Chapter 40

Second Year…

"Your turn," she said, grinning triumphantly, chewing on her bean.

Harry closed his eyes and reached into the bag. Please be normal. Please be normal. Picking a piece from the pile, he pulled it out, and with one swift move, dumped it into his mouth. Ugh! Earwax. It had to be earwax, didn't it? But he couldn't lose now, Buffy was already ahead. So, with great effort, he forced his face to remain still.

"You twitched," she accused.

"I did not."

"I saw your nose move."

"It's called breathing."

"No one breathes that harshly."

"I do."

She glared at him as he chewed on his candy. "Cheater."

"You know it's not nice to call yourself names."

Grabbing a Drooble from her pile, she aimed for his head, but Harry caught it without hesitation. Stupid Seeker skills.

"Doesn't matter, I'm still winning," Buffy said smugly.

"Yeah, yeah."

Unexpected. Unexplainable. Totally topsy-turvy. That was the only way to describe it. One day, which seemed like ages ago, they were at each other's throats, belittling each other as much as they could, and now…now…

"Your turn," he said with a self-satisfied grin.

Now, they were playing the Flinching Game.

After that first night, Harry went back again and again. Night after night. After everyone had gone to sleep, he sneaked into the hospital wing and kept Buffy company until she drifted off into dreamland herself. And if you had asked them how things had changed so much between them, in so few days, they would answer you with the most honest answer they could give. They had absolutely no idea.

It slowly began simmering on the first night. When Buffy had let her guard down and Harry had caught a glimpse of the softer side of Buffy so few had seen. It began to grow on the second, when Harry had told her everything that had happened down in the Chamber of Secrets, from what he knew at least, and when Buffy showed honest concern for his wellbeing as well as for Ginny's, his opinions began to change. Then on the third night…on the third night, that's when things really turned.

Harry had absolutely no reason to be there on that night, other than the fact that he wanted to be. Simple as that. And though it was a little tough at first to ease into a flow of conversation, by the end of it, there seemed to be no trouble at all. Mostly due to three things: one, Buffy seemed to have an opinion on everything and Harry felt the freedom to express his own ideas without restriction; two, Buffy actually had a wicked sense of humor that Harry enjoyed, and Buffy realized Harry had a funny bone or two inside his body as well; and three…well, as it turned out, two people with competitive streaks made for one strange comfort zone.

So now, it was the fourth night, and here it was, the Flinching Game in its second round.

"My turn," she said nervously, and sneakily glanced into the bag before closing her eyes and putting her hand in.

"You peeked," he accused, and rightly so.

"No, I didn't," she brushed off, and picked her bean.

"Cheater."

"You know it's not nice to call yourself names."

Smiling brilliantly at Harry's narrowed eyes, Buffy popped her mystery flavor into her mouth. Right before scrunching her face up in disgust.

"Ha!" He grinned victoriously and punched her gently on the arm.

"Vomit." She shuddered, forcing the candy down her throat.

"See what happens when you cheat."

"All right, Mr. Morality, it's your turn."

Not coming down from his small victory, Harry took his turn with a smirk on his face. That very soon disappeared when the flavor penetrated his tongue.

"Ha," she mimicked, and punched him gently on the arm, or at least she thought it was gently.

"Ouch!" he cried out, spitting out the Tripe flavored bean in the process. "That hurt."

"Don't be such a baby."

"No, I'm serious."

He was rubbing his arm like he was in real pain. She didn't hit him that hard, did she? She had been feeling stronger lately. A lot stronger than she ever had actually. As a matter of fact, her whole body felt different. She felt…powerful.

"Whatever," she shrugged.

"Well, thank you so much for your concern." He rolled his eyes, giving up on his sure to be bruised shoulder.

"Hey, I'm the one in the hospital bed," she pointed out, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from her ever, growing pile of sweets, thanks to her Slytherin mates.

"Why are you still here anyway? Shouldn't they have released you by now?"

"Who knows," she shrugged again, unwrapping the candy and automatically giving Harry the card inside it without a look or second thought. "They're probably just keeping me here to keep Pomfrey busy."

Harry looked down at his card: Wilfred Elphick. He already had this one. Tucking it into his pocket, he put it with the other four she had given him tonight.

"You know if you keep eating all that chocolate, you'll never get to sleep."

