This update is thanks to flightofmorning over on tumblr, who successfully guessed my old username.

We begin to go over Harry's high school shenanigans, and will for the next several chapters, but there will always be Tom/Harry interaction (well, mostly REaction from Tom, but still)

I hope it doesn't disappoint!

Harry staggered through the smoke filled building, eyes burning behind his glasses. He reached out and pressed his hand against the wall, using it to steady himself and keep him from missing the exit. There was shouting and yelling, which he did his best to filter out.

There. This was where the door to the stairwell should be.

The heavy fire door had already been pushed open by the person before him, and it was easy for Harry to reach out and keep it open with one forceful shove. An RA was waiting just inside the door, all but shoving him towards the exit.

Harry staggered out the door, still reeling a little from the RA's shove and the smell of the smoke. Not wanting to be in the way of the rest of the people leaving the building, Harry took four steps to the side, propping himself up against the brick wall of the building.

"So?" a familiar voice drawled, and Harry looked up with a grin to find Tom approaching. "How was your escape from the burning building?"

Tom leaned against the wall, the hint of a smile on his face.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Nothing like the real thing," Harry said thoughtlessly, only to flinch once he realized exactly what he'd just said.

Shit. He wasn't used to having to watch himself around Tom. He'd made far too many slip ups, too comfortable in Tom's presence to keep himself on guard.

Tom's posture remained relaxed, but Harry saw the way his eyes sharped and his jaw clenched. Never a good sign, in his experience.

"Oh?" Tom asked, his tone one of polite interest, but Harry knew him better than that. It was only their very public location and his promise to tell Tom everything once they were in private that kept the man from ripping into him then and there, prying the incident out of Harry by whatever means necessary.

Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"The smoke wasn't thick enough," Harry said with a shrug. "Why did it smell and taste like maple syrup?"

It was a poor attempt at deflection, but he was curious.

"An additive they put in the smoke machine. Actually, more likely an impurity or a result of not cleaning it properly. I doubted they wanted the simulated smoke to taste sweet."

"Unless they were trying to keep people from panicking," Harry pointed out. "The sweet smell would help be a reminder." Harry frowned. "I mean, that would defeat the purpose for the participants..."

Harry trailed off with a shrug, not really sure where the train of thought was going. He caught sight of a set of files under Tom's arms and glanced up at his...at Tom. He hadn't had any files during the assembly, and for all the long to run through the "burning" dorm was long, it wasn't that long.

"What're those?" Harry asked.

"Ah," Tom said, and his tone of voice made Harry regret the question instantly. "These," he said, holding up the stack of folders, "would be your records. Barty went ahead and made copies for me while we were sitting through that ridiculous assembly."

Harry blanched.

"There are rather a lot of them, aren't there?" Tom said in a genial tone of voice, thumbing through the stacks of paper. "I've seen a number of student files in my day, and I've never seen one this thick. Most are perhaps five pages total. My own numbers perhaps ten. I must stay, I'm impressed."

Screwed. He was so, so screwed. And not in the good way.

But they were going to have this conversation sooner or later, and putting it off was just going to make it worse. Not just for Harry, but for everyone else as well. Tom was running out of patience, fast.

"Can we cut out now?" Harry asked.

Tom's response was to reach out and grab Harry by the bicep. His grip didn't loosen for even a moment as he dragged Harry back across campus to their dorm. It was only once they were safely ensconced in Tom's room that the man released him, throwing the files down on the desk before he rounded on Harry once again. The expression on his face was dangerous, all his barely surprised rage visible in his eyes as he stalked forward.

Harry swallowed, but not out of fear. That expression wasn't for Harry. That expression had never been for Harry. But there was no denying that the intensity of Tom's rage was having an effect on him.

Tom stalked forward until he had Harry pressed up against the wall, pinning Harry in place with his hands on either side of Harry's neck and the expression on his face.

"How many people, Harry?" Tom hissed, his face close enough that Harry could feel Tom's breath across his face. "How many? How many to I have to kill? How many times did I nearly lose you?"

