Chapter 17 – Do You Waltz?

"You want what?" Harry wasn't sure that he'd heard Hermione correctly.

"Could I borrow your mother's pendant? Oh, never mind…I know it's very important to you."

"Yeah, it is. What do you want it for?" Somewhere, the small advisor in his head warned him that he was being rude, but Hermione was letting him off.

"Well, you see, Ron gave me this one," she slid her own necklace with its elegant sapphire and setting from the neck of her robes. "I was just thinking that perhaps I might like to make one of my own, but…well, I'm having a bit of trouble." Hermione let her own necklace drop back into her robes, which was entirely too distracting. "Never mind, I understand, Harry; I really do. I'll get it figured out." She'd already turned to go when Harry stopped her.

"Wait!" He had his mother's pendant off and was reaching out before Hermione could turn around. "You're right, I mean, it is important…but it's you. Who can I trust, if not you?" The smile on Hermione's face as she took the pendant was nearly heartbreaking, and Harry silently cursed the world. Sometimes, it stunk to be sixteen.

"Thank you! I've done a whole handful; I know I'm so close!"

"Just so you make me one, when you get it figured out." Harry grinned in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. She smiled again, and he thought briefly of Parvati's words on the parapets of the Astronomy Tower.

"Yeah, well, anyway, I didn't mean to put you off."

"I totally understand," she repeated, looking at Lily Potter's creation with obvious respect. She moved as if to hug him, then thought better of it, and simply placed a hand on his shoulder, for which Harry was very grateful.

The next night, Harry found himself in another grueling Occlumency practice session.

"Defend yourself, Potter!" Professor Snape commanded, glaring at Harry, who returned the look as best he could. He'd come prepared today; he'd cleared his mind well before he'd ever come down to Snape's dungeon, and he was set to try something new. The customary football scores and plays played through his head; Harry regarded it as something of a warm-up, and traditional by now. From there he glared at Snape, and more specifically, at the gleaming reflection of the low hanging chandelier that shone in the Professor's glassy, black eyes.

He'd first tested his new method of Occlumency on Hermione, staring into her dark eyes in the flickering light of the common room until she noticed.

"What?" she asked. Harry remained silent, gazing through the glimmering reflection of the fire.

"Is something wrong?" Again, Harry ignored her, and she did him a favor by continuing to look directly at him. Eventually, she attempted to return to her reading, but Harry didn't stop, now in a tranquil state with a nearly blank mind. There was a thought somewhere far in the back of his head, something he couldn't identify, and within another few moments, even that vanished. The twinkling light danced, and Harry drifted further and further towards extinguishing every thing currently happening in his head. He had discovered several very important aspects of his form of self-hypnosis, but the most important in his book was the affect it had on his sleep; Harry hadn't slept so well in several years, and that alone was worth the time he'd devoted. Also, it did seem to help with his sessions with Snape. Unfortunately, he still hadn't figured out how to manage it along with anything that required any kind of concentration.

"Harry?" Finally, Hermione carefully shut the book she'd been working on. He heard her, but continued to focus on clearing his mind.

"Honestly! I know it's for the greater good, and all, but that's just plain creepy." She fled the common room, and Harry later congratulated himself for finally perfecting an Occlumency technique.

Snape's barely-moving lips brought Harry back to reality, though he hadn't been daydreaming or remembering anything so much as he'd simply shut his mind down for the duration of the exercise. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his chest.

"I said 'defend yourself', not 'clear your mind', Potter. How is it you are still incapable of following simple instructions after six years in this school?" Harry rubbed his side, finally realizing that Snape had just hexed him.

"Defend yourself does not mean 'ignore everything around you', Potter, unless you want to get yourself killed." The potions master grinned evilly. "If that is to be your goal, I assure you I would be most pleased in assisting you. You seem to have nearly infinite talent, in that regard."

"No sir." Harry knew better than to goad Snape on.

"Then perhaps you should at least pretend to make an effort. Now, defend yourself!"

