Romeo, Romeo…
Monday proved a test of patience for Harry, though it did amuse him that Hermione was even more grateful to return to classes than usual, and that was saying something rather significant. "You do not understand how simply awful those Slytherins are!" she exclaimed during breakfast.
Harry snorted indiscreetly into his goblet. Ron had no qualms about voicing his opinions, and laughed outright. "We've been telling you that for years, 'Mione!"
She waved a hand in his direction as she sipped from her own cup. "Please, Ronald," she started in a tone that implied that she was used to humoring the red-head, "no one ever actually listens when you talk. They simply try to dodge the breadcrumbs."
Ron's face turned a mottled sort of red as Hermione stood and gathered her books, leaving the table with no apparent concern that the first class of the day wouldn't start for another half hour. "That's not true, is it, Harry?" he managed to sputter.
Harry choked back another laugh and bit into his toast, waiting until Ron looked away to brush the crumbs from his sleeve. A sudden jostling at his side drew his attention to Ginny, who had no problem with shoving Seamus over to squeeze next to him.
"Is it true?" she asked, dispensing with all pleasantries.
"Good, morning, Harry. How are you? Oh, fine, thanks, Ginny. You?" Harry said, instead of answering her question.
"Ha, ha. You're a comic genius," Ginny replied, "but as funny as you talking to yourself could be, I'd rather you talk to me. Are you really dating that Ravenclaw?"
Ginny, Harry had long since discovered, had the tenacity of a pit-bull. Once she had her teeth into something, she simply refused to let go. Luckily, she was also in the year below his. "Gee, look at the time!" he exclaimed, trying to contain his blush. "Hadn't we better go, Ron?"
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs. Harry gave him a meaningful look, which had no effect whatsoever, before grabbing the other boy's arm and dragging him from the room, despite Ron's loud protests.
"Hey!" Ginny called out, but Harry just moved faster. Something clattered behind them and he glanced back quickly. Ginny was on the floor, the bench they'd just vacated upended next to her as she glared daggers at Seamus. The teen pretended not to notice, but Harry could see his smirk as clearly as he could see the foot still resting on the leg of the bench. He chuckled to himself, the sound drowned out by the laughter echoing around the Great Hall, and made good his escape.
The rest of the day was hardly any closer to normal than breakfast had been. The whispers and the feeling that people were staring at him were things he'd grown used to years ago, and it almost never bothered him anymore. But the guys, some he barely recognized, coming up to congratulate him and the girls asking straight out if the rumors were true, those were the events that really threw his mood off.
Being in potions class, usually the one class when most of the students were afraid to open their mouths, didn't help and Snape docked Harry fifteen points each time another student leaned over to whisper something to him. By the time the greasy git released them, he'd managed to set Gryffindor back 195 points and Harry was actually praying for rehearsal to start.
"Don't these people have anything better to talk about?" he asked Hermione as they left the dungeons. Snape taking the points that brought the tally to 75 had resulted in the loss of Harry's grip on his frustration and he was no longer inclined to deal politely with anyone who asked him any kind of question right now. He glared at a Hufflepuff who'd been making a bee line for him. The boy gulped and swiftly turned away.
"If they did, I think we'd both be in a better mood right now," Hermione returned stiffly. She'd lost her patience before the tally hit 45, and was more than a little bitter over the total loss, which covered nearly all the points she'd earned for Gryffindor since the start of the year.
"Congratulations, Harry!" the Weasley twins called out in unison, spotting Harry as the left the History of Magic classroom. "At our best, we haven't lost so many points in one class," Fred confessed and slapped Harry on the back. He groaned as the twins wandered off, discussing whether to attend the next class or skip in favor of booby-trapping Snape's office while the professor took his lunch.