Harry swallowed, and Tom let out a wordless snarl of rage, pulling away to run his hands through his hair. He stalked around his room once, twice, before he was back, pressing Harry against the wall.

"Never again," he all but growled. "You hear me? No one is going to touch you again. And I'm going to make everyone who dared lay a hand on you regret it."

Tom leaned down, pressing a kiss to Harry's lips that was more teeth and fury than anything else. Harry opened his mouth with a groan, reaching out to fist his hand in Tom's no doubt ridiculously expensive shirt. Everything after that was a blur a bit of a blur, until Harry found himself once again shirtless on Tom's bed, Tom hovering over Harry, kissing Harry as if he was trying to consume him

Tom pulled away, his hand resting on Harry's chest. His cheeks were red, his normally perfect hair nearly as bad as Harry's normally was. His eyes were still wild, the feral thing that lurked behind Tom's perfect masks completely exposed. But Tom was in control of himself again, now. Where before there had only been ferocity, there now lurked the light of reason as well.

"I cannot lose you," Tom said at last. "I will not lose you. Do you understand me?"

Harry reached up and wrapped his hand around Tom's own, pressing it harder against his chest.

"I'm right here, Tom," Harry reassured him, reaching out with his other hand to brush Tom's hair back from his face, a lock having escaped onto his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise you."

Tom only response was to reach out and yank Harry up against him, holding him almost painfully tight as Tom buried his face in Harry's hair. Harry reached out and ran a hand up and down Tom's back, wanting to help soothe his friend as much as possible. Harry listened as Tom's breath gradually shifted from harsh pants to purposefully deep, tightly controlled breaths to something more natural.

When he was confident Tom was mostly back in control, Harry pulled back to look up into those stormy gray eyes. He was in control now, thank god, though Harry could see his darker side lurking close to the surface.

This was going to be hard enough to relive. Harry honestly didn't know if he could get through it. There was no way he could get through it with Tom consumed by his more savage side.

"Tom..." Harry began slowly, "I...I want to tell you. I want you to know. But..." Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to need you to get through this. I don't think I'll be able to get through this without you."

"I'm with you," Tom said, reaching out and cupping Harry's face with his hands. "Of course I'm with you, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes, reaching out and wrapping one of his hands around Tom's wrist, taking a deep breath. Just thinking about what was coming had his stomach in knots. It was hard enough living through it once. Talking about it was going to be excruciating. But Tom deserved to know, and Harry wanted to be the one who told Tom what had happened.

Tom was going to be livid. Tom was going to be enraged, and Harry didn't think he could handle that. Not now.

Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, Harry opened his eyes, to find Tom staring down at him in obvious concern.

"What do you need?" Tom asked, running his thumb along Harry's cheekbone. "Tell me what you need, Harry."

"I need..." Harry took another deep breath, trying to get himself together. "Tom, I'm not going to be able to get through this if you lose your temper. I just...I can't. I need you."

Tom stared at him for a long moment before he leaned down and pressed a surprisingly chaste kiss to Harry's lips.

"Anything for you," Tom said, staring down at Harry intently. "Anything, Harry."

Harry nodded, swallowing around the knot in his throat. Tom studied him intently for a moment before reaching out and gently pushing Harry down on his bed. Tom knelt, and Harry had to avert his eyes, his mouth dry and his skin heating from the image of Tom on his knees. Now was absolutely not the time to get distracted by exactly how attractive his...by how attractive Tom was.

Tom hands wrapped around his ankle, his long fingers pulling apart the knot in Harry's laces before gently easing the shoe off his foot. Harry had to close his eyes, fighting down the rush of arousal that made it's way through him. Tom was just taking his shoes off. His reaction was completely ridiculous, and totally out of proportion. But there was something almost terrifyingly intimate about it. About how Tom Riddle, a boy who thought himself better than anyone else, grown to a man who knew it to be true, had gotten on his knees for Harry. How Tom had done something most people would consider degrading, without being asked, all for Harry. And he hadn't even hesitated.