The rest of Harry's lesson was an abject failure. He was totally incapable of producing more than a rudimentary defense against Snape's magical attacks, and didn't fare much better when it came to the actual mental attack. He left the lesson disheartened, the supremely satisfied look of smug content that Snape had been wearing burned into his memory far too persistently for his liking.

"S'no wonder Snape was unhinged," Ron said when Harry got back.

"Someone filched his wand and replaced it with a double." Ginny grinned malevolently but waited for Harry to urge her on. He obliged, desperate to hear anything about Snape getting pranked.

"I'm guessing it wasn't really just a fake wand."

"Oh, it wasn't," Ginny said. "The first time he tried to use it; it turned into this nasty smelly fish...it was horrid."

"How would you know it was the first time?" Hermione asked casually. Ginny just grinned and looked away in response.

It was fortunate indeed that Ron and Hermione were in a very good mood, and upon his return, took it among themselves to cheer him up. Ron introduced Harry to several of the Weasley Brothers' newest inventions, and for once, Hermione seemed content to let it go. She even laughed when Dennis Creevy sprouted long glider-like paddles from his fingertips and started floating around the common room. Fortunately for Dennis, he was only a few feet off the ground when the concoction wore off.

What really made the night bearable happened just before Harry was about to give up on the day and go to bed. He was asleep in his customary spot on the couch when he awoke groggily with the realization that Parvati hadn't yet come through. He thought for a moment that it may not be late enough, because it appeared that Hermione had fallen asleep next to him, where they'd been sitting when he'd drifted off. Hermione was very particular about people sleeping in the common room, and it occurred to Harry that this was a good occasion to serve her up some of her own medicine, but when his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he stopped. It wasn't Hermione next to him at all, but Parvati. She was breathing so silently that for a moment, Harry wondered if she was breathing at all. On the other side of her, Lavender was curled into a ball, with her head on the arm-rest of the sofa, and her mouth slightly open. She was snoring so softly that, had it been anyone next to her but Parvati, Harry probably wouldn't have even heard.

Harry couldn't think of a thing to say, so instead of working at it, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Parvati wasn't exactly all over him, but she wasn't off by herself either. He'd fallen asleep on the right side of the sofa, with his left hand at his side. He could feel the warmth of her leg against his arm and the back of his hand, but didn't dare move it, since he didn't want her to move at all. He leaned his head back against the high back of the sofa and closed his eyes, enjoying the faint smell of Parvati's perfume, which mingled interestingly with the lingering trace of sulfur and who-knew-what-else that the Weasley brothers' creations had left afloat in the common room.

Suddenly, he was aware of footsteps echoing through the common room. Harry had fallen asleep in the common room enough to know the routine the prefects followed. Hearing one now was nothing new.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd fallen asleep, or when he'd awoke to find Parvati next to him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed between when he'd realized it was her and not Hermione and now. He wasn't certain who was about to appear from the girls' dormitories, though he strongly suspected he knew who it was. What he was certain of was Parvati's arm around him, or at least behind him, and her body slumped against his. Summoning every bit of his willpower, he managed to stay relaxed. Parvati's hand was moving discretely between his back and the cushion of the sofa, and it was all Harry could do not to squirm. It felt very, very good. As the stealthy footsteps grew closer, the hand dipped out from behind him for just a second, and then slid back to where it was; only now he could feel the solid form of a wand slipping upwards across his back. Parvati slid her hand up to his shoulder, and let the wand lie along the back of his arm, out of sight to anyone in front of them, but readily available in an instant. Harry found his respect for her was growing by the moment.

Fortunately, he'd fallen asleep with his glasses on, and if he opened his eyes just a crack and peeked through the fringe of his eyelashes, he could just see the instantly recognizable form of Hermione. She was silhouetted in the final glow of the dying fire; a glow that would not have even been visible had the room not been devoid of any other light. She paused, taking in the sight before her, and Harry would have given ten galleons to know what was on her mind at that very moment. Finally she moved forward, and he readied himself to act the part of someone who'd been deep in sleep and hastily awoken.

Instead, Hermione leaned over Parvati's left shoulder and whispered in her ear, a whisper that was betrayed by the absolute silence of the common room.