"I hope they choose the booby-traps," Ron said as he followed Harry and Hermione into the room, his foul mood clear enough in both the words and his face. "It wasn't your fault they wouldn't shut-up!" he exclaimed, slamming his books down on the desk hard enough to surprise Professor Binns, and the little ghost jumped slightly. Any other time Harry would have found the movement funny, but his anger with Snape and the other students overrode his humor.
The three spent the entire class in sullen silence. A few well-aimed glares, and a threatening wave of wand from Hermione, kept the other students away, but the boys were on their own in Divinations. Harry suffered through nearly an hour of Lavender, Padma and Parvati's questions, gossiping and squealing alone, sending helpless glances at Ron, who'd been shoved away by the girls from his usual seat next to Harry.
Finally, unable to withstand the torture, Harry did what any Gryffindor worthy of the title would have done. He faked ill and begged for a trip to the infirmary. Trelawney, who nursed a fondness for her favorite victim of predicted death, allowed him to go with the promise that he would arrive in time for rehearsal that evening, and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon in the relative comfort and absolute silence of the white walled hospital wing.
By some perverse trick of time, Harry found himself headed toward the rehearsal room too early for his happiness. The day had seemed to drag on for eternity until his escape, and as soon as he'd arrived in the infirmary, time shot forward at light speed. It just didn't seem quite fair. He sighed and stepped into the room, trying his best to ignore the chatter as he claimed his chair from four days earlier.
Seamus bounded into the room a few moments later, tossing Harry his script. "Heard you were sick, mate. All better?" the red-head asked, barely waiting for Harry's nod before turning in his chair to strike up a conversation with the boys in the chorus. Lisa sat next to him and gave him a wink before joining the conversation between Terry Boot and Hannah Abbot about costumes.
The chairs were filled by the time Trelawney swept into the room, nodding to Binns, as an apology for her lateness, Harry supposed. "We will start today where we ended," she informed them, the announcement followed immediately by the rustling of paper as the students flipped pages in their scripts. Harry opened his script as well, not needing the "Act one, scene three," the professor added almost as an afterthought to find the place. It was the end of his humiliation on Thursday and the start on Monday. He wasn't likely to forget it.
There was some time before he had to say anything, and Harry furrowed his brow, concentrating on the words on the page as Hannah and Pansy Parkinson, playing the nurse, began their dialogue. Good god, even she could act better than he could! He looked up when Lisa spoke, her voice clear and carrying. She knew her part well, as Harry guessed, and sounded like she could star in the role if the play was performed the next day.
Harry frowned again as he continued reading along. His study of the script the night before, and his fierce attention now, saved him from Seamus' elbow and he spoke his line as soon as Binns announced the beginning of the next act. He managed to keep up with the flow of the words for the entire page and was feeling quite proud over the improvement. Then he heard a snort from across the circle as Seamus enthusiastically began Mercutio's Queen Mab speech, and chanced looking up.
Malfoy sat across from him, as he had before, and the same pained expression was on his face. He shook his head at Harry and the Gryffindor could feel the little confidence he had start to drain away. He wasn't as bad as he'd been last Thursday. He'd actually stayed focused today.
Then came the inevitable anger the blond boy always seemed to ignite, and Harry scowled back. No one had asked for his opinion, and Harry hadn't wanted the role anyway. If Malfoy wanted to play Romeo, Harry would have given him the role with a smile, but it wasn't his choice! It had never been his choice! He hadn't wanted to come to the auditions and he certainly hadn't wanted to be in the play. "What?" he asked sharply when he felt Seamus' elbow dig into his ribs rather insistently.
The red-head gave Harry a glare that made him instantly ashamed before answering, "It's your line." He pointed to his script and Harry, blushing, fumbled to turn the page on his own and stumbled over his line, short as it was. Then he sighed. Great. One look away from the script and it was all over.
An hour later, Trelawney dismissed the group. They'd made it to the end of act two, with much stuttering and stumbling on Harry's part and the students were all to ready to leave. Harry sighed as he stood and stretched. He'd thought they'd never get through that balcony scene. Afterwards he'd had precious few pauses, the curse of playing a lead role.