"Probably," she replied.

He watched as she took another bite and shook his head. "Slytherins," he sighed disapprovingly.

"Gryffindors," she mimed him.

"All of them useless," they said at the exact same time.

Reaching over to the small tray that stood across Buffy, and filled with more candy than she could handle, he grabbed a Chocoball.

"Hypocrite," she said, just as Harry touched the unwrapped candy to his lips. And with a smirk and a wink, popped it into his mouth. "All of them useless," she said again.

"Gwyffindos?"

"No." She shook her head smiling. "Boys."


"Well, isn't this cozy."

Turning away from Buckbeak stripping apart his meal, Buffy and Harry looked round and found a scowling Ron Weasley, arms crossed and glaring at them from the doorway.

"H-hey, Ron," Harry greeted weakly. "What are you doing up here?"

"Mum sent me to find you," he answered sharply. "Suppers ready."

"Oh…uh, thanks."

"What are you doing up here?"

"Er…nothing, we were just, you know, talking."

"Why?" he asked abruptly.

"Why what?"

"Why would you two be talking?"

"Uh, well…"

Harry turned to look at Buffy, who locked eyes with him for a second, a flash of hurt springing into them at his lack of defense before she turned back to look at Buckbeak again. Her body now leaning away from him. Not really the best of signs. Taking a risk, Harry hesitantly turned back to look at Ron, who was now glaring harder than before. And then he had to face it. Rock. Harry. Hard place.

"Hey, Ron!" Fred exclaimed, slapping his brother on the back as he appeared beside him, before noticing the scowl that seemed to be permanent on Ron's face nowadays. "What's got your knickers in a twist this time?"

Before Ron could reply, Fred looked inside the room for the first time, and, much to his happy little heart, got his answer.

"Well, look at what we have here," he said, flinging an arm around his brother and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "We weren't interrupting anything were we?"

Harry's mouth had just opened, though unsure of what he was going to say, when Buffy suddenly rose to her feet and dusted off her jeans.

"Nope," she said carelessly. "Nothing at all."

"Are you sure? Because we could go and leave you two alone."

"Wouldn't make much of a difference," she grumbled, walking out of the room without a word.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is your fault?" Fred told Harry, raising an eyebrow at the now brooding wizard, but didn't wait for a reply as he soon followed Buffy out of the room.

And then there were two, but Harry seemed to be finding himself caring less and less about Ron's disapproval, especially with the way he had coward about Buffy's near rekindled friendship. And he really didn't feel like talking about it either.

"So, are you two friends now or something?" Ron asked, as Harry was about to pass him at the doorway.

"Or something," he clipped, pausing his steps.

"I don't believe this," he snorted, shaking his head. "First Ginny, and then Fred and George, and now you? It seems that I –"

"Ron, this isn't about you." Why was it so difficult for him to understand that? "Us being friends with Buffy is not an attack on you."

"Oh, so you are friends?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you?"

That was a very good question, and with recent actions on his part, one he didn't have an answer for.

"I don't know, exactly, but –"

"After everything I told you about Umbridge. What I overheard her telling Malfoy. You still think you can trust her?"

"I didn't say I trusted her."

"Do you?"

"No," he rushed out, a Freudian slip, but then second-guessed his own answer. "I mean, I don't…I don't know."

A floorboard suddenly creaked just a little below them, and startled, they turned toward the sound.

"Buffy," Harry said, surprised.

Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were wide with hurt. Apparently, she had heard everything.

"You know what," she said, regaining her senses. Boys. All of them useless. "Sweater's not even really all that important."

She was already down the stairs and out of sight before he could form a single word. Had she always been that fast?

Harry stood there, staring at the empty spot where Buffy had been. He was going to be apologizing to that girl for the rest of his life, wasn't he? It was always going to be one thing or another. Out of all the girls he had ever known, Buffy was the one he understood the very least. And as much of a headache as that was, he still stuck around. That couldn't be normal. But when exactly had he ever been normal.

