AN: Thanks for your patience! Sorry for the long wait, but here's a long chapter (almost 12k words) as a present. My sweet children had some new health challenges this year that made creativity hard. I hope you've all had a wonderful holiday season! No Beta on this one as I feel bad bothering them after all this time and I don't want to make you wait longer for this anyway. Thus all mistakes are very much mine. Enjoy!


Whispers in Her Hair

by Indygodusk


Chapter 21: Second Year - PR & the Return of Good Things


Harry stomped away from the infirmary with hands clenched by his sides, denied again. He hadn't seen Hermione since he'd left the infirmary with Dumbledore two weeks ago. Madame Pomfrey wasn't letting anyone in to see the petrified students—not even Harry! Never mind that Hermione wasn't even petrified anymore or that Harry had been the one to end the Basilisk threat and make the school safe.

Someone had tried to sneak into the infirmary to get photos of the petrified students to sell to the press, leading Madame Pomfrey to set up wards and ban everyone from visiting, even him! Hermione wasn't petrified, but was still kept in the back room for some reason. Ginny had been released—and she'd been the one helping Tom attack everyone! So why not Hermione? Considering the lengths Harry had gone through to save everyone, wasn't it obvious he wasn't a threat? He just wanted to see and talk to his friend, but Pomfrey wouldn't budge. She'd even managed to set things up so the ward on the door kept out people in invisibility cloaks. It was totally unfair.

Just this morning, two different people had passed him rumors that the petrified students had been kidnapped to be sold on the black market as curiosities, which he'd scoffed at until a fourth-year Gryffindor at lunch started telling anyone who'd listen that she'd peeked through the open door and found only empty cots stripped of their sheets. He had a right to be worried!

Despite that, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even let him ask about it, kicking him out as soon as she spotted him and telling him not to come back unless he'd grown an extra limb or was vomiting feathers. It was completely unfair! Considering the fact that Hogwarts had almost shut down and several students had almost died gruesomely, only for everything to be saved at the eleventh hour by the brilliance and heroism of Slytherins like himself, you'd think there'd be a little more gratitude going around amongst the staff of Hogwarts in general for the House of green and silver and in particular for one Harry Potter.

Not so.

When he'd first rejoined the school after leaving the infirmary, none of the Hogwarts staff had been very effusive in their thanks. Most had either scolded him, weakly thanked him without looking him directly in the eyes, or just avoided him altogether. Blaise claimed it was due to their collective guilt at being completely useless and being shown up and saved by kids.

If that was true, then guilt just made Snape weirder. Harry's head of house ping-ponged between proud, punishing, and apathetic with no rhyme or reason for which persona he'd pick. One moment he'd be slipping Harry treats and patting him on the back, quietly praising him for being savvy enough to both survive a monster and save his friends, and then he'd become almost maudlin, going glassy-eyed and murmuring about Harry, "being a survivor," only to start scowling and ordering Harry to scrub cauldrons while calling him a dunderheaded glory-seeker who deserved to have died, before falling into brooding and banishing Harry from his sight, looking through him without acknowledging for the next day or two.

At least the students had been almost nice to him and the rest of Slytherin House for the first few days. Then they'd reverted back to their natural state of being sanctimonious, judgemental, and rude. Harry didn't expect bowing and fawning, but not cutting him off when he spoke, not shoving him in crowded hallways, and not stealing the last piece of treacle tart before it was all gone wouldn't go amiss for someone who'd almost died saving their fellow students and the school, is all he was saying. A thank you from the students who'd vilified him would be nice too, but he hadn't been holding his breath. It was irritating.

Or so he'd thought at first. He'd since changed his mind.

The future leaders of the Wizarding World currently incubating in Slytherin House were not about to let the social capital he'd created go to waste. He couldn't even entirely blame them since he'd been the one to plant the idea in their heads in the first place with all his speeches before he'd gone down into the Chamber. He just wished they'd have given him a heads-up about their plans. (Maybe this was a life lesson about keeping things more secret. That or else getting out ahead of his own press.)

One morning he woke up to a stack of mail taller than his head, mysterious best friends popping out from behind empty suits of armor, and a new narrative on everyone's lips. They were all talking about the story of a deadly Basilisk menacing Hogwarts—only for the school to be saved at the last minute by The Boy Who Lived and the Slytherins Who Saved. It exploded in the worldwide press.

He regretted his former complaining bitterly. A little rudeness and a stolen tart or two wasn't really all that bad in the grand scheme of things. With Slytherin's PR geniuses in charge, public attitudes flipped away from rude, blew past friendly, and settled on uncomfortable hero-worship and greed. Harry went from a boy in charge of his own destiny to a pawn in a gilded paper crown. Everyone wanted to use him to get ahead. It made his skin crawl.

For example—

"Hello, Harry!" chorused a group of girls in the courtyard as he passed by, making him jump and clutch his book to his chest. Sunlight glinted off the glass marbles at their feet and the shiny clips in their hair. They'd paused their game and were all staring at him expectantly, barely blinking. It reminded him of a picture he'd seen once of a river in the American South at dusk, full of pinpricks of light reflecting off the eyes of dozens of hungry alligators otherwise hidden beneath the surface of the peaceful-seeming water.

It made him feel hunted.

His feet itched. He fought to keep his pace steady and tried not to gulp or sweat too obviously. He was pretty sure that girls in packs could smell fear. It just made them bolder. Harry gave them a weak wave, reminding himself to smile. If he destroyed Slytherin's current popularity around school by being rude or scowling, his housemates would beat him up, humiliate him, and then suggest Snape pull him aside for a private lecture on being a true Slytherin. Again.

Ugh, no thanks.

