Chapter 15, Smartass Comments

"speech" – speech
^speech^ - parseltongue

speech – non-verbal speech

'words' – written/emphasis/title

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The rest of the week progressed roughly with a lack of sleep and the ever present glinting eyes of the professors. The trio's friendship was still rocky. Ron could see it in Harry and Hermione's eyes, not to mention the fact that the bond had yet to settle. At this rate the red head was wondering if they could ever get back to those first few days, let alone progressing beyond that.

School work wise the classes were going well. Potions was more of a challenge now that they had to work on separate cauldrons but Ron managed to keep up, Harry and Hermione were both at the top of the class. The three of them were still all wary of Snape though.

The midnight astrology class was at least interesting but learning about the planetary effects on magic caused both Ron and Hermione headaches as Harry's mind because a whirlwind with all the new information to be absorbed into his research.

Herbology was quite the surprise as far as Ron was concerned. Hermione was enjoying the practical side of the subject much more than Ron thought she would, it seemed that she quite enjoyed practical work like gardening and sewing and potion making. He himself was loathing the subject as much as he thought he would, what with them having to interact with dangerous plants, but also succeeded at doing extraordinarily well due to his complete concentration during class.

Harry was the biggest shock though. Considering that he admitted to having done large amounts of garden work and having lived with the Professor Ron assumed that Harry would not only like the subject but do well too, he was wrong on both accounts. Harry made it abundantly clear that he detested gardening, he barely worked and whatever plants he was working with had a tendency to die. Each time Harry's plant would wither (or spontaneously catch fire or cut itself to pieces or…) Professor Sprout would get a weird expression combining annoyance, sadness and pity before ordering Harry to find a new plant. Neither Ron nor Hermione inquire further than a simple 'Alright Harry?'

Thursday and Friday mornings were free periods (though Ron knew that Thursday would eventually become the dreaded Flying lesson). Thanks to these periods they had managed to complete one of the two occlumency books and were regularly practising the exercises. They were still no solid ideas about gaining a mentor, though Hermione pointed out that they might be able to hire one if they looked for a tutor.

Eventually Friday afternoon rolled round. Ron took the time to write a second letter to his parents and another to his sister. Ron knew Harry and Hermione were using the time to catch up on the necessary texts and formulate an argument for the debate. While the three of them had agreed to regularly take place in debates only Harry elected to officially join any school teams. Harry had spent Thursday afternoon at chess club with Lisa, Terry and Morag and had come back with his mind buzzing with gossip that annoyed Hermione for hours.

Sleep was continuously rough each night, though Ron knew he was getting a lot more than Harry and Hermione. Still he was plagued with nightmares and sometime woke up shivering. Saturday morning was the worst.

Ron had been having a particularly violent dream starring Snape and McGonagall when he felt hands on him. Without thinking he snatched the knife off of his bedside and pinned his "attacker" to the mattress. Panicked ice blue met clouded emerald before Ron's brain caught up. With a gasp Ron pulled the dagger away from Harry's throat, a small red drop left behind.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry Harry," Ron hurriedly apologised.

"Sh, keep your voice down or the others will wake up. Ow, that knife isn't coated with poison is it?" Harry whispered.

"No, but wait I'll fix that cut," and with that Ron dived under his bed and pulled out a fully stocked homemade first aid kit.

"I should have known," Harry said softly gazing down as Ron pulled out a yellow tube.

Ron spread a liberal amount of thick yellow paste onto his finger, "Okay tilt your head back."

Harry did so, hissing in pain, and Ron applied the paste. After a few moments it was absorbed into the skin and the cut was gone.

"That is cool," Harry said in hushed awe.

Ron however was more concerned, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you too badly?"

Harry shook his head, "Barely hurt, just stung a little. I'm fine, I've had way worse."

Ron was a little relieved but somehow was also way more concerned; Harry had worse than being attacked with a knife?

"I'll have to remember not to try and wake you up won't I," Harry joked.

Ron didn't laugh, he just felt sick.

"I could have killed you."

Harry grinned, "But you didn't."

"Yeah, but-"

"Look Ron, I'm the boy-who-lived right? Not the boy-who-died. I'm okay seriously."

Ron nodded even though he wanted to press the issue, just who is completely calm after being attacked by their supposed friend?

"You didn't mean it right? You just reacted. I should have realised what would happen, I know you well enough."

Ron wanted to yell at Harry, to tell him that he wasn't at fault and scream at him that he didn't know anything about him. Ron didn't though, he had way too much self-preservation for that, not to mention the fact that he was kind of terrified of Harry. No Ron just faked a grin and started to gather his clothes for a shower. His nightmares were forgotten in the confusion.

