A/N: I finally realised it. I've gotten at least one review in nearly every story I've written saying that my grammar sucks, which isn't actually true and I couldn't find what they were talking about when I went over my writing. But I figured it out.

I'm Australian peoples. It means I spell 'Mom' like Mum and 'arse' like ass. Colour has a u, lots of my words have a u, so figure that out before you leave me a huge reviewing saying that I don't know how to spell. (Or I'll trolololol you, like I did to person-who-knows-that-I-mean-them.)

Learn how to read where it says Australia on my profile.

P.S Thank you anonymous reviewers. Usually I always send a personal message but none of you guys have an account so my response is at the bottom.

He was a magical fire

"Harry what happened?" Hermione exclaimed, jumping in the air, doing a triple-flip and landing gently on the cushion of the seat with her legs crossed and bouncy hair still . . . bouncing (it did that, sometimes Ron couldn't look away. He'd told Harry plenty of times, fearfully, curious and conspiratorially that he thought it was alive.)

Harry brushed closed fists over his eyes, getting all those beautiful, diamond encrusted tears off his cheek and onto another piece of skin. They glittered on his fists, dripping down.

If old Mrs. Malfoy (hiding in France at the moment) saw those shining drops of diamond, she'd probably get a hard-on (she really liked diamonds. Really. How do you think her husband convinced her to work for he-who-totally-got-owned-by-a-kid-twice.)

But we aren't mentioning hard-ons. Or thinking about them.

Cause they're dangerous.

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it," Harry cried which was a normal reaction because, as we all know, in both reality and Harry Potter World (which is real) alike, Harry has issues.

Some of those issues involve talking to people. About his feelings. Harry's not good with feelings.

He has them, he just can't quite communicate them. Probably because of his muggle relatives (who have the emotional range of a teaspoon) and all his mumbling and stumbling and cute hair flicks.

"Mate," Ron added in, conveying manliness and understanding in that one word. He was standing awkwardly beside Hermione, looking like he'd just been told he'd taken those valentines chocolates all over again and had confessed his love to the chick who'd tried to drug Harry. She's not important, she's just a stalker.

(She's outside Tower right now, licking up the tear drops left to dry on the stone floor. It's creepy, we're going away from this scene now.)

"I'm sorry, I just, I got upset."

The fire popped and sizzled and just generally did fire-like things. He'd been doing it for a quite a while, since 1437 (his predecessor had been hit with an ice spell by one Kanterberry Bucklace, an idiotic boy with a small mind and even smaller attention span.) He was a magical fire. He put a lot of effort into it.

Okay, away from the now-gendered fire.

"Well obviously Harry, you hit Draco." Smart, confident and easily rubbing circles on Harry's back, Hermione kicked Ron in the back of the knee, smiling gently as Ron collapsed and fell back on the seat.

Ron twittered some complaints and made awkward faces when Hermione hinted (quite obviously, Harry was crying not blind) that Ron should rub Harry's back as well. Ron, realising how much Hermione's control over his actions had increased because of their burgeoning relationship, did so.

Harry laughed, stopped crying and manned up. Cause it's what Harry did. He manned up. It was like, his thing.

He just wished his lower bit hadn't manned up before, he wouldn't be in this situation then.

"Would you like to tell us why?" Hermione added, not even glancing at Ronald who was poking the fire with the . . . poker (as it is so aptly named) because Ronald had a very short attention span, as Hermione and Harry knew very well.

Harry sniffled once more, blinked and apologized.

"Don't apologize mate. It's his fault, the bloody prat," Ron said, waving the poker around, spreading ash and hot coal all around the room. Lucky it was charmed to be fire-proof from years ago when a Gryffindor who was probably some relation to a Weasly had accidentally conjured a dragon and burnt down half the tower, even though there was no reason for them to be in this tower since it had pretty much been abandoned. Or maybe that was why he'd thought it was a great place to conjure a dragon.

"Ronald, how do you know that?"

It didn't matter. It was always obviously a Malfoy's fault and not Potters.

"What, are you defending him?"

Hermione glared, hair bristling (alive I tell you.)

"No, but he is different now, we all know that."

Ron scowled, poked the fireplace with his poker some more and Harry laughed.

"Harry? What's funny?" They both asked.

Harry brushed fingers through his luscious locks, fixed up his glasses and sighed happily. "Nothing, I'm just so happy we can be like this. After all of it."

The mood went sombre, the fire popped, crackled and hissed at Ron who was absently poking it and Hermione hugged Harry.

"Yes, I'm so happy too," she whispered, kissing her friend on the head. Ron watched, awkward, jealous and slightly turned on (not that he'd ever tell Harry that cause they were friends and he loved Hermione.)

Harry hugged her back, arms encircling her, nose pressed against her neck, smelling her sweet scent and the pumpkin juice that she'd been drinking.

Now Harry didn't like pumpkin juice. It was evil, it was vile. And no, even if he drank it in the boo- his past years, that doesn't matter because it's not like a certain author of a certain fanfic detests pumpkin with every fibre of her being cause it makes her physically retch has any impact on Harry Potter's sudden but understandable hatred of the evil vile pumpkin. It was added to his book of 'Vegetables and Fruits I hate.' (Because sometimes you're not sure if it's a fruit or a vegetable so he just added them together.)