Thankfully, for Harry's sake at least, Tom rose gracefully to his full hight once again, settling onto the bed beside Harry before he reached out, pulling Harry with him. When they'd been arranged to Tom's satifaction, Harry found himself bracketed between Tom's legs, his back pressed up against Tom's chest, Tom's arms wrapped around him.

"Good?" Tom asked.

"Fantastic," Harry answered.

Harry was completely surrounded by Tom. He felt warm. He felt protected. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe. Tom wasn't going to let anything hurt him.

Sighing happily in contentment, Harry let himself settle back against Tom, wrapping his hands over Tom's on his stomach.

"Tell me," Tom said.

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes to fortify himself. He took a deep breath, and then began.

The trek to Hogwarts school of Academic Excellence was a long one for Harry. It took him two days and three greyhounds to get across the country and close enough to campus that the shuttle could take him to the dorm.

The day before his freshman year at Hogwarts was due to start, Harry was sitting on his last bus, dozing in the early morning light. The bus slowed, and Harry blinked, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses and cracking his neck before looking out the window. It was just a curbside stop, which meant he wouldn't have the chance to get up and stretch his legs.

At the stop stood a gaggle of people, all with red hair. Four boys, one girl, and a woman. As the bus came to a stop, the woman hugged each of the boys tightly, her eyes wet with tears. Their mother. Hugging each of the boys goodbye.

It wasn't until all the luggage was stowed and the boys began boarding the bus that Harry realized he'd been staring. He turned his attention to the book in his lap, doing his best to watch the boys from out of the corner of his eyes.

One by one they found seats, until it was only the youngest left, tall and lanky, walking further and further back in the bus looking more and more uncomfortable until at last he came to a stop beside the empty seat next to Harry.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asked. "It's just, everywhere else is full."

Harry nodded wordlessly and pulled his ratty third-hand backpack off the seat, shoving it under the seat in front of him.

The redhead sat, situating his own bag as best he could before jamming his lanky legs into the small space. Harry winced it sympathy. It didn't look comfortable at all. As soon as he was situated, he reached down to rummage in his bag, making a noise of triumph. He straighted out again, two sandwiches covered in plastic wrap in his hands.

"Corned beef," Ron muttered sadly, staring at his sandwiches. "I don't know why she does this. I hate the stuff. Recon she must have got me mixed up with George again."

He turned to Harry, holding out a sandwich.

"You want one?"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, but he was already reaching forward.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go ahead."

Harry took the sandwich and tore the plastic wrap apart. He was starving. It had been days since he had had a proper meal, and it was all he could do to keep himself from shoving half of the sandwich into his mouth whole.

"I'm Ron, by the way," he said, holding out his hand. "Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, reaching out to shake the other boy's hand. "Thanks for the sandwich."

Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Really, don't worry about it. You saved me from feeling guilty about throwing it away when I got to Hogwarts."

Harry sat up straighter.

"Hogwarts?"

"Academy of academic excellence," Ron said. "Preppy private school. My parents went there, all my brothers have gone, and Ginny's going to be going next year."

"What's it like?" Harry asked.

The rest of the five hour bus ride flew by, the two trading stories back and forth. By the time the bus finally pulled into their stop, Harry and Ron were joined at the hip. and stayed that way throughout their time at Hogwarts.

They ended up in the same house - Gryffindor, and shared a suite with the other freshman boys who'd been given the same assignment. When they arrived, the single had been taken by a shy, plump boy named Neville, but the two doubles were still open. Harry hesitated, but it seemed like Ron hadn't noticed, walking past him to one of the empty rooms. Harry stayed in the hallway, struggling with exactly what he was supposed to do. Should he follow Ron? Did the other boy think he was too pathetic to want to spend any more time with?

"Hey," Ron said, sticking his head around the doorframe. "Do you want top bunk or bottom?"

Harry smiled, relief washing through him as he adjusted his grip on his backpack.

