My level of behind-ness cannot even be MEASURED, oh dear. Welcome to one of my cracker ships, btw.

It was way, way too hot, Max decided for the umpteenth time. He was a pale skinned blond, for heaven's sake. Well, he used to be pale. He'd spent the last two days turning different shades of pink and red. He'd never envied Ray and Tyson's darker skin tone before, but he really did now.

Hogwarts was sizzling in the grip of a heatwave, and everyone was suffering. Herbology lessons had become one of two horrors: moving hungry and dangerous plants to cooler areas, or unwillingly going into the tropical greenhouses and nearly dying on the spot. Care of Magical Creatures just involved pouring water down various creatures' throats, and eyeing it yourself longingly.

And it wasn't even just the outdoor lessons which were unbearable; their Quidditch practise had been cancelled tonight, since during yesterday's practise they had all been rendered virtually blind by a combination of looking into the sun and the haze rising from the ground. It had taken Tyson being knocked straight off his broom by a Bludger he didn't see for their captain, a snobby sixth year called Johnny, to finally accept defeat and say, yes, ok, let's call it a day. They'd all staggered to the changing rooms and sat there in soaking robes waiting for the energy to move again.

Normally the stone corridors of Hogwarts were the bane of the students' lives in winter, with older students casting mass Warming Spells and everyone carrying vials of Pepper-up Potions in their bags. However right now they were an absolute blessing. Ray had been late three times for Transfiguaration because he had accidentally sat down on his way to class and been too cool and comfortable to move again for a while.

Potions lessons were also reliably cool, but only Max really enjoyed those. Evreyone else paicked about their potions roo kuch.

All the same, he'd just sat through a long, loud letter from his mom about the value of Vitamin D, so he had begrudgingly got up from his seat in the common room and trudged outside, thinking optimistically that it couldn't be that hot at seven o clock in the evening, right?

Wrong. Definitely wrong.

He was aimlessly wandering near the lake, and trying not to look at it too much because the low sun reflecting off it was blinding. It was a distant dragon roar that made him look that way, since four years in Hogwarts had drilled into them to know where the two guard dragons were at all times.

The dragon was nowhere to be seen, but Max did see a boat set off from the shore, kind of where the side next to him would have been if the lake was a square and had sides. The glare was so bright that a silhouette was all he could make out. He looked away for a bit, to let his eyes recover, then looked back.

Ok, he couldn't be one hundred per cent certain but he was ninety nine per cent certain that the figure had green hair. That made him immediately identifiable to Max as Oliver: a Ravenclaw sixth year, with a love-hate relationship with Johnny, who had emerged from his fifth year Charms lesson on Colour-Change Charms with brilliant green hair and hadn't changed it since. He was also very good at Potions, and Max had occasionally run into him in the dungeons playing around with Potions in his free periods.

(The concept of having free periods still Max made very, very jealous. It would be a couple of years yet before he and the others hit sixth year and could plausibly just sit and relax in the middle of the day.)

Oliver was much more creative in his Potion-making than Max, who, as he always despairingly told Kenny, was just really good at following instructions. (Nobody knew why Kenny was so bad at Potions.) Oliver had been pretty nasty and patronising the first few times Max had met him down in the dungeons, but after Max had gritted his teeth and made a few good potions, Oliver had warmed to him.

Max might, potentially, have a slight crush on Oliver, but he was sure that would fade if he ignored it hard enough.

He squinted back out at the lake again. Oliver's boat had stopped, and the boy was standing up and looking around. Stupidly, kicking himself for it immediately, Max waved.

To his surprise and badly supressed happiness, Oliver saw him and waved back. His arm moved, Max couldn't tell more than that from this distance, but he must have cast a spell because next thing his voice came booming over the lake.

"I've got Gillyweed, so don't panic!"

Max had only just registered what Oliver had said – amplifying your voice like that led to weird echoes – when Oliver dived into the lake. Oh, ok. Fair enough; it was really, really hot and swimming seemed like a good idea. He was further out than most students went, though, since Professor Dickenson had warned them that the Scottish freshwater mermaids were not the harmless, attractive Muggle stereotype. Max had stayed away as a result, though he knew Ray regularly had a swim, because as much as he loved swimming he really didn't love the idea of being dragged under and dying, Ray, get out already!

So he was already watching the water where Oliver had dived with some trepidation. Then he remembered what Gillyweed did, and felt his heartbeat shift into a higher gear. Was Oliver mad? Gillyweed wasn't completely reliable – Max had heard too many horror stories. Did anyone else even know Oliver was down there? Was Max really the only person who knew that Oliver was god only knew how many feet underwater with unreliable gills?

Max sat and fretted and watched the water. The sun started to go down. Eventually Max checked his watch and realised with horror that the generally accepted limit for Gillyweed, an hour and a half, had passed, and there was no sign of Oliver. He stood up and stared across the lake. With the sun half gone, it was easier to see. The surface of the lake looked less inviting, though, which was just too bad because he already knew what he was going to have to do.

All opinions welcome

xIlbx