Life could always, always, get worse, though Harry wasn't sure how much more of this publicity he could take. It hadn't been that bad at first, he thought now with nostalgia. At first, people had been their usual rude, idiot selves. He was used to that.

Now that the movers and shakers in Slytherin started leveraging the situation both inside and outside of Hogwarts, the situation felt completely out of his control. The Daily Prophet had published a picture on the front page with all of Slytherin House—Harry and Valeria in the front though she'd refused to stand next to Harry or do anything but scowl—posing on the front lawn of Hogwarts surrounded by transfigured roosters. Harry had even gotten to make one this time (though he refused to admit which one since it barely looked like a bird and he was afraid that Professor McGonagall would call him out on it). Professor Snape, unable to decide whether to be more proud or irritated, kept grimacing and twitching in the photo like he had to run to the bathroom. It was hilariously unflattering to Snape, which made Harry almost forgive the fact that he looked stupid in it too.

Students in the other houses were openly envious that they'd gotten a picture in the paper. A few merely gave Harry grudging nods of thanks for saving them, which he grudgingly returned. That wasn't too bad. Some even avoided him, which was great. The remaining students were the problem, the ones suddenly trying to get close and pretend to be his friends while asking offensive questions and outlandish favors.

What really kicked off the craziness in the female population was when Pansy got a letter published in Witch Weekly about saving the day by teaching everyone her mirror charm. Slytherins who hadn't even been in the dining hall that day started giving interviews to anyone who'd listen, taking credit for saving the school with their brilliance and talking Harry up to cling to his coattails instead of throwing him under the bus like usual. It made no sense to Harry, but instead of rolling their eyes, the student body was eating it up. People were looking at Slytherins like they were simply misunderstood good guys just waiting for a chance to be helpful and nice. It was ridiculous! Everyone suddenly loved them!

People in Slytherin had decided to use current events as an excuse to experiment with social engineering, using Harry as a crowbar for how the other houses reacted to Slytherins. The exaggerated tales going around about Harry in particular and the heroic actions of Slytherins in general were getting ridiculous. There were rumors about Harry getting book deals, photo spreads, merchandising, and a summer speaking tour. He'd lost track of how many people had offered to come along with him. It was shocking how gullible or, alternatively, manipulative some students were when it came to fame.

Riding that wave, Slytherins had taken up lying like it was an Olympic sport. Harry was suddenly being portrayed as a beloved and heroic figure that everyone had always believed in. He had more best friends than black hairs on his head. One of Harry's biggest tormentors—Matty Bole—was seen telling several girls the bald-faced lie that he and Harry were like brothers. It was weird and disgusting.

In the press, Valeria was being lauded as a hero. One article called her a role model for witches everywhere. Another described her as shy, sweet, and even-tempered.

VALERIA! Even-tempered!

The Slytherin common room (after making sure Valeria was busy far, far away on the opposite side of the castle) had laughed so hard that they'd gotten noise complaints from several floors away. One of her former roommates may or may not have laughed so hard she peed her pants. Everyone was trying to keep Valeria from finding out, but the idiots in other houses made that extremely difficult. Any day now she was going to crack under the starry-eyed looks, figure it out, and start randomly flinging about cutting curses in a crowd just to set her reputation straight.

Harry was sort of dreading it… but mostly looking forward to it.

Look, being good all the time was both boring and an impossible standard to set for a twelve-year-old boy attending Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin House, okay?

At his worst moments, Harry almost wished Professor Lockhart was still around just so everyone would have a different target to badger for autographs, stories, and photos. (Defence Against the Dark Arts was being taught by substitutes for the rest of the year.)

Going down into the Chamber of Secrets hadn't been fun. It had been terrifying and he'd only survived and succeeded because of luck and good friends. At different moments down there he'd thought that Valeria, Hermione, Halle and even Ginny were dead. Myrtle was gone. Harry had almost been dead and gone.

More often than not, he woke up crying and screaming from nightmares. His roommates got good at silencing charms and Theo learned to keep his mouth shut about it if he didn't want to get hurt. Dreamless sleep potions weren't meant for daily use long term and he couldn't get more anyways because someone would see, tell everyone, and it would become a big embarrassing thing published in the international press—assuming Pomfrey would even let him get the words out before banishing him from the infirmary again for daring to ask about Hermione. At least Harry did have some true friends on his side. When he started looking too rough, Blaise and Pansy would touch-up Harry's face with cosmetic charms before letting him go out in public.

Everyone had questions. Harry wasn't sure he had the answers, at least not the ones they were really looking for—a shiny and fun story to be wowed by that left out the cowardly fear, stupidity, and filth. Part of him wanted to tell them all the truth, or at least tell his House, but with all the rumors and expectations pressing down on him it felt impossible. Harry didn't even know where to start. He wished everyone would stop asking and leave him alone. Being famous was supposed to be fun. This wasn't. Maybe if he could be famous for something not associated with violence and surviving unexpectedly, maybe then it might be different.

Shaking off his dark thoughts, Harry realized that the girls in the courtyard hadn't gone back to their game of marbles. They were still staring at Harry. He better say something. Best to keep it simple.

"Ladies," Harry said. He tried to nod regally like Slytherin Prefect Reyansh Ahuja at his most refined and to sound suave like Blaise at his most dashing, yet not make eye contact in case they took it as an invitation to surround him like the predators they were and attack.

For a moment it seemed like his ploy had worked. He let himself relax. However, as soon as he turned his back on them, giggles and sighs filled the air. It was hard not to hunch his shoulders and jog away as barely heard wipers filled the space at his back like a looming cloud of hot volcanic ash. His hands felt sweaty around the book in his hands.

"Think it's true what they say about snakes?" A voice said with a teasing lilt. He pretended not to hear and kept walking. The voices got louder.