"Top," he answered. He was tired of being tucked away in tight places.

There were two other names on the door to the suite, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Dean was a tall, dark skinned boy with a friendly smile. Seamus was a short, pale freckled firecracker of energy. As soon as they met, they got on like a house on fire. They all spent some time together in the sitting room of their dorm, awkwardly trying to get to know each other.

That night, Harry started up at the ceiling for hours, excitement to strong to let him fall asleep. For the first time in his life, he was free from his past. No one knew him as a troublemaker or a delinquint. Harry could earn his own reputation now, not have one foisted on him by the Dursleys.

For the first time since he had lost Tom, Harry felt like the really had a chance.

Breakfast the next morning was almost overwhelming, all of the house crammed into a few long benches in the attached dinning hall. They boys claimed one table for themselves. Staring around the room, it was easy for Harry to spot the freshman girls. They were all sitting together, just like the boys, each of them looking awestruck and awkward.

Their head of house was a huge giant of a man named Rebus Hagrid. Harry had met him the night before, when he'd dropped by to see how they were all settling in. He welcomed them all awkwardly before dismissing them table by table to grab food, coming around and passing out schedules while they all cycled through the kitchen, collecting their breakfast.

Throughout his first day, Harry met other people both in his house and outside it. For the most part, they shared their classes with the freshman of one of the other houses. Harry imagined it was to expose them to other students, while still having their house as a support system.

He met many people that first day of classes, but there were two in particular who made a lasting impression.

The first was Draco Malfoy. The boy had taken one look at Ron and sneered, and Harry had hated him instantly. That hatred only grew when he opened his mouth and began scoffing about the scholarship students. Ron flushed a furious red, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes fixed on the ground.

It took everything in his power not to walk over and deck the boy. Still, his time had taught him better. He didn't have to like Malfoy, but there was no point in making an enemy of him either. At least, there was no point in letting Malfoy *know* he considered him an enemy.

So Harry had replied with a snide comment. One sharp enough to keep Malfoy from saying anything else, but not so pointed as to make Malfoy aware of exactly how much of Harry's animosity he had earned.

After a week had passed, Harry snuck into the Slytherin dorms and placed red dye in his hair care products. Malfoy's cheeks were the same shade as his hair the second week of classes. And he'd annoyed enough people during the first that most were perfectly happy to mock him openly for it.

The results had been even better than Harry had expected. His white-blond hair held the dye beautifully, and it took almost two weeks for the stuff, which was supposed to last a day or two at most, to wash out.

The perpetrator of the prank was something of a celebrity on campus. But for all the acclaim, Harry didn't step forward. He was perfectly content to remain in the shadows, happy to play off his own smirk as admiring someone else's handywork.

The only person Harry had told was Ron, who been equal parts awed and annoyed that he hadn't been included. Harry had promise to ask for Ron's help the next time he played a prank, and that seemed to placate him. But even though he had sworn Ron to secrecy, his brothers, Fred and George, kept giving him speculative glances, smiling with approval whenever they noticed him looking.

The other stare he was subject to was far more suspicious and far less admiring. It came from the second person who had caught Harry's attention that semester.

Hermione Granger was one of the most brilliant students in the school. She always had her hand in the air, straining to answer a question. She always recited much more than the teacher had requested, usually to the teacher's great delight.

Harry was intrigued, but he wasn't as impressed as everyone else. He'd grown up with Tom, after all. Tom, who wasn't just brilliant, but able to expand on whatever it was he was reading, make intuitive jumps. The books were a tool to Tom, a mere starting place. Hermione was still far to chained to them. She couldn't make intuitive leaps, couldn't generalize or come to conclusions if she hadn't seen the material before. She was formulaic in her approach, sounding as if she'd swallowed a book instead of synthesizing the information the way Tom would, the way Harry could.

Ron hated her. He called her names, attacking her for her tendency to have a book in her nose at all times, and her strict adherence to the rules.