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Hermione was awoken by a flood of panic and a sharp pain in her throat. It took her a few minutes to realise that it had just been a dream. She looked down at her watch which read 4:25. With a sigh she curled up to Albert intending to try and sleep again but was plagued by Harry and Ron's thoughts. They were hectic and confusing but Hermione gathered that they were both awake and that something strange had occurred.

Carefully she erected a barrier between herself and the boys. It was far too early in the morning to do anything but sleep or hug her teddy let alone deal with their problems. She'd ask about it later at breakfast or something.

With that thought she rolled over and started to work on occlumency exercises. This one consisted of recreating a house in your mind. The book suggested that you recreated a small building that you knew very well and not to start building original buildings off the bat. Hermione was working with her tree house back home as her real home was far too big to begin with.

Hermione started at the foot of the tree. She imagined the tree, the cubby and the ladder just as she had seen it a millions times. Ascending the ladder she stepped into the first of four rooms. Hermione didn't bother to start imagining furniture, she could fill the small house later, but made sure that every plank of wood was detailed down to the last nail.

Two more rooms and a balcony later Hermione was in the smallest and final room. This one was smaller than the others and its entrance was hidden behind some tree branches. Normally this room was furnished with a small makeshift bed and some books, it was now empty. The book said that at this point to find a secret place, or make one, and put a small chest within it.

Hermione spent ages crafting a chest that she liked; it was made of soft wood painted light blue with a star on the top.

The book then instructed to take memories and thoughts and lock them in the chest. In order to do this though, they had to be visualised. Hermione called forth every memory of her parents fighting or arguing or just not being there and solidified them. She picked up the blue bear that represented her home life and placed it gently into the box. She summoned a large padlock and sealed the bear away.

Hermione was jolted awake by two hands. In front of her was Morag, Lisa's friend.

"Um, your friends asked me to wake you up. I think they are waiting for you down stairs," the girl said with an apologetic smile.

Hermione grinned, "Thank you. Can you tell them I'll be down in a second?"

Morag nodded, "Sure."

As the shy girl left Hermione grinned, her mind felt lighter than usual.

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The twins sat in silence on Forge's bed in Gryffindor tower. It had been four days since "the incident", as they liked to call it, and they had not found a solution no matter how many books they combed through.

Gred groaned in frustration and threw a book at the wall, "God this is impossible!"

"Hey, we have to return that you know," Forge said with a glare.

"What does it matter, huh?" Gred asked dramatically, "They'll be able to tell! It won't be Fred and George anymore, we won't be the same! And god, how do explain which is which? We don't even know our real names!"

"You've been throwing this tantrum for days now."

Gred scowled, "So have you."

"Well I'm over it," Fred retorted.

"Since when?"

"Since now!"

"Sure," Gred muttered sarcastically.

"I am."

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"AM NOT!"

"AM TOO!"

"Will you two shut the hell up?" a third boy interjected.

"NO!" the twins yelled towards their friend Lee Jordan.

Lee shook his head, dark coloured dreadlocks bouncing in the air. He was a child model, something Gred and Forge never heard the end of, with high cheek bones and rich chocolate skin. More so than his looks he had two piercing blue-grey eyes, a common characteristic for high-class purebloods, that could cause even McGonagall to waver.

It took all of three seconds for the twins to apologise.

"Sorry, Lee, I guess," Forge muttered, not quite chastened.

Lee arched a thin eyebrow at him, "I guess? Wow, whatever you two are pissed about really has your bollocks in its mouth, don't it?"

"What does that even mean?" Forge asked, "Seriously, I sometimes wonder where the heck you get your analgises from."

Lee grinned, "My sister studied advanced literature at muggle school."

Gred glare at them both, "Well I love this little bonding chat but Fred and I have a crisis to deal with."

Forge groaned, "We've been at it for hours."

Lee smirked, "That's what she said."

"That's gross," the twins snapped in unison.

"Also what she said, but seriously, what is your problem? Can I help?"

"No!" they snapped again.

Forge continued, "It's none of your business, twin thing."

Lee shrugged and picked up his book bag, "Whatever it is I hope you guys figure it out. You've been acting like Snape the day after Dumbledore's been riding his arse."

"Urgh, mental images!" Gred screamed as Forge clutched his head in agony.

Lee chuckled, "My work is done," as he left the dorm.

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WOW! I updated; shock horror. Anyway, things are moving now! I'm sure everyone is glad we are no longer on the first day. I finding that I have to use Fred and George (or Gred and Forge) to balance this fic; the golden trio are just so mature and the twins, well, aren't. It's kind of fun to write snarky conversations I hope they're fun to read.

As always;

READ AND GODRIC DAMN REVIEW!