As he passed a Hufflepuff lounging on the grass braiding her long blond hair in some complicated arrangement, he thought he heard her say, "Looking hot today, Harry." Sure he must be mistaken, he looked back in confusion. Instead of blushing, she gave him a thumbs up and winked, prompting several nearby girls to laugh.

Harry could feel his face getting warm. He couldn't tell if she was being complimentary or cruel, but either way it made him uncomfortable. His book slipped from his sweaty fingers and dropped to the ground. Sighing through his nose in aggravation, he bent over to pick it up, only for a girl to wolf-whistle and call, "Nice view!" The courtyard descended into raucous laughter and Harry couldn't take it anymore. He snatched up his book and broke into a trot to get out of there. That just made the crowd louder. Thankfully no one followed him.

Of course, he was only two corridors away when he was ambushed again. Harry had just slowed down to catch his breath when he looked up and saw Hermione's roommates coming out of the nearest doorway.

"Harry!" shrieked Lavender as she launched herself at him.

Harry brought his arms up to fight her off long enough to get to his wand, only realizing at the last second that she wasn't attacking him so he shouldn't hex her. That moment of frozen confusion was his doom as Lavender trapped him in a hug, forcing his arms against his chest with his hands flopped forward at his shoulders in a strangely cramped position, sort of like a T-Rex.

"I wanted to thank you again for so bravely saving us from that monster!" Lavender squeezed him for a tortuously long moment before finally letting him go and stepping back, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and giggling. "And Hermione and Ginny too, of course."

"Yes, thank you, Harry," said Parvati, stepping forward and giving him a hug too despite his hands still being up awkwardly up in the air. Thankfully it was at least quick. "Hermione's our roommate, you know. I'm sure you could use some help. If you need us to come with you for an interview with the Daily Prophet or just to meet important people, we are totally willing," she said, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder with a smile and wink.

Lavender's eyes went wide. "Oh yes, please!" She clapped her hands. "Take us with you!" She cleared her throat, put a hand on her chest, and looked up and off into the distance, perhaps trying to look soulful or earnest. "Especially since our dear Hermione isn't available for interviews. It's a sacrifice, but as her roommates, we do know her weird habits best. The press must have questions and you shouldn't have to face that alone. Leave it to us. We're happy to be in the photos and on the front page of newspapers. With you, I mean."

"Or on the covers of international magazines," added Parvati, clasping her hands beneath her chin and sighing dreamily, "like Phaishanebal Chudail, the fashionable witch magazine in India."

Parvati's sister—Padme, Padwen, something that was slipping his mind right now because of stress—stepped forward, making Harry flinch back to get out of range of more hugs. A smirk covered the Ravenclaw's face and calculation danced in her dark eyes. "Bring me along too and I'll keep these two off of you." She threw an arm around her sister's neck and laughed as she tugged her sister off-balance, making her stumble sideways.

Parvati elbowed her in the side. "Get off, Padma!"

That's right, Padma, but anyways—"I'm not doing any interviews," Harry said, wrinkling his nose and curling his lips. He had no interest in talking about what had happened in detail with the press, not when they'd already twisted the few things he'd been forced to say to them under pressure from his housemates. Even talking about it with Headmaster Dumbledore had been pretty awful. He might share it with friends someday, but he wasn't ready yet. Right now he couldn't imagine sharing the full story with strangers.

Of course, that was a big reason why the rumors were as outlandish as they were. Valeria wasn't talking either, but most people weren't stupid enough to try and badger her for answers the way they would him. That or she'd already disappeared everyone stupid enough to try.

Lavender gave him a hopeful smile. "Well, fame doesn't scare us! We're here to help if you change your mind."

"I won't," Harry said firmly.

"Okay," Lavender said, undaunted as she darted forward and hugged him again just when he thought he was safe and had finally lowered his arms. "But we're happy to answer questions for you with the press if you want. I even ordered all of the books about your magical adventures growing up so I'm prepared for interviews."

Head going back, Harry shook his head. "What books? I grew up with muggles. I didn't have any magical adventures."

"Oh Harry, you're so modest," she said breathily, fluttering her eyelashes.

Harry scowled. "No, I'm being honest. Those books must be a bunch of lies. Don't believe anything you read in them. They're probably written by the same people who published books about Lockhart. You should get your money back. I certainly haven't seen a single knut of anything from people spreading fake stories about me. What trash!"

"If you say so, Harry." Staring at him with unnerving intensity, Lavender turned pink.

Harry leaned back and cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable. "Anyway, have any of you been able to get in to see Hermione?"

"No, but I'm sure she's fine." Lavender waved her hand and stepped closer to say breathily, "If you need anything, I can do it."

"No thank you," he said forcefully. Taking a breath, he tried to soften his tone. "Really, that's fine. I don't need anything from you. Just Hermione." Not that they could give him Hermione. Trying not to scowl, Harry went to leave, only to find a wall at his back.

"But I'm here now," Lavender said. Puckering her lips, she moved forward.

Oh no, was she trying to kiss his cheek!? Alarmed, Harry jerked sideways, but at the same time, Lavender closed her eyes and dived forward, slamming her forehead into the side of his nose.

"Ouch!" they both exclaimed, stumbling away from each other and slapping hands up to their heads. Padma and Parvati lost it, falling into each other in a raucous burst of laughter.

Face bright red beneath the hand rubbing her forehead, Lavender started crying. "I'm s-s-orry," she sobbed. Turning, she fled down the hallway. Still cackling, the Patil twins followed her.