"It's no wonder nobody likes her," Ron fumed on halloween, after he'd been assigned to work with her for the period in their English class. "Bossy little know it all like that, who'd want to spent time with her?"

There was a sharp inhale behind them, and then Hermione brushed past them, head bowed, walking as fast as her legs would carry her. Not fast enough to keep harry from hearing the hitch in her breathing as she did, not fast enough to stop him from seeing how bright her eyes were.

"You don't think she heard me, do you?" Ron asked him.

Harry just gave him a hard look in response.

Ron slumped his shoulders and leaned against the nearest bank of lockers.

"She wasn't crying, was she? I didn't mean to make her cry," Ron said timidly. "Not that she doesn't deserve it, mind you. Not with the way she's always showing off, correcting everyone."

"Ron," Harry said, leveling him with a look.

His friends shoulder's slumped, what was left of his righteous indignation leaving as he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I just...she makes me feel so *stupid*," he said.

Harry grew angry. No one insulted his friend. Not ever Ron himself.

"You're not stupid," Harry said sharply. "I mean that. You're just not the same kind of smart Hermione is. Books can be useful and important, but they aren't everything. Who is it who makes sure we win every contest in P.E.?" Harry asked.

"Me," Ron began "but..."

"Who absolutely kicks ass at our D&D games?" Harry asked him again.

"Me," Ron said.

"You forget the dates, but you know all the details of the battles we cover in history," Harry said, ignoring Ron's protests. "You're one of the best in the class at math, because you ignore all the extra stuff and attack the problem directly. You have trouble with the formulas, yeah, but half the time you can get yourself there without them. Don't sell yourself short, Ron. You're a brilliant strategist, and an excellent problem solver. There's more to smarts than books, understand?"

"Yeah," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, a blush on his cheeks and a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, alright. I get it Harry. Really, I do."

"Good," Harry said shortly.

Ron let hand fall and heaved out a sigh, leaning back agains the lockers and looking up at the ceiling.

"I should go apologize to Hermione, shouldn't I?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, I think you probably should."

"Where do you think she went?" Ron asked.

"Pavarti or Lavender would know," Harry said.

Ron groaned.

"I hate talking with them. They're so...giggly."

"Well, you should have thought of that before you made Hermione cry in the first place," Harry said simply.

Pavarti and Lavender were both in the dining hall, and for all they were by no means fans of Hermione themselves, that didn't stop them from glaring at Ron as soon as they set their eyes on them.

"It's a good thing looks can't kill," Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry nodded in agreement. If they could, Ron would be nothing but a smoking crater in the floor.

"What do you want?" Lavender snapped at them as they approached the table.

"Do you know where Hermione is?" Ron asked.

"Why?" Pavarti asked. "You want to make her cry again?"

Ron gaped at that, and Harry stepped in before things could get out of hand.

"He wants to apologize," Harry said simply. "Can you tell us where she is?"

They both stared at him for a long moment, as if they could somehow tell how sincere he was being by peering into his eyes. Harry stood there, doing his best to project his genuine desire to help Ron find Hermione.

"She's in the girls bathroom near the far end of the English wing," Pavarti said, relenting at last.

"Where she's been since English let out an hour ago," Lavender said snottily.

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry grabbed him by the elbow before things had the chance to devolve any further.

"We'd better not waste anymore time, then," Harry said simply.

He practically dragged Ron away from the table, though it didn't prevent him from reaching out and pocketing a sandwich as they walked past. Old habits, and all that.

It was when they were walking down the English hall when the heard it. A low, growling noise, echoing through the hall.

"What is that?" Harry asked, jerking his head around in search of the source. "I mean, it sounds almost like a dog."

"That's no dog," Ron said, his voice trembling, his hand latching onto Harry's sleeve.

Harry spun around so he was facing the same way as Ron, only to freeze in his tracks.

Ron was right. That was no dog. It was far, far too big to be a dog. It was huge, with long, unnaturally sharp white teeth. It was covered in dark, thick fur, and the snarl it let out had the hair rising on the back of Harry's neck.