"Parvati? Come on now, you have to get up…come on."

"Ohhhh?" Parvati paused sleepily, and then snuggled closer to Harry, which made it harder than ever to remain calm. "Lemme be…"

Harry knew that his pretending had probably never fooled Hermione in his entire life, and had he not known for a fact that Parvati was awake and totally aware, he'd have sworn to anyone who would listen that she was as deep in dreams as anyone ever got. In Harry's mind, she deserved an award.

"You can't stay here," Hermione whispered. "It'll be morning soon." There was a long pause, and Harry could almost feel Parvati craftily counting off the seconds.

"It's too early. Give me just a little while."

"Come on, now, you know you can't be down here when people start showing up." Parvati snuggled closer to Harry, and he began to have very difficult time concentrating. Almost automatically, he slipped into an Occlumency exercise, and it seemed to help some. Overall; he wasn't sure if he wanted to clear his mind. It felt good, he decided, to be used as a cushion.

"That's ages away," Parvati said quietly. Hermione deftly switched gears.

"Think of what they'll say about Harry. I don't really have a problem with you…two…but think of what some other people might say. You of all people should know how dreadfully people can misuse gossip." There was a very long silence before Parvati replied. There was no longer any trace of sleep in her voice; she'd either given up pretending, or figured it was safe to be awake now.

"It's not fair," she whispered. "To Harry, I mean; it's not fair he's held to higher standards than everyone else."

"I know," Hermione replied.

"He's not even able to turn around without someone talking about it."

"I know," Hermione said again.

"And they're never going to leave him alone."

"I know," Hermione sighed one last time, and extended a hand. Harry couldn't actually see Parvati without tilting his head, but he could feel her every move, as she was now quite firmly ensconced against him. He could feel her stretching up, and then the barest flash of heat on his neck as she kissed him. He found himself wishing that he'd slouched over at some point, so she could have managed his lips, but thrust the though to the back of his mind. It was something to be savored at a time when he wasn't doing his best to fool his best friend and a girl who he was starting to feel very strongly could be much, much more.

From through the veil of his eyelashes, Harry could feel more than see Parvati take Hermione's hand, and then he was alone.

"Lavender," Hermione whispered.

"You're wasting your time there," Parvati said quietly. Harry couldn't see them anymore, and he was straining to hear every detail. "Come on, grab a hand." There was a pause, two nearly silent grunts of exertion, and then the three girls passed in front of Harry.

"She'll do anything in her sleep," whispered Parvati to Hermione. "Thank goodness no one knows about that, or we'd have boys lined up from here to Liverpool trying to find a way up those stairs."

"Mmmmkay…" a sleepy Lavender murmured, following obediently. When he was quite certain they were gone, Harry shuffled up to his waiting bed and smiled to himself as he slipped into a deep and refreshing sleep, and when he awoke later that morning, the smile was still there.

The next day was a Saturday, and it was highlighted by a very tight Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Next to Harry, Hermione poured over notes, only occasionally looking up at the action when it became apparent through Owen Cauldwell's manic announcing that something really big was about to happen. She was using the quill he'd found her, and looked to be transferring notes from a nearly packed journal to one of her books.

"Only Hermione would take notes during a Quidditch match," Ron said, poking the book without tearing his eyes away. Up until then, Harry would have sworn that Ron didn't notice, but apparently he wasn't totally oblivious. Hermione shot Ron a half-hearted glare, and Harry took the opportunity to glance over her shoulder at the tightly packed writing and carefully sketched diagrams.

"Wolvesbane potion? What's that for?" Hermione turned from Ron to Harry, opening her mouth as if she was about to speak, but nothing came out.

"Wolvesbane potion," Ron echoed, finally looking at them. "What gives, Hermione? What're you up to? Do you know something we don't?"

Hermione diverted her attention back to Ron. "Hardly," she said, after a second. "This is my potions project."

Ron shook his head. "Potions assignments during a Quidditch match…what's this world come to?"

"You don't understand how much work is involved," Hermione replied wearily.

"Harry's in it; and you don't see him wasting a perfectly good day!"