Harry gingerly touched his nose and upper lip, grateful to find it dry. Ouch. His nose wasn't bleeding, but it hurt. He'd had punches from bullies that had hurt less. What was Lavender's head made of, rock? Stupid girls. He hoped his nose didn't swell up so much that he couldn't taste his dinner. He'd heard that they were having his favorite food tonight—treacle tart. It would be just his luck.

~000~

When Harry sat down at the Slytherin table for dinner, his friends had initially been all fired up about finding out who had hurt him and making them pay for it, but as soon as they'd wrung the truth out of him, all sympathy dried up and they'd turned to mocking him mercilessly in true Slytherin fashion.

"All of my advice is finally paying off," Blaise crowed. "Innocent little Harry is finally all grown up and getting mobbed by fangirls. I'm so proud!"

Shoulders hunching at remembering the trauma, and annoyed at having to privately acknowledge that he was using Blaise's lectures on girls lately despite his many protestations otherwise, Harry flushed. He scowled to try and hide it. "Shut it, Blaise." Harry shoved a fork full of food into his mouth and chewed vigorously.

"Now don't be shy," Blaise cooed, only getting worse when Harry glared at him hotly. "With Lockhart gone and Slytherin's monster defeated, you're clearly the new obsession around here. Somebody has to entertain the masses. A little love tap is nothing. Soon your adoring fans will be ripping off your robes and fighting over who gets to keep the buttons."

A passing girl spun on her heel and stalked towards them rapidly, biting her lip and staring at Harry with wide, crazy eyes. "Is Harry giving away buttons? Can I have one for my Potter fanclub collection? It's the biggest in Hufflepuff." She leaned forward, eyes so wide he could see his reflection in them. "A warm button?" She moved to put her hand on Harry's shoulder and he dodged like he was about to be bitten again by a Basilisk, scrambling back against Draco and climbing halfway into his lap.

"Cindy, no!" snapped the girl's black-haired, chubby-cheeked friend, lunging forward as Harry's friends started cackling. The friend grabbed Cindy around the neck and pulled her away before she could make contact.

"Get off!" Draco shoved Harry off his lap hard, almost sending him sliding back off the bench and onto the floor. Draco was rarely in the mood for silliness and shenanigans these days.

Cindy only struggled against the chokehold for a moment before freezing, going pale, and collapsing back against her friend's chest, grabbing the arm around her neck like a support instead of fighting it as sanity returned to her eyes and she wobbled. She met Harry's eyes for a split second before jerking her eyes to the ground and hyperventilating. "S-s-sorry!" she gasped, starting to slide to the floor until her friend wrapped an arm around her waist. "I just like collecting things," she whispered threadily. "It's my hobby, an obsessive hobby! S-sorry!"

"She's sorry. We're sorry!" The friend called as she bodily dragged Cindy away. "Keep us updated about the buttons though," she cast a shy smile down the table and added breathlessly, "especially if Valeria is giving buttons away too." Everyone in Slytherin gasped at her audacity, but she didn't seem to notice. "Those are worth more than even Potter's for serious collectors."

Valeria's hand froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Her face went frighteningly blank. A muscle in her jaw twitched but otherwise, she didn't move. It was fifty-fifty on whether she was trying to control her temper or deciding on the worst spell she knew to curse both Cindy and her friend with.

The Hufflepuffs completely missed the fact that they were in mortal danger. "Valeria's sooo cool! Not only was she the best Seeker Slytherin's had in years, but she took on a Basilisk with only Potter as backup—no offense, Cindy," the girl said in her friend's direction without looking at or apologizing to Harry himself.

"Rude," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Anyway, we're going now. Bye!" The two Hufflepuffs scrambled away and fled out of the nearest door. For several seconds after you could hear their semi-hysterical laughter and running feet echoing from the stairwell door.

An older Ravenclaw boy with a mole on his cheek and spiky black hair slunk over, casting an eye around—lingering longer on Valeria than anyone else—before leaning forward to stage whisper, "If you want specialty-made buttons featuring Basavilbaso's picture," he tossed her a wink, "or even Potter's, let me know—words, pictures, enchantments, the whole shebang. I've got connections and can get you a good price on bulk orders," he glanced over his shoulder at the head table and accidentally caught Professor Snape's eye. Snape's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed with either suspicion or indigestion—hard to tell which with Snape. The boy paled. Without waiting for a reply, he ducked his head and rushed back to the Ravenclaw table, sliding into the first open seat and shifting so the bulk of the other students hid him from the front table.

Valeria slowly put down her fork and stared off into the distance with a faint frown. "Am I not scary anymore? Is Slytherin not scary anymore?" She looked around, darkness pooling in her eyes. "I think our House has made a terrible mistake."

An unhappy murmur went around her side of the table, followed by a respectful hush as Prefect Reyansh Ahuja cleared his throat meaningfully, indicating he had something to say and was waiting for them to quiet down and listen to it. "It's true that respect goes hand in hand with fear and is less fickle than fame." He frowned thoughtfully and looked around. "Maybe this has gone too far. Too many misconceptions could topple all of the gains we've made. Action is required. Our House should discuss strategy, but later, where we can't be overheard. Whatever we do, we can't risk losing public face." He returned to eating without saying more and other conversations resumed.

After a few moments, Valeria turned to Flint, the faintest crease between her brows as one finger tapped fretfully against the table. "I was only helping Harry for selfish reasons. Did I do something wrong? When did I stop being hated and feared by others?" Her lower lip pushed out in what on anyone else would be called a pout. It was honestly sort of adorable, but the tightly fisted hand around the wand in her lap showed just how serious a question this was for her. Valeria was upset. An upset Valeria was usually a violent Valeria. Taking another big bite of food in case he had to abandon his plate in a hurry, Harry watched her carefully, trying not to be too obvious about it. Everyone nearby and smart did the same, keeping an eye on Valeria and Flint even as they carried on their own conversations.