"What do we do?" Ron whispered frantically.

The monster dog burst into menacing barks, bolting forwards and eating up the ground between them at an incredible pace.

"Run!" Harry shouted, already turning.

It was all the prompting Ron needed, turning and running beside him. Still, for all that his friend had a head start, Harry could already see the gap between them widening. Ron was built more for distance, whereas Harry had perfected the art of sprinting long ago. If they kept going like this, the dog would attack him. Harry was sure of it.

He couldn't let that happen.

There. A door.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, pointing.

Ron nodded and changed direction, sprinting towards the door, while Harry slowed to a stop, just next to the door, and turned to face the dog still sprinting at them. This was a bad idea, Harry though as the beast came towards him. Such a bad, bad idea. Still, it was the only one he had.

Ron yanked open the door, and Harry pulled the sandwich out of his pocket, throwing a piece of meat at the dog. He watched as the dog approached the meat, sniffing at it for a moment before he snapped it up with jaws that would have no trouble ripping through Harry's flesh.

Harry wasted no time. He doubted the dog would be distracted for long.

"Now!" he yelled.

Ron yanked open the door, and Harry tossed in the sandwich. The dog darted after it, and Ron slammed the door as soon as the dog was through. He blocked the door with his body, holding it shut.

"Find something!" Ron shouted.

Harry darted into the nearest classroom, dragging the nearest student table out of the classroom and across the hall. Ron met him halfway and they shoved it up against the door.

Panting, adrenaline coursing through him, Harry leaned heavily against the desk. He turned and faced Ron to find his friend grinning. Ron held up his hand and Harry leaned over to give him a high five. They'd done it, Harry though giddily. They'd actually done it. They'd done it and survived.

"Holy shit," Ron said. "God, my heart is still pounding. I can't believe we just did that."

Harry just nodded wordlessly.

"We should...we should call somebody," Ron said. "Let them know what's happening. Do you have a cell phone?"

Harry gave Ron a look. They were close friends at this point, and had been living in each other's pockets for two months at this point. Ron had seen his ratty, oversized clothes. The fact that the uniform was included in the cost of admission was the only thing that kept the rest of the school from knowing the same. He knew exactly how many possessions Harry had, and he knew that a cellphone wasn't among them.

"Right," Ron said. "Stupid question. What the hell do I do?"

"The classroom's have phones," Harry pointed out.

"You stay here," Ron said. "I'll go call security."

Before he had the chance, a scream rent the air. They looked at each other with horrified faces before they turned around.

The bathroom. The girl's bathroom, at the end of the English wing. The girl's bathroom they'd just locked the dog from hell in.

"Hermione," they both said at once.

Ron yanked the table out of he way, and Harry jerked the door open. He ran into the bathroom, Ron hot on his heels.

"Hermione?" Harry yelled, Ron's voice echoing the same cry a fraction of a second later.

"Harry? Ron?" she shouted, her voice bouncing around the room.

Harry took in the scene before him as quickly as he could. Hermione was standing on the bathroom counter, her back pressed up agains the mirror, standing awkwardly in the small space between two sinks. The dog was on the floor in front of her, snarling and barking, sharp teeth snapping, jumping up and down in an effort to get at her.

"We're coming, Hermione," Harry called out.

Taking a deep breath, he sprinted to the other side of the bathroom as fast as he could. The dog saw him and turned, snarling and lunging for him as he made his way past. Harry felt something tugging on his trousers, and then there was a loud tearing noise as a large section of cloth tore out of his pants.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

There was no pain, and no blood, but seeing what those teeth could do up close and personal was terrifying. If the dog had gotten a grip on his leg instead of snagging the hem of his pants, he'd be missing a chuck of flesh from his left now. He was certain of it.

The dog's attention was fully on him now, ignoring Hermione. There was a low growling noise, and Harry cast around desperately for something, anything to use as a weapon. Finding nothing, he braced his back against the wall, ready to kick the thing once it got close. He just hoped he'd surprise it enough that it wouldn't try to go for his leg in the process.