So the sweet scent was sort of ruined by the pumpkin juice but Harry wouldn't tell Hermione that cause that was just silly. She'd start raving on about third world problems and how the children didn't even get to drink water, let alone pumpkin juice.

Well, what about first world problems? What about when he had to choose between his new firebolt or his sturdy, faithful but two years older one? What about that indecision and pain huh? What then?

Huh? Huh?

"I was thinking about The War," both Hermione and Ron shuddered, still broken, hurt and Ron sometimes swore he could hear Fred's laughter. "And I went to leave but he got in my way, and he wouldn't look at me so I got angry."

Which was sort of true, sort of. Harry wouldn't tell them, that yes, he had started off depressed and missing all the dead people but then he'd remembered Malfoy and how he'd saved him and then he remembered sixth year and how sexy he'd looked, crying over the sink in Myrtle's bathroom that he'd gotten hard and had to leave. Which was sort of sadistic of him to like the sight of Malfoy crying but we've already accepted that Harry's a little bit off-kilter. Why do you think him and Dumbly Dores go along so well? (Have you seen Dumble Dores doing his flamingo dancing? He even turned his beard pink to match.)

And then Draco, Malfoy, had knocked into him, refused to apologize or even respond when Harry asked if was okay and he'd snapped. He'd snapped because the boy had been ignoring him for the five months since The War had ended and their rivalry had been a big part of his life for so many years that he didn't know how to deal with this.

He hung out with Ginny but he and Ginny were still trying to cope with the after effects that they couldn't quite support each other, not the way Ron and Hermione did.

He loved her, he really did, just as she loved him. But he'd gotten hard, over Draco Malfoy (again) and it was really starting to piss him off.

Really.

Because he was so not gay. He was straight. Well, maybe bi-sexual. Or maybe he was just a horn-dog and those younger years where he'd received no affection had made him a hungry, hungry, emotionally-charged, skin-ship wanting whore.

He didn't like thinking of himself as a whore.

Dark red lipstick just didn't suit him. He tried it when he imagined himself as Dumbledore's exotic/flamingo dancer. It didn't work with the pink.

Ron scrambled over, placed a hand on Harry's knee and then hugged both of them, clearing his throat awkwardly. He let go after a few seconds and clapped his hands together.

"Well then, we're all good so can we go back to dinner now?"

Hermione let go of Harry, smacked Ronald over the head and started scolding him for breaking the moment and always being hungry.

It made Harry a little hard but he glared at his pants, threatening to think of Snape in a flamingo dancer outfit and it automatically shrivelled up in fear, crying that its master was so cruel. It made Harry feel like a boss, which he was.

Level up.

He really needed to get away from the flamingo dancing images.

"Is everyone okay?" Lavender Brown asked, biting her lip as she watched the Golden Trio bask in their awesomeness (well she'd just turned up out of nowhere and ninja-sneaked into Tower –Lavender doesn't want to talk about stalker-girl who was currently licking the floor.) Ron balked, still afraid of her, Hermione smiled sweetly (which was more like a smug sneer) and Harry waved like a little kid.

"Everything's good, Harry just got hard."

"What?" Harry screeched and everyone glanced at him like he was, well, Harry in weird mode.

"I said, you were just having a hard time," Hermione said slowly. "Dealing with everything."

"Oh, okay."

Lavender Brown twirled her hair in her hands, popped the chewing gum in her mouth (that totally wasn't there five seconds ago) and spun on her toes.

"Well, like okay. Everyone just wanted me to see if Harry-warry was okie-dokie," she said in sing-song voice, oblivious to Harry's twitch at his nickname. She skipped out, humming the theme song for the muggles show called 'Parry Hotter and that Dickface Voldy.' It was quite catchy.

So Lavender left but then Ron started whistling that theme song which was horrible cause it had been stuck in everyone's minds since Lavender had started humming it a month ago so Hermione smacked Ron again and then they proceeded to snog.

Harry didn't look away because there was nothing else interesting in the room and they weren't really hiding it.

And then the fire popped and a familiar face broke though.

Harry gasped, his throat dry and Ron and Hermione stopped snogging (Ron taking his hand away from Hermione's hair which seemed to have wrapped itself around his wrist, almost like a manacle and wouldn't Hermione make a good dom?)

"T-this isn't –"

"Possible," Hermione finished to Harry's stuttered words.

And Sirius' fire-face just grinned at them.

To Funny ha ha: Glad you like the first chapter and glad to know other people talk in the retarded way I sometimes do as well.

SoHardICried: Yay! You laughed out loud :D I hope you weren't on a train or something cause people look at you funny when you start crylaughing. And you've quoted your fav lines at me! That makes me so happy and I'm happy you get the humour. I feel like it's easy to get but I've been told that my mind is very different and sometimes others just aren't on the same level. Hope you liked this chapter.

Sandy: Oh, I trolled that troll back so hard that they cancelled private messages. It wasn't mean per say but it's one of the most enjoyable responses I've written. Glad that you liked the first chapter and love that you read other's reviews. I thought I was the only one who did that.