Harry had to agree, but he wasn't about to ruin his perfectly good day by saying so. Hermione seemed about to continue when she realized that neither boy was paying her further attention, and turned back to her notes with a muffled "hrumph!"

She had been right about one thing: Voldemort's recent silence had an anesthetic quality on the entire school, and many students found themselves almost deliriously happy with the slightest provocation.

Provocations were in high supply, since apparently Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was dedicated to producing an unstable aura of amusement at what had just happened to your friends, and anticipation as to exactly when and where it was going to get back to you.

Harry mulled things over in his head, as he subconsciously scouted both teams, judging their flying, their Quaffle handling, their defense, and the hundred other things he'd managed to pick up on over the years. The two teams managed to match each other goal for goal, until Cho Chang made what Harry considered one of her finest catches while Ravenclaw was ahead by one, to win the match three hundred to one hundred forty. The stands were evenly divided, since this year looked to have one of the most heavily contested Quidditch Cups in recent history. With Slytherin and Gryffindor both losing a serious amount of talent, the cup looked to be up for grabs and within reach of everyone.

Yet in spite of the almost festive occasion, Harry Potter had something on his mind. It was frightening, but he knew he had to do it, and he had to do it soon. Deep down inside, he knew that the longer he put it off, the less prepared he would be, and the more other people would suffer. Harry Potter had to learn how to dance.

He awoke early the next morning with a start. Something very faint was tickling his nostrils. His wand was under his pillow, so he stealthily cast a silencing charm on the area around his bed and sat up as slowly as he could, peeking from the tiny crack in his curtains. Unfortunately, his spectacles were still on the bureau top next to his bed, and he was hard-pressed to make out a thing.

Harry took a deep breath, and pounced from the bed, bashing his head quite severely on the frame from which the curtains hung, which created a personal and surprisingly vibrant display of fireworks. Unlike the rest of the world, they were perfectly in focus. Harry stumbled forward and dropped to his knees. Across from him, Ron's head poked out from between his bed curtains.

"Are you okay," he asked quietly, trying not to wake up the rest of the room.

"Yeah," Harry managed to mumble, though his voice sounded as if it was echoing back to him from somewhere far away.

"Right," Ron whispered, uncertainly. "You've probably gotten yourself another concussion. What's gotten into you, mate?"

"I thought I smelled something burning, near my chest of drawers."

"Oh, really?" Ron hopped from his bed, being overly careful to give the curtain-fame a wide birth, to Harry's annoyance. They stood side-by-side, looking at the top of Harry's bureau. With the tip of his wand, Harry nudged his stack of Chocolate Frog Cards to the side. Beneath it, fresh words were inscribed, the scarred wood nearly glowing white in the bright early morning sun. Harry ran his fingertips over them as Ron bolted to Connor's bed, standing before the curtains and carefully prying them apart with the tip of his wand, as if he didn't want to get too close.

"Still warm," Harry said.

"Empty," Ron replied. He and Harry dashed to the windows, which commanded a fair view of two sides of the castle. Far off, near the edge of the forbidden forest, four tiny figures ran. One was large, and the other three tiny. Two of the smaller runners were golden haired, and one looked as though her head might actually be trailing flames. It didn't take a great deal of intellect to determine who they were.

"I suppose that rules them out," Harry said, after an awkward silence.

"This time," Ron added. Harry shook his head, but didn't say anything. He had quite a bit of work to accomplish today, and he didn't want to start it off wrong.

After a leisurely morning meal, he returned to the common room with one of Hermione's special books. It was the one he'd used to copy the volumes the original Marauders had created in their quest to become animagi, and he was hoping to discover a potion or two which would meet the requirements for his year-long project. Though he was loathe to admit it, Hermione had been right the day before: Time would only grow more scarce, and though there were many things with which he could procrastinate, potions was not one of them. By noon, he had narrowed down his possible candidates to a binding potion and a stabilizing potion. As he was mulling them over, Hermione plopped down beside him, cradling several large books in her arms.

"What do you think, Hermione?" She peered at his notes.

