugger."

Harry had found the ice box, and was sharing the beers out with Seamus and Dean. Neville hadn't arrived yet. Ron grabbed his wand and returned the pool table to its original size. It now sat in the middle of the room, taking up too much space.

"Everyone know how to play?" asked Harry, and he received nods from Seamus and Dean. "Good. Dean, you're with me. Rack 'em up, Ron!"

Harry shoved a beer into Ron's hands, and he forced himself to take a sip and drag himself out of bed, to sarcastic cheers. He really wasn't in the mood.

By the time the first frame of pool was over, Ron had finished his beer. He and Seamus had lost badly, but Ron hadn't really been trying anyway. He was sorely mistaken when he thought that would be the end of the night.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Harry, grabbing Ron by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from his bed. "The night's just beginning."

Dean put up a Silencing Charm, which covered the whole room. It was obvious why when Seamus pulled out his wireless, and soon the dormitory was filled with the sound of rock music.

The door opened. Neville walked in and nearly jumped out of his size twelve shoes as the music hit him.

"Neville Longbottom!" shouted Seamus.

"What's going on here?" asked Nev, crossing the room to his bed.

"Never mind that," said Dean. "Where have you been?"

Neville puffed out his chest, and it was only then that Ron noticed the shiny badge on his robes.

"I had a meeting with McGonagall and Hermione," he said. "I'm Head Boy – can you believe it?"

Ron simply stared. When had Neville grown up? Where had that shy eleven year old boy gone?

Neville suddenly frowned as he looked to Harry. "I'm sure it would have gone to you, Harry, had you not had your – um – accident."

"Ha!" The thought of being Head Boy clearly disgusted Harry. "No, thank you."

Neville didn't know what to make of that.

"So," he said, "where did this come from?" He indicated the pool table. "And what is it, anyway?"

"A pool table," said Ron. "Don't worry, I don't understand it, either."

"Wait!" Harry's shout made them wince. "Does this mean the Heads don't have private rooms?"

Neville shook his head. "Um, no. Should we?"

"Huh," said Harry. "You want a beer?"

Neville eyed the beer critically. "I'm not sure alcohol is allowed."

Harry scoffed again. "Oh, no. You're not one of those, are you?"

Neville's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, just give it here."

Sometime later, Ron was starting to feel a bit woozy, his tiredness and the alcohol catching up with him. He might have been drowsy, but Harry was still going strong.

Harry had made them play a drinking game, which had rather simple rules. If you missed a shot at pool, you had to drink. Of course, Ron and Neville could hardly hold a cue and were dreadful at the game, thus they'd drunk nearly twice as much as Harry, Seamus, and Dean.

"Rack 'em up!"

"It's half twelve, Harry," said Ron, groaning. "I need to sleep. We need to be awake at seven."

Harry, of course, just scoffed again. "Don't be silly. I've got a much better idea."

Ron dropped his head into his hands. "What is it?"

"I want to go and see the girls."

Before anyone could so much as blink, Harry had bolted out of the room. Ron looked around the room; Neville was passed out on his bed, the lucky bastard. Dean and Seamus were swaying, their eyes glazed over and half-lidded.

The three of them went to find Harry and found him waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was wide awake and huffed at them.

"Come on," he said, and started to walk up the girls' staircase, when suddenly the stairs disappeared, turning into a slide. Harry lost his balance, fell flat on his arse, and slid down, coming to a stop at Ron's feet.

"What the hell?" demanded Harry.

"We're not allowed up there," said Dean, grinning at Harry's misfortune.

"Well you could've told me that was going to happen," said Harry, climbing to his feet. He eyed the staircase. "So, how do we get up there?"

"We don't," Ron said forcefully.

"Don't you want to go and see Hermione, Ronnie?" Harry said, sniggering.

Ron managed to control his blush. "She's the last person you want to see right now, Harry."

"Don't worry, I've got an even better idea. I'll be right back."

Harry turned around and ran back up the boys' staircase. He was only gone for a few moments, when he came back down, a firework clutched in his grasp.

"No," Ron frantically pleaded. "Please, Harry, you'll wake up the whole bloody castle. And you'll start a fire!"

"Of course I won't," said Harry, shaking his head like Ron was being stupid. "Fred and George planned for that, didn't they? They're safe to use indoors."

It still didn't sit well with Ron, but he had no choice in the matter, as Seamus lit the firework. Harry cackled as he lobbed it up the stairs.

The four boys looked at each other, three of them grinning. Then, as one, they turned around and bolted to their dormitory. They leapt into their beds, and Ron held his breath, waiting for the inevitable, until finally…

BANG!

"Merlin!" Neville leapt out of bed, his eyes wide and his wand in hand. "What the hell was that?"

He didn't receive an answer, as they all pretended to be asleep. Neville threw his robes over his head and ran out of the room, nearly tripping over his own feet in his drunken state.

For a moment, all Ron could hear was the sound of his heart and his breathing, but then the girls started shouting. Hermione's voice cut through the panic, ordering everyone back to bed.

Then, in the darkness, came Harry's quiet laughter.

"I've got to be honest, Potter," said Seamus, who was also chuckling, "even though you're a nutcase, you're loads more fun since you had a knock on the head."

Ron couldn't have disagreed more. "He's bloody barmy!"

"Well, yeah," Seamus said. "But you have to admit it's entertaining as hell."

Ron just shook his head.

He wasn't sure when he managed to fall asleep, but his dreams that night were plagued by the sound of Harry's mad cackling.

A/N: It would be awesome if you'd review and let me know what you think of this story so far.