Ron felt a tiny spark of shame and remorse at the expression on Buffy's face. There were those unwanted feelings again. She had to be doing something to him, a spell or curse or something. But whatever it was, it seemed his brick wall against her was beginning to crumble, shaking against those unwanted feelings, trying to keep them out. Which meant it wasn't as strong as it used to be. He had to do something about that. With a resigning sigh, he moved his eyes away from Buffy's now empty spot and settled them on the back of Harry's head. And now there was this dilemma. He didn't know how to feel about it. Buffy and Harry, friends? How long had that been going on? And why didn't Harry tell him? That's what really bothered him about this whole mess. And worried him as well. Fred, Ginny, and George all stated at one time or another that they had their reasons for trusting Buffy. Whatever they may be. But what about Harry? He said he didn't trust her. And it didn't take a genius to know…

"You can't be friends with someone you don't trust, Harry."

Ron didn't sound angry or even bothered. He merely sounded as though he were stating a fact. Which in this case, he was right. But that didn't mean he didn't have options.

"I can try."

"Have you even asked her about Umbridge?"

Harry turned around and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "No, I haven't."

"Figured you wouldn't," he snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"It means that you, Fred, George, and Ginny have a nasty habit of blindly turning the other cheek," he answered, frustrated. "It's like you've all forgotten the way she treated us. And I don't know, maybe she has changed, but does that mean we automatically forgive her for everything? Sweep the trouble she had gotten us into, the names she used to call us, the cruel way she had treated us, under the rug like it didn't matter? Not care that she's been spying for Umbridge? All of you act like…like all of that was okay. That any of that stuff doesn't matter!"

Harry stood quietly as he pondered the words. Were they really letting Buffy off easy? Ever since that first night in the infirmary it was like he had forgotten the way she had treated him. No, that wasn't right, it was more like he didn't care. It was like after what she had done for him in the Chamber remodeled how he felt. If only she hadn't made him promise not to tell anyone about it. Then maybe he would be able to make Ron understand. But what about Umbridge? There wasn't an excuse for that. A reason to understand why she had done it. They may be at odds right now, but Harry trusted Ron. He wouldn't lie. Not about something this crucial. But Harry couldn't escape the fact that he wanted Buffy as his friend, like she had been. Like he hoped she would be again. And once again he felt himself being torn. He should just split himself down the middle and get it over with.

"Look, Harry," Ron said calmly, noticing the expression on his friend's face. After what happened during the TriWizard Tournament, with Ron's unjustified anger towards Harry for being chosen, Ron wasn't about to let something like this come between them. Not when Harry had so much to deal with now and needed his friends the most. But that didn't mean he was going to stand by and let Harry get hurt either. "I don't trust her. I know what I heard. She said she was spying for Umbridge. She's been sneaking off with Malfoy. We don't know where she's been or why she came back. And there are still a lot of unanswered questions about why she was in the Chamber of Secrets. She never got a hold of the diary, and I don't believe what Dumbledore said. So, I guess…I guess what I'm telling you, is to be careful."

Ron needed Harry to understand. There were too many secrets surrounding Buffy. Too many cases against her. What if Harry became friends with her and ended up getting hurt because he refused to see that? Ron had already seen him betrayed by the too many people he had trusted. He didn't want to see it again. And he'd do anything to stop it if he could.

Ron was right, but there was that tearing feeling again. Harry had his own questions about the Chamber, and he had been down there. He never found out how Buffy had gotten there. How she knew what to do. And he didn't believe Dumbledore's story either about Buffy being possessed by Riddle's diary, just like Ginny had been. Something had happened to her, but whoever knew wasn't telling. And what about Umbridge? What about Draco? Why did she come back? Argh! There were too many questions. He really should split himself in half. Life would be so much easier that way.

And things didn't get any better because she wasn't at supper.

When Ron and Harry finally made their way into the kitchen, Buffy was nowhere to be found. Apparently, she had gone out with Tonks again. Though no one saw the Bubble-Pink haired witch seeing as she was supposedly waiting outside for Buffy. Which didn't sound like Tonks at all, but there wasn't really anything they could say about that. Especially since they knew exactly what the adults would say to them. Nothing.

Dinner came and went, and she still hadn't returned. Everyone was getting ready for bed and still nothing. Where had she gone off to?

Harry looked up immediately when he heard the doorknob jiggle. Held his breath when she slipped through the opening. And rose to his feet from the base of the stairway when she finally noticed he was there.

"Great," she mumbled to herself, closing the door quietly behind her.

Tucking a nonexistence stray hair behind her ear, she folded her arms over chest and walked closer to him. Seeing as he was near the stairs that lead to her soft, warm bed that would feel oh-so-good right about now.