"Hmm…The stabilizing potion would be significantly harder to properly test. It looks as if the binding potion would be somewhat harder to make, but at least you'll know if you're doing it right." She paused, squinting at the notes. "Something's missing, though."

"What do you mean? This came straight from Lupin."

"I don't doubt that, but still…if you make it like this," she tapped the book softly and trailed off.

"What do you suppose it's missing?"

"I couldn't tell you…It looks as if there's a step missing here, you see?" Hermione pointed to the list of procedures near the end. Harry didn't notice anything wrong, but then, he wasn't half of what Hermione was when it came to potions. "I'll have to think about it, but I'm nearly certain it's incomplete. Perhaps you should ask Professor Snape."

"Yeah, right."

"He is the local expert."

"If I can't figure it out…perhaps. We'll see." Harry looked to the books Hermione had.

"Memory magic? Working on your pendent again?"

"Yes…I've found something…interesting; I'm trying to sort it out. Do you mind if I hold onto your mother's necklace for a few more days?" Harry smiled and waved his hand.

"Take as much time as you need," he said. Hermione smiled back and turned to her first book, which had several ribbons marking pages throughout, and Harry turned back to his potions assignment. He had been making a genuine attempt at doing better this year, and had the copious notes to prove it, but he still couldn't determine what Hermione had seen. He paged back and forth through the volume Remus had given him, and then through his potions texts, but simply grew increasingly frustrated. Finally he gave up and sidled up to Connor.

"I want you to teach me to dance."

"Dance…how?"

"Uh, I don't know. The normal way, I suppose?"

"Okay, uh, so, what's the normal way over here?" Connor was looking at him as though he were crazy, which wasn't, Harry thought, the first time.

"You know...you have a girl you want to impress, and you have to know how to dance…that kind of dancing," he said.

"That's not really my bag, man. I fly solo."

"I thought it was what you did? Dance." Connor took a deep breath.

"There are different kinds of dancing, Harry. Just because I can do one kind doesn't mean I can do the other." Seeing the look on Harry's face, he added, "let's see what I can do." They went over some basic steps. Harry showed Connor some of the dance they'd been expected to do in his fourth year. He started off being the teacher, but after a half-hour, Connor had picked it up and was giving him tips. A half-hour after they started a voice spoke out that startled him so much he almost drew a wand on her.

"Getting on with my boyfriend?" Natalie McDonald stood in the darkened doorway, her lithe frame a shadow and the mass of hair a halo of complete darkness. "I suppose he can dance a little," she said. "Nothing like me."

"Is that a fact?" Harry asked, uncertainly. Natalie responded by holding her arms out. Harry took them, the way he'd been shown two years ago. It soon became obvious that Natalie was an outstanding dancer. She'd glide across the room without any apparent effort.

"Honestly, you need to lighten up. We're called girls. Get used to having to touch us sometimes." She stepped sideways, into a startled Connor's arms. Conner managed to avoid looking too foolish, and easily wrapped his arm around her. She immediately launched into all sorts of complicated spins and delicate footwork.

"You're doing a waltz, Harry, not taming a yeti. You don't have to be nervous all the time." She continued to spin around the room with Connor, shouting all sorts of things out. "Look at how loose he is. Look at how his feet move. Look at where he has his weight shifted." Harry tried to make mental notes of everything she said. After twenty minutes they had worked up a light sweat and Harry was numb in the head.

"I think that's enough for the day," Natalie said. "Same time tomorrow?"

The next day was a Wednesday, so Harry had Charms and Muggle Studies to look forward too. He was doing well at charms, and Professor Flitwick had cheerfully exempted him from the physical part if a final project, since he could already perform both the sigillum and patronus charms, which were N.E.W.T. level, easily. He still had to do a report, but he had already done the work for both, and as today was set aside for choosing a subject for the massive project, he found himself with almost an entire class-full of spare time. Hermione had been informed that she could use one of her galleons or magic books as a final project, but as it had caused her to become so irate, Flitwick had finally relented and suggested that if she managed to create a pendant similar to Lilly Potter's, she use that. The idea seemed to mollify her, and she spent the entire class period working on the report to document what she had done so far. Halfway though the class, Professor Flitwick managed to wander over to Harry's desk, where he carefully placed Lilly's gloves on the table.