Flint looked at her with obvious fondness on his face, one corner of his mouth curling up for a split second before he flattened his lips to try and hide his amusement. He failed. Valeria's lips thinned. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. Instead of getting scared like a sane person, Flint cleared his throat to obviously stifle a laugh. She poked him hard in the side. He jerked away and sat up from the slouch he'd fallen into, rubbing his probably bruised side and trying to look somewhat serious. "Well…" tilting his head, Flint licked his lips, probably giving himself time to think of something that wouldn't make her more upset or physically violent, "I wouldn't say you aren't f—"

"Duh!" The snide voice of Adriana Ploward rang out loud and shrill enough to cut Flint off mid-word. Adriana was a fifth-year Slytherin with large square glasses and wispy blond hair who'd literally given Harry the time of day once during his first week in Slytherin when he was running late and had never spoken to him again, though he'd heard her claiming to be one of his main mentors in Slytherin just yesterday. She had a reputation as a petty bully with more ambition than sense or skill. He'd been happy to avoid a closer association.

Facing Macy McGuire on the bench, Adriana waved the hand holding her fork and rolled her eyes, adding loudly, "As if anyone ever stopped!" Adriana didn't seem to notice or—though it was hard to fathom—care about the fact that she'd effectively cut Flint off mid-word and been caught insulting Valeria.

Maybe it was a misunderstanding? She couldn't really be that brazen with two powerful and violent upperclassmen, would she? Unless this was a power grab? Some bizarre attempt at social climbing?

Adriana waved her hand again, making the piece of sausage on her fork fly through the air and plop into Terence's pumpkin juice, splashing his sleeve and Valeria's plate. "Hey, watch it!" Terence shot the fifth-year an angry look. Flint's eyes went cold and Valeria's wand tip appeared above the edge of the table.

Still not noticing anything wrong, Adriana laughed at her own wit and leaned closer to keep gossiping with her friend.

Harry sucked on a tooth and watched her with cool appraisal. He tried to be fair with people. It was possible that Adriana had only been carelessly responding to something said by her friend despite what it looked like. The laugh and words might not have been in response to Valeria at all. It might've just been awful timing. The flung sausage was certainly only a clumsy mistake. Even so, that didn't excuse idiocy and self-absorption. Slytherins should be cunning in word and deed, not carelessly clumsy.

After surviving five years as a Slytherin, Adriana should know better than to ignore when someone as magically powerful and vindictive as Valeria spoke to someone as socially powerful and mean as Flint, especially when they were sitting nearby. Within his first month Harry had learned the lesson of always keeping an ear out for nearby conversations and power plays during meals. Mistakes like this were costly and not easily forgiven, especially after a first-years' traditional grace period of being excused from the full-consequences of social mistakes ended upon returning from the winter holidays. Adriana was in the middle of the pack when it came to dominance in her year, but she'd won the right to live in the smallest single instead of the shared room, so she supposedly knew better. Or maybe she'd just been skating by all this time on luck to maintain her social status.

Her luck had just run out.

Still seemingly unaware of the eyes turned her way, Adriana bumped shoulders with a giggling Macy and put her fork in her mouth, looking confused when it was empty. Scooping up another sausage, she popped it into her mouth, talking as she chewed. "I mean, obviously we all still hate her—"

"Obviously," Macy agreed around the spoon hanging out of her mouth, nodding along as she licked it clean.

"—and everyone knows Potter only took her down there as a meat shield, while Flint's been trying to break up with her for weeks to get himself a sane girlfriend, the poor boy. To be honest," she lowered her voice, but not enough to keep from being overheard by all of the people surreptitiously watching, "it would've served us all a lot better if she'd just died down there. At least then we could play the sympathy card in public and maybe get a school holiday and some concessions out of it." Twirling her fork in the air again like a baton, she tossed her head back and laughed as if she were auditioning for the part of lady villain in a play.

Any sympathy Harry might've entertained for her plight died a swift death. He wanted to toss his plate at her face or something even worse, something painful and maybe even slightly disfiguring. Valeria was obviously rubbing off on him. He should probably be worried about that.

Later.

Everyone with even an iota of sense or social awareness had noticed the rising tension and started looking around for the culprit. It wasn't hard to find the epicenter. Nearby conversations snuffed out as more and more eyes turned to watch Adriana and Valeria with fearful anticipation.

A few coins traded hands under the table. They better hope Valeria hadn't noticed, or after she dealt with this she'd hex them and then demand a cut for the disrespect of them daring to bet on her. Harry kept track of their names, just in case. He might need leverage for something soon and blackmail was both accepted and expected amongst his housemates (even if he wasn't always very good at it). He was pleased to see that Theo was one of the people making a mistake by betting. Harry wouldn't have to hesitate with Theo.

"Adriana, you're awful!" Macy snickered and bumped shoulders with her friend, only to get a crinkle on her brow as she finally noticed the hush falling all around. Smile going crooked, her dark eyes flicked up and down the table. Seeing all of the cold and calculating eyes turned their way—Adriana's way—Macy flinched, her smile faltering. She turned her head just enough to notice Flint's and Valeria's expressions and blanched white, eyes going wide. Not being an idiot, she immediately dropped her gaze to the floor and scooted away from Adriana until pressed against the student on the other side. Turning her back, she hunched her shoulders, obviously trying to make herself small and distance herself from the association to get out of the line of fire.

However, they'd all seen Macy laugh at Adriana's insults. There would still be consequences. Bad ones.

Not as bad as Adriana's though.