He didn't know what to say. He could apologize, but for what exactly? For her overhearing what he had said? For not trusting her? Those weren't exactly the kinds of things apologies were made for. But as it turned out, he wasn't the first one to speak.

"You don't trust me," she stated, her voice hard and her eyes guarded.

"I want to," he admitted honestly.

She could see it on his face and hear it in his voice. He really meant it. But that didn't change how she felt. For some reason, after hearing his admission to Ron, the conversation in Buckbeak's room felt like a lie. Like he was only pretending to be her friend, because you can't honestly be friends with someone you don't trust. It doesn't work that way. And she felt played. Even used, like he was just being nice to her to ease his conscience.

"Yeah, well want isn't all that comforting."

He stood silent. She had a right to be angry, and he didn't feel right to apologize. It wouldn't be enough, and he knew that.

She shook her head and let out a humorless scoff of a chuckle at his silence, which was infuriating her even more.

"Why did you even talk to me, Harry? If you don't trust me, why were you even up there? Why did you try being friends again? Was it all some sort of game?"

"No!" he denied immediately. "That's not…I mean…I…"

"What?" she asked impatiently. "You what?"

He stood quiet again. He wasn't even sure why when the answer immediately came to him. Maybe it was getting the words out that was the problem. He was putting himself on the line again. But what else could he do now.

"I missed you," he admitted softly, and he saw her flinch back in surprise. "You…you understand. You listen. It's almost like you know what I'm going through. Everyone else – they say it'll be okay, and…but you understand. And I like knowing that. Knowing how that feels."

Two peas in a pod they were.

Geez! Why couldn't he have said the wrong thing? Why wasn't he arrogant and snobby and just…boy-like. No, he had to be honest and all open and all anti-boy-like. Which makes him harder to stay mad at. He always knows the right buttons to push without actually knowing it. Idiot. Stupid heart strings and their lack of resistance. Stupid…boys!

"I'm not spying for Umbridge," she said. Her voice no longer hard but gentle. What was the point in pretending to stay mad now? He was honest, now it was her turn. Stupid fair play. "What Ron heard was right, but it wasn't true. What I said about Umbridge, it was only a joke. I wouldn't spy for that woman if my life depended on it. But if I could get my hands on her…"

Harry smiled at the threatening venom in her voice and the tight clenching of her fists. No one can lie about that much anger.

"What about Malfoy?" he asked, forcing his voice to come out evenly.

"Draco's my friend, my closest even," she replied, a hint of a smile on her lips. And his stomach did a tight clenching of its own. "I've known him longer than you've known Ron or Hermione. He's just a fact of my life, and that's never gonna change. So…I don't know what any of this info does for you. If that changes anything. But it's the truth. All of it."

He assessed her. She wasn't stuttering or being fidgety. Her voice was calm and even. She wasn't lying. He would've known. But…there was still a but. She was honest about Umbridge and Malfoy, but what about everything else. She was still hiding something. She wasn't the same Buffy Summers he used to know. Something changed her. And something told him it was more than just life.

She was relieved when he nodded. He believed her. But she could see it. He still didn't trust her. Something was holding him back. But if he didn't ask, she wasn't going to tell. It would involve a lot of what she kept trying to forget, but her nightmares wouldn't let be. The past should remain closed, just like that stupid Chamber. But Voldemort just wouldn't leave her alone. Not in her dreams and definitely not while she was awake.

"You should've just told me," he said.

"You didn't ask," she replied defensively.

"Right. Guess I didn't."

It was awkward again. Tense, tired, oh so very tired. All around the Mulberry Bush, the monkey chased the weasel…

"Well…I'm beat," she lamely excused, languidly moving past him and toward the stairs. "Guess I'll just call it a night."

"Okay," he nodded, and then for a brief second looked at her with the strangest expression when she turned on the stairs to peer at him, but it was gone before it settled in her mind. Had she imagined it?

"Are you…?" she trailed away as she gestured up the stairway.

"In a bit, I'm just gonna get something to drink."

"Okay," she said, suspicion in her voice. She regarded him once as she went up the stairs, feeling his eyes on her the entire way.

Harry watched her until she was gone. Wondering if Buffy knew she had three large gashes on the back of her jacket.