"Are they safe to touch?" Hermione asked, looking up from her furiously scribbling quill. She continued to write in neat, cramped lines, as if doing it without looking was second nature to her.

"Quite," Professor Flitwick pronounced.

"So uh, what do they do then?" Harry asked. Flitwick grinned up at them.

"It took me a very long time to figure out. Sometimes young Potter, what we are certain of can catch up with us in the end."

"Huh?" said Harry, who still wasn't quite grasping it.

"I started with the most reasonable enchantments…warming charms, everyday enchantments, because they seemed the most reasonable. Failing to find those, I moved on to the less likely ones…the harder charms like anti-fumbling enchantments, dexterity enchantments, and the like." He waited for Harry to respond. When he got the slight nod he was looking for, he continued.

"I couldn't understand it. Then I started in looking for curses, though I know your mother would never do that, or get caught up in someone else's tricks…I was certain I was missing something.

"After weeks and weeks I went back to the beginning, and started it as I had been taught to. And after the most elementary of detection spells; something a forth-year would know, I discovered their secret."

Hermione had leaned over her desk now; this was the kind of story that held her complete attention. She had even stopped writing. On Harry's other side, Parvarti was even gazing at the gloves with a curious gleam in her sea-green eyes.

"Can you guess what that charm was?" Flitwick asked. Harry shook his head, but Hermione looked as if she had just eaten something that tasted exceptionally foul.

"Eccletus?" she asked. Harry vaguely remembered that spell. They had done it at least once or twice a few years ago.

"Eccletus. A spell so simple and powerful it does only one thing; it detects the presence of magic. Of course it's where I should have started."

"You mean…" Harry began. Professor Flitwick nodded furiously.

"You know," said a soft voice behind them, causing all three of them to jump, "I'm reminded of a little trick I learned from a Muggle solicitor some time back," Dumbledore said. "If people think that something is on your mind, they try to imagine what it is. It puts them on edge, as it were. There are a good many differences between our world and theirs, but human nature stays the same, regardless of where you put it. As much as the Muggles could learn from us, we could learn from them. After all, look at some of the silly things they've had to invent in lieu of having no magical talent!"

"Indeed," agreed Flitwick enthusiastically. "It just goes to show that all of us occasionally fall into the same trap…"

"You get so consumed trying to figure out if the star is red or blue that you forget to ask whether it's even a star," Parvati murmured.

"Oh! Nicely phrased, Miss Patil!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Did you need something, Professor?"

"Yes, Filius," Dumbledore began. "I was wondering if perhaps…" He moved out of range, and Harry looked back and forth from Parvati to Hermione, and then to the gloves. The two girls weren't hostile, but shared a sort of awkward bond. They didn't chat much and Harry honestly didn't mind.

He was at the same time exited and afraid to spend a class with Parvati without Hermione, though when he did, it was surprisingly difficult to talk to her. He found himself unable to say anything, though she wasn't urging him on. He did manage to go the whole time without being yelled at by the professor, a rarity lately. Lavender, whose entire purpose in life seemed to revolve around becoming the central repository for knowledge on all things socially significant, prattled on happily, with both Harry and Parvati inserting the odd "ah," or "oh," or "and you say it will grow back?" Harry hadn't become that much closer to her, in spite of having her in class all the time and perusing a romantic relationship with her best friend. She seemed happily oblivious to the stained silence between Harry and Parvati, so Harry judged that it couldn't be as bad as it seemed. Although she seemed like a gossiping airhead, she was remarkably astute at noticing which girls were flashing glances at which boys, and which boys were returning them. She hadn't said anything at all about Harry and Parvati, but Harry figured that was because Parvati had enticed her into staying quiet somehow, and not because she hadn't noticed. She was far too keen on the affairs of others to have missed that.

"Are you going back to the common room, Harry?" Parvati gazed at him with huge gleaming eyes, and it was several moments before he remembered to answer.