Everyone else on the bench followed Macy's lead, edging away from Adriana in a creeping wave like two caterpillars made of dark robes and bowed heads undulating away in opposite directions from a spot of poison. The students with the bad luck to be at either end were forced to precariously balance on one buttock to stay on the bench and avoid standing up and calling the wrong kind of attention to themselves. It left Adriana sitting alone with empty space on either side. Even the people sitting across from her at the table had drawn back to the far edges.

Somehow still oblivious, Adriana's laughter choked off into a snort as she finally looked around and noticed her isolation. "What are you all doing?" Adriana stared at Macy and blinked in confusion. "Why are you all the way over there? It's not like I farted or said something everyone else wasn't also thinking." She rolled her eyes.

Corner of her lip curling, Valeria shot a spell at Adriana. A pale lilac light skimmed along the top of the table in between goblets and bowls before hitting Adriana and being absorbed. The girl didn't even react.

Harry didn't recognize the spell. That could be good or bad. They were in public with Professors nearby, so Valeria had to be careful not to be caught. Otherwise, she already would've hexed Adriana violently and repeatedly. Several Professors ambling around the room had stopped nearby to chat. That didn't mean Adriana was safe from retribution. The opposite in fact. Having it delayed until there weren't any adults around would only make things worse.

Adriana finger-combed her wispy blonde hair and stared at her distant friends, none of which would even look at her. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and she adjusted her glasses. Catching a clue at last, Adriana looked up, finally noticing the hostile glares and calculating looks from the rest of her House. Blinking rapidly, her gaze darted around before zipping over to where Valeria was staring at her with overt hostility. Adriana's mouth rounding into an O of enlightenment and she shrank down as Valeria tapped her wand tip against her opposite palm and speared Adriana with a look colder than jumping bare-arsed into the Black Lake at midnight in January. Adriana's face rapidly drained of color, going as gray as the Bloody Baron, who'd paused up above to watch the drama unfolding below with dark, unfeeling eyes.

"I-I-I…" Adriana stuttered before trailing off with a loud gulp. Tears overflowed and dripped down her cheeks, smudging the lenses of her square glasses as she clumsily wiped at her face. Her wet eyes darted around like a trapped animal looking for an escape. "Why are you all looking at me like that?" she sniveled, curling a finger around a blond lock of hair and rubbing it against her cheek as if trying to look cute and garner sympathy.

A wasted effort—snakes ate their prey live.

"Take a guess," Flint ordered with icy disdain, eyes hooded as his fingernail tap-tap-tapped against the edge of his plate.

At that point, Adriana had only three real options: a groveling apology followed by meekly taking her licks, standing up for her opinion and fighting (in a doomed attempt) to increase or maintain her social dominance, or trying to brazenly lie about what she'd said to minimize the fallout. Unexpectedly Adriana took a fourth route, compounding her mistake in the worst possible way.

Jumping up from her seat with a whimper, she tried to run, only to trip and fall to the floor in a graceless sprawl. No one tried to help her. Whining in fear, she scrambled to her feet and fled the room sobbing.

Everyone in Slytherin had an opinion on that and none of them were good.

"What was that?"

"She can't be serious."

"How did she ever sort into Slytherin?"

"That was pitiful."

"Shameful. Maybe she got sorted by mistake?"

By running away, Adriana acknowledged her guilt and acted weak in front of everyone. Adriana's status had just dropped to the rock bottom of the social hierarchy. She'd guaranteed a hexing from Valeria the next time they met at the very least, not to mention anyone with a grudge who'd left her alone until now. The dimensions of Adriana's room would shrink overnight or more likely force her to move into the shared room and give up her single space to a more dominant and politically savvy fifth-year. Her peers would wring concessions and make her pay for things they used to be willing to do for free. Underclassmen would challenge her instead of leaving her alone. It would take her years to come back from this. She should've paid more attention in the first place and held her tongue. Since she hadn't, she should've apologized, taken the hex, and resigned herself to doing social damage control after eventually leaving the infirmary. It could've been a painful but not a permanent lesson.

Too late now.

A different Harry sorted into a different House might've felt sorry for her. A different Harry raised with his parents might've laughed the words off or thrown some mocking words out himself. He wasn't either of those Harrys. This Harry thought Adriana deserved what was coming for her, especially for publically targeting her scornful words at Valeria like that in the dining hall with other houses and professors around. Valeria wouldn't be hurt by words from a nobody like Adriana, but that didn't mean Adriana could say hurtful things about Valeria and think to get away with it. Harry would probably hex her himself the next time they crossed paths.

In Slytherin, you were cunning or you got crushed. That was training for life. Everyone knew to keep an ear on nearby conversations in public places, especially those of upperclassmen. That's how you learned, gained power, and kept yourself safe.

You could laugh along when someone like Harry Potter was being teased by his friends because part of Harry's power was based on inviting a certain amount of familiarity with members of his house. He didn't put up with bullies, but he also didn't take himself so seriously that he couldn't take a joke or prank. It made him approachable. It was part of his leadership strategy.

Valeria did not invite familiarity. She did not invite period—she demanded and you fell in line with her wishes or fell beneath her heel. You never laughed at someone like Valeria. Before this year, no one dared to even make eye contact, much less talk to her without being explicitly addressed by her first. Breaking that taboo only invited attack (as Harry could personally attest). Forgetting that was a rookie mistake.

As the meal went on, everyone at the table stayed keyed up and a little jumpy. Valeria was glowering, moving the food around on her plate but not actually eating anything. That made Flint even more foul-tempered in response. He didn't even bother with his food, just staring around the room and scowling at members of other Quidditch teams, perhaps remembering that he hadn't had a good fight in weeks. Harry didn't want to get dragged out for more training as an excuse to work off his Captain's energy. He also wasn't really down with cornering people in dark corners and brawling. He needed to grow a few more inches first.