It was about the time that nurse told Juliet of Romeo's plan for marriage that the idea had occurred to him. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have rejected the idea as the rubbish he knew it was. Today however, he was desperate. It was only three days until the next rehearsal and he couldn't make it through another as bad as this.
"Come on, Harry," Seamus nudged him, "dinner!"
He decided to go through with it. Harry checked to see his target occupied with Trelawney, and bored if his expression was any indication, then he leaned to Seamus. "Did you know," he whispered conspiratorially, "that as we speak, Dean is alone in the dorm room."
Seamus froze, and then turned to look at him, eyes wide. Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt. He knew Seamus had been searching for the perfect time to lay out on the table once and for all his feelings for Dean, just as he knew that Dean had been avoiding Seamus since the boy's last experiment. Harry couldn't blame him. He'd keep his distance from Seamus if the boy had managed to corrupt a spell used to dye hair to one used to dye skin. Even McGonagall had been unable to vanish the brightly colored stars, stripes and polka-dots that had erupted over Dean's flesh, and the three days it took for the marks to fade away had been less than pleasant for him.
He squashed the feeling though. It was for the greater good. "You know this for sure?" the Irish teen asked.
Harry nodded. "Of course. Neville's helping Professor Sprout tend the greenhouses tonight and Ron is always at least thirty minutes early to dinner."
Seamus nodded and shot off, dodging through the crowd at the door in his hurry to get to Dean before the boy headed downstairs. Harry sent a silent apology to him before moving slowly toward his own target, for once thankful for the Divinations professor for keeping the other boy occupied.
He reached Malfoy's side just as the woman finished whatever story she was relating. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and turned to Binns, leading him from the room as she started another. Harry shook his head. He was thankful the only thing she ever wanted to tell him was what new way he would meet his demise the next day.
"Well?" the Slytherin said, his tone telling Harry that Trelawney had taxed whatever patience Draco Malfoy did possess.
Still he worked up his nerve. "I need a favor," he finally managed.
Malfoy stared down at him, not quite able to control the utter shock that came over his face, followed quickly by the smug smirk that annoyed Harry so much. "How nice. Such a shame I don't do favors." He started to walk away.
Harry had expected this reaction, but he hadn't expected the panic to set in as strongly as it did. "Malfoy, please," he said, trying his best not to sound to terribly pathetic. That would probably, definitely, come later. Malfoy stopped and looked back at him.
He fought past the lump of dread in his throat as he tried to finish. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was going to regret this moment. "I can't do this on my own," he finally got out. "Hermione's too busy and Ron's basically useless at this stuff. I- I can't ask anyone else." Harry chanced a glance up to find Malfoy examining with a brow raised and arms crossed over his chest. The smirk grew wider with every word Harry tried not to choke on. "Please, help me. Tutor me."
Harry stared at the floor. It was easier than looking at the Slytherin, and it brought his hair, long as it was, forward enough to cover the fact that he was flushed bright red with shame. "I'll do whatever you want me to, but just…" he trailed off. It was seriously too pathetic; he couldn't even force himself to go on. He almost wished to be back in the cupboard under the stairs with his aunt and uncle discussing his worthlessness just feet away.
"Meet me in the Arithmancy room after dinner," was all he heard, spoken in the same drawling tone, he'd heard the other teen use dozens of times before. It was the same tone he'd used to insult Ron in first year, to insult Hermione in second, and so many other times in the years since Harry came to Hogwarts. So it was understandable that it wasn't until he heard the heavy door slam into place behind the blond wizard that Harry realized he hadn't said no.
A/N: Ok, then. I'm sleepy so that's all for now. I'll try an update sooner next time, so sorry for the wait. Until then, thanks to brionyjae, SwarmOfFanGirls, and BladeMaxwell-GoddessOfDeath for the reviews. You guys are great!