"Ah…I have this thing to do. In a half-hour, perhaps."

"This thing?" Lavender asked, suddenly aware. "What do you mean, this thing?"

"Just…this thing." Harry answered. Parvati nodded and pulled back her books, which she had been about to hand to him. He felt bad, somehow, that he wouldn't be able to carry them.

When class had ended, he ran to the empty classroom where Connor and Natalie were supposedly teaching him how to dance. They were already twirling around the floor and looked slightly unhappy that Harry had interrupted.

"Today you just work on feeling the beat," Connor said. "I want you to step in circles with the beat or the music no mater how it changes."

"In fact," Natalie said, holding up her wand, "I want you to do this." She held her hand aloft, and a shower of smoke and sparks drifted from her wand and hung in the air. "When the music stops, tap out the rhythm, how you think it should go." They started with a very simple, slow song, and by the end, Connor had worked through a small stack of records, and Harry wad to struggle to keep up.

"That's enough for the day," Connor announced, looking into the hallway.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful…" Harry started.

"But?"

"But will I be doing the same dance all night? How did spinning in a circle faster and faster help me?"

"No matter the step, you'll have to move your feet to the beat, right?"

"I guess so."

"So now you have proven to yourself that you can hear the beat. You don't have a reason to not move to it."

"But what if I take the wrong step?"

"We'll work on that later," Natalie said. "First things first, Harry."

Back in the common room, Harry slumped onto a lounge next to Parvati and Lavender. She wasn't as close as she had been when he had fallen asleep next to her, but she was close enough. He closed his eyes lazily and was nearly asleep when a voice spoke from in front of him.

"Snakeroot."

"Wha?" he managed, groggily, his potions book falling to the ground. Hermione handed him a slip of paper. On it was on word : snakeroot.

"Connor came up with it…I don't know why I didn't think of it first. What kind of potion is that?" It took Harry several moments to realize she wasn't being rhetorical, and expected an answer.

"A…a binding potion?"

"A binding potion," she agreed. "And what was missing was something to stabilized the blood in a more or less human form." Parvati was watching this entire exchange lazily, but Harry got the feeling she was keenly interested for some reason.

"Potions," he said to her, and she nodded distractedly and turned back to her book, the astronomy text. She'd bought one of Hermione's incredible books, though as near as Harry could tell, it was still entirely devoted to the stars.

"We should get working on that tonight."

"But I have...potions tonight!"

"Have you read how long that potion takes to make?"

"A month. It says it has to be made on a new moon and season a month. I have plenty of time. Anyway, we can't even start on it until next year."

"You can't start on the potion until next year, you can start on the report any time. Anyhow, it will take at least a month for the first part. Didn't you read the whole thing?"

"Of course I did!" Harry was certain that Hermione knew he had done no such thing.

"Then you'd know the first stage alone is what takes a month. It's a four-stage potion and the rest will take at least two weeks, since you can only do it in class."

"I…know," he protested feebly.

"Of course you do. And since you've figured that out, you'll know that if you mess it up and have to start over, even just once; it could take you into March just to get started again."

"I know!" Leave it to Hermione to spoil a perfectly good day.

"We should probably get started on it tonight then. Say seven, in the library? And bring lots of parchment. You know how long the report needs to be." Harry glanced at Parvati. A sort of unspoken relationship had developed between them, and while it was still very casual, they had been spending an awful lot of time together. She still hadn't agreed to go to the ball with him, in so many words, but Harry had heard from Ron, who had heard from Ginny, who had heard from Luna, who had overheard Padma and Parvati talking together when Terry Boot had asked her to the dance. The word was that she had politely declined, and said she already had a date. Whether that was true or whether she was only saying it so as not to hurt Terry's feelings was anybody's guess.

"If you have that much to do you should probably get started," she said softly, "I have a report that isn't due until next Friday; I suppose I could run through it." She flashed Harry a wide smile and he returned it, feeling that he was grinning like an idiot. Ron walked in through the portrait hole; hands in his pockets, with the distinctive jingling of coins rang through the common room.