As the cherry on the sundae, Harry's nose had started swelling from Lavender headbutting him earlier. It was painfully tender to the touch. There was no point in eating dessert since he couldn't taste anything right now anyways.

"Okay, that's over for now. Time to lighten up," Blaise said in a carrying tone, clearing his throat and waiting for people to focus on him before continuing. This was Blaise's social power, knowing how to seize the moment to lighten tension, elicit smiles, and turn opinion and social capital in his favor. Harry envied him the ability.

Turning to Harry, he tilted his head to the side, batted his eyelashes, and breathed in a high-pitched voice, "So, Hawwy, can I please have a button? A warm one?"

Nevermind, Blaise sucked.

Reaching out, Harry shoved the back of Blaise's head, sending him face-first into his bowl of food.

Everyone laughed. Blaise sat up and wiped off his face with his napkin. "Now is that any way to treat your number one fan?" He didn't even get mad, just laughed with the crowd. He was so smooth it made Harry sick even as he couldn't help but be impressed. Harry could see the smug glint in Blaise's eyes as his gamble worked. The tension broke and Valeria and Flint returned to eating as more relaxed conversations returned to the table.

"C'mon, Harry, it's only one button off your nubile young body." Blaise gave him an over-the-top leer.

"Gross," Harry said, rolling his eyes even as his face went hot. "Seriously, stop."

"But Hawwy, I just wanna pinch your cheeks and take you back to my boudoir for a photo shoot," Blaise said, fluttering his eyelashes again, though he had to pause to remove a clump of pudding that dripped from his eyebrow. Terrance and Miles joined Blaise in making kissy faces at Harry. Pansy and Daphne pretended to swoon and then collapsed against each other, giggling.

"I'm sure the pictures would sell like hotcakes with the two of you in them," Pansy cooed, trying not to laugh.

It was so humiliating. "Sto-op," Harry moaned, clapping a hand over his eyes as he debated sliding under the table. His nose was throbbing in time to the ache building in his right temple. "Why are you guys like this?"

Blaise sighed dramatically, tossing a hand against his forehead. "I'm dethroned as King of Hearts here at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor have both fallen to Harry's wiles. I shall have to content myself with seducing Ravenclaws instead."

"You're horrible," Harry grumbled.

Just when he thought it was finally over, a voice down the table piped up, "Have you seen how girls follow Harry in the halls now like a Seeker after a Snitch?" Dulcina arched a brow at him and smirked.

Artemis, her partner in both sports and crime, nodded and leaned forward as if sharing a secret, though she raised her voice at the same time so everyone could hear. "I've caught several doodling Mrs. Potter inside little Snitches in the margins of their essays, dreaming of making a catch."

Reaching around Blaise, Artemis pinched Harry's cheek before he could duck away. "He's such a heartbreaker, even with the swollen nose."

"Interesting," Draco drawled in a voice trained to carry, making the laughter quiet down. Draco had been practically mute since the incident with his father hitting him, but since no one but Harry had seen it, and he'd kept the incident to himself, the rest of the Slytherins were lost as to why.

Most people assumed he was just unbearably jealous of Harry's fame. Harry hadn't corrected them. Crabbe and Goyle were freaked out by Draco's abrupt personality switch, not aware of the source of the change, only knowing that the lack of orders was an unnatural state that they didn't know how to handle. Pansy was fretting too, fluttering around Draco and ambushing him with hugs and babble whenever he wasn't hiding away somewhere by himself.

Still flushed, Harry watched Draco warily.

Mouth twisting as he looked at Harry's face, Draco tapped a finger against his chin. "I didn't know people could turn that color without getting hexed first, but Potter has always been… special, hasn't he?"

Great. Of course Draco would choose to finally break out of his funk just so he could mock Harry, using Harry's last name and that particularly grating tone of voice to make sure everyone knew Harry was out of favor again for sure. Couldn't Draco have kept stewing silently in angst at least until the end of dinner? Crabbe and Goyle perked up happily at the return of Draco's sharp words and laughed too heartily, almost falling off the bench in their attempts to support every word that dripped from Draco's lips.

"Frankly, I don't think that shade of red is even found in nature," Draco said snidely.

Clenching his hand around his fork, Harry blew out his breath and cursed his fair skin as he felt himself flushing hotter. Stupid Draco. The only way to respond when Draco was like this was to ignore him or to attack back, but all the insults that jumped to Harry's tongue would aim to draw blood. Harry didn't feel right hitting a man when he was already down, even if it was Draco. Though actually, there were a lot of people he'd be fine hitting when they were already down, like his cousin Dudley or Matty Bole, so maybe he just had a soft spot for Draco looking pitiful. How unfortunate for Harry.

Draco smirked. "Oh look, the color's getting worse." He turned to Crabbe and arched a pale brow. "Maybe that rumor's true after all and he is trying to commit social suicide by becoming a Weasley. Maybe turning red is the first stage."

Lips pressed tight, Harry tried not to have a trauma flashback of Mrs. Weasley coming in for a hug. Unfortunately in a moment of weakness, he'd told Pansy and Blaise about her heavy-handed invitation. It had proved too juicy a piece of gossip to keep to themselves. Now everyone knew.

Draco patted Harry's head as his smirk widened, avoiding Harry's batting hands. "Don't be so daft, Harry, it's their hair that's red, not their faces. Then again, who can stand to look at them long enough to notice? You'd probably blend right in. Shall we toss you in with the rest of the Gryffindors and see if anyone can pick you out from the other freaks and losers?" He looked over at Crabbe and Goyle and raised his hand, "Well? Go ahead bo—"

Harry grabbed his arm and slammed it back down onto the table. "Don't even!" Unwilling to put up with more from Draco, even if it was finally bringing Draco out of his shell, Harry snapped, "I'm gonna make your face red with my fist if you don't give it a rest." Their eyes locked in a battle of wills as Draco glared back, obviously trying to decide if he was going to escalate to violence.