"Hey!" Ron called. "Over here, you mangey monster."

Ron threw a basket of paper towels at the dog's head, which did an excellent job of getting it's attention.

The dog rounded on him, but before it could attack, Hermione threw a bottle of soap at it's head. Harry spotted Hermione's bag on the counter a few feet in front of him and he darted forward, grabbing it and pulling back just as the dog rounded on him. He reached inside and grabbed the first thing his fingers touched, throwing it at the dog. Their math textbook landed with a thud across the dog's back and it whimpered in pain.

Then suddenly Ron there, straddling the dog and pinning it down with his weight. It was forced down to the ground, Ron's legs far enough away that it couldn't bite him, no matter how hard he tried.

"Go call security," Ron ordered, his face grim with determination as the dog tried in vein to buck him off.

Hermione sunk down to a sitting position on the sink, face pale and hands trembling. She wouldn't be able to help, Harry was certain. Harry didn't want to leave them alone. Not Ron with the dog or Hermione, clearly in shock.

Hermione, though, was the type to have a cellphone. It would never be on in class, Harry was certain, but she would always have it on her. Just in case of emergencies. Like, say, being attacked by a giant, vicious dog.

Harry fished around in her bag, half an eye on both Ron and Hermione as he did so. Finally he found it, tucked away in a side pocket. It seemed like the phone took a small eternity to start, but at last it rang out with a cheery tune as the name of the carrier flashed across the screen. Harry thumbed his way over to contacts as quickly as he could, fingers slipping in his haste. Eventually he pulled them open, and was grateful not to have misjudged Hermione. Security was there, in her contacts.

Harry called them, holding the phone up to his ear with shaking hands, explaining in and unsteady voice what had happened and where they were. He ignored the security guard's barked questions and instead closed the phone, throwing it back in Hermione's bag before he dropped it to the ground. Harry took several deep breaths, white teeth flashing behind his eyes before he forced them open again.

"Is everyone alright?" Harry asked. "Hermione?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaking somewhat. "I'm fine," she repeated again, more firmly this time. "I jumped on the sink while it was distracted, and it couldn't reach me. It ripped my stockings, but that's it."

"Ron?" Harry asked, turning to face his friend.

"I'm alright," he said. "I've got a good grip on it, so it shouldn't get away again. What the hell is this thing?" he asked, turning to face them both with wide, wild eyes.

"It looks..." Hermione said slowly. "It looks almost like a wolf."

Harry jerked his head back around to face the animal Ron had pinned. A wolf? Sure not. Wolves weren't native to the area, and how the hell would one have gotten into the school, anyway?

Harry shook off Hermione's comment , turning his attention to Ron.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Harry asked, nodding towards the pinned animal.

"Nah," Ron said, shifting a little before settling again. "I got it. Better not throw another person into the mix until we have to."

"Right," Harry said. "Excellent."

And then he slid down the wall until his ass hit the bathroom floor, beyond caring about the damp that began to seem into his patns.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" Hermione asked, lowering herself so she was sitting on the counter.

"Ron has something to say to you," Harry replied primly.

Hermione turned her attention to Ron.

"I'm sorry," he said, managing to look somewhat abashed, even while kneeling on what Harry refused to believe was a wolf. "I just...I wasn't understanding and the way you were trying to explain it didn't make sense to me. I'm sorry."

Hermione stared at him, her expression frozen, blinking once, twice before she spoke.

"I think, given the way things panned out, I can forgive you. In fact, I think I should be thanking you."

"No," Ron said, his ears turning red. "I mean, it's our fault this thing went after you in the first place."

"If you hadn't been here..." Hermione began to protest.

Harry looked back and forth between the two of the burst out laughing. The situation was just so absurd. Ron looked at him and began guffawing, and Hermione's laughter wasn't far behind.

When the security guard arrived five minutes later, he took in the scene and stared at them all gobsmacked.

It only made them laugh harder.