"Little sis," he paused next to Ginny, who had been talking with Vicky. Ginny glanced up with a questioning look on her face. Ron plopped down a healthy-sized stack of coins.

"Your allowance...don't go spending it all in one place." The look on her face was one of stunned disbelief. Vicky craned her head around to stare at Ron curiously. She obviously knew something of the Weasley's financial situation, even if she didn't know the particulars.

"What...what is this?" Ginny finally managed.

"The fruits of my labors...I've worked long and hard for that, so treat it with some respect."

"The fruits...Ron, there wouldn't even be weeds of your labors...you haven't done any labors."

"Such a rude thing to say to your big brother Gin...very rude. I hope you spend some of that on lessons for some manners."

"Lessons? I'll show you lessons..." Ron didn't take the bait, and he ambled over to Harry's side, still jingling the coins in his pocket.

"Well, hello then," he said casually.

"Ronald...what's is going on?" Hermione was looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm glad you asked. You know how you've been on me to 'take initiative'? That's exactly what I've done."

"What...by hustling some poor fourth years in chess again?"

"You might be surprised to know that I have recently procured the contract for exclusive franchise rights to Hogwarts, for a certain novelty company." Ron had never used words like procured or exclusive in his entire life, and Hermione was reduced to staring at him, squinting as if she was trying to figure out where the real Ron had gone to, and who this obviously polyjuiced wizard in front of her was. After a moment, she abruptly replied.

"Right. Fine. Just don't be late tonight or I may change my mind."

"You can bet I won't be. In fact," he held out a handful of coins. "D'you wanna bet?"

"Goodbye Ron!"

"What is going on?" Harry asked quietly. Ron glanced around, looking for eavesdroppers. Seeing none, his hand darted inside his robe. He withdrew and ordinary-looking owl's feather quill. By this time, Parvati was deep in conversation with Lavender, and no one was really paying attention to Harry and Ron. Ron handed the quill over gingerly. Harry stared at it.

"What's this?"

"Go ahead," said Ron, indicating that Harry should try it out.

"I'm...I'm not sure I want to," said Harry, nervously.

"It's not that kind of novelty. Honestly, mate, would I use it on you if it was? Dean maybe..." Harry laughed and dug the scrap of parchment that he'd been using as a bookmark from the potions text. It already had some writing on it, but it was old and faded.

"What should I write?"

"Anything. Something simple," said Ron with a smirk. Harry thought for a moment.

My name is Harry Potter, he began, I live in Surry. He mouthed the words silently to himself. On parchment, the words came out normal-looking, but the lines almost immediately rearranged themselves: Je m'appelle Harry Potter the quill wrote, Je habite à Surry. Harry paused, and shook it as if it was a Muggle pen that was running out of ink.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Ron said, smiling broadly.

"What's it say? I don't speak whatever that is."

"I think it's Italian. It's supposed to translate for you."

"Except knowing Fred and George it's likely written something about me being a trout named Harry Potter, and I pee on Surrey."

"Naw," Ron exclaimed. "Well, yeah...I suppose that's a possibility. They did say not to give the black-tipped ones to anyone you fancy." Harry glanced at the quill. The last bit of the rather mundane feather was grey. He took that to mean it was one of the relatively safe ones. "All I can tell you is that they are selling like kettle cakes. I've only got three left, including that one, and I started off this morning with a dozen. Fred and George say something bigger is right around the corner."

"Neville could write to his pen pal in Spanish with one of these."

"Never thought of that," Ron said. "If you can trust Fred and George. I sure wouldn't...once you live in the same house with them...did you know once they charmed the trash bin to have indigestion? You had to mind it, because if you gave it something too spicy, it would spit up on you." Harry stifled a laugh. Ron glanced sideways at him. "Sure...you can laugh...anyway, I always just assumed people would sneak them in with your regular quills."

"What's this 'something big' going to be?"

"Dunno, they wouldn't tell me. These net me a sickle a piece though. You know what that means, don't you?"

"What's that?" Harry asked. Ron punched him on the arm.

"It means I hope you still have my bloody quill; I'm buying it back."