Their tense standoff was broken by Blaise's faux-breathless voice. "So commanding. Our little Harry is growing up, though he's going to be breaking a lot of hearts if he keeps holding Draco's hand out in the open on the table like that. Unless that was all about Draco being jealous?"

"Ugh!" Instantly Draco and Harry sprang apart and turned matching glares on Blaise instead.

Blaise was uncowed, tucking his hands under his chin as he simpered and blinked his eyes rapidly like one of the twitter-pated girls in the halls. "You're both just so cute!"

"Especially my cute Draco," Pansy said as she shoved her way in between them and sat down, refilling Draco's glass of punch and then pouring herself a drink. Leaning into Draco, she tried to wind herself around his arm and snuggle into his side.

Draco wiggled free. "Get off," he said in a whine and switched places with Greg. Pansy pouted and stared at the side of his face soulfully for the rest of the meal. It felt almost normal again as the conversation thankfully moved on. Harry supposed he could forgive Blaise for it this once.

"Everyone, may I please have your attention," said Headmaster Dumbledore ponderously as he stood up at the head table and straightened his sky blue robes decorated with lime green frogs leaping after fluttering red flies on a background of white daisies. "First, I want to thank you all for the warm greetings upon my return to the school." He smoothed his hands down the front of his robes and the animation stilled. "As a reminder, for the safety of our students after the attacks on Misses Harper and Granger, the remainder of the Quidditch season was canceled."

Grumbles swept through the hall like a gust of wind tossing down acorns and rattling leaves. Lips pressed tight, Harry crossed his arms and scowled. Everyone on his team looked pained, especially their Captain. Everyone knew this already, there was no reason for Dumbledore to poke at a still-sore wound.

The Headmaster waited for some of the grumbling to die down before continuing. "Due to the recent actions of Slytherin students…." Pausing theatrically, Dumbledore turned to look at Harry. Around the hall people glanced between Harry and the Headmaster. This could be good or bad for Slytherin. You could never really tell with Dumbledore.

"Along with those from Gryffindor…" he turned to look at Ginny Weasley and paused again, then let his gaze drift around the room building tension. Harry's housemates looked ready to riot if Dumbledore gave Gryffindor house points just for surviving the Basilisk when they'd been the ones to actively defeat it (at least in their minds). (If they'd known Ginny Weasley had actually helped plan the attacks (supposedly against her will under the thrall of Tom's diary), and thought she'd still get points as a Gryffindor, blood would spill.)

"The castle is once more safe," Dumbledore said with drama. He paused again to ponderously breath in and out for several seconds, meeting eyes around the silent room. Harry wanted to shake the man so he'd get to the point. "In light of this, and of Madam Pomfrey mysteriously and miraculously finishing the Mandrake potion months ahead of schedule," people gasped and started calling out questions, but Dumbledore ignored the noise and kept going, "I have two pieces of good news. First, our missing students have been cured early and will rejoin us for the rest of the school year, starting with dessert tonight!" Platters and bowls of glistening sweets appeared on all of the tables, but hardly anyone cared.

Instead, everyone cheered as Dumbledore gestured theatrically towards the back of the hall, where Madam Pomfrey had opened the doors and was ushering Filch into the room with a hissing Mrs. Norris, her pointed ears pressed flat against her head. The cheering faltered. Then Colin Creevey stumbled into the room with a huge smile on his face and gave a big wave. Gryffindor exploded into happy screams and rushed to greet him. He was followed by Justin Finch-Fletchley, blushing and smiling crookedly at the reception, and the ghost Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, who grinned at everyone and tipped his partially decapitated head off his neck, doing a twirl and bouncing it against his shoulder before flopping it back into place and floating up towards the ceiling to greet the other ghosts. There was wild clapping and even one startled scream.

"Halle!" Flint bellowed with delight, jumping to his feet and waving his arms as she came into the room next, pausing in the doorway with shoulders going up around her ears at the blast of cheers and greetings. Students had rushed the doors, swarming Colin and Justin to welcome them back. The only thing keeping Slytherin from immediately joining them was the fact that they were seated the farthest from the front doors and the aisles were already blocked by others.

There was only one more person still missing. Harry watched eagerly. Hermione should be next. As he searched the crowd in the doorway for her face, he didn't think it was possible to feel any happier. Then the Headmaster spoke again and Harry was proven wrong.

"Second," Dumbledore said, pausing to point his wand at his throat and cast a Sonorous spell to be heard over the happy crowd before continuing, "the Quidditch season is being resumed. Dates for the final two games will be posted in your common rooms tonight."

Flint and Oliver Wood simultaneously jumped up on top of their respective tables, sending bowls of pudding flying as they threw their hands up in the air and bugled at the top of their lungs in a manly duet, "QUIDDITCH!" They looked at each other with manic grins before breaking away to search out their upcoming opponents and give threatening glares: Slytherin at Hufflepuff and Gryffindor at Ravenclaw. The other players were jumping up and down and hugging each other.

Ignoring the fact that most people were too busy celebrating to listen anymore, Dumbledore raised his glass. "Cheers!" He took a deep drink before sitting back down with a smug and self-satisfied smile.

Harry loved Dumbledore. What a great man! What great news!

Everyone was on their feet cheering, hugging, and even crying. Harry was no exception. He was quite chuffed when Draco unbent enough to grin at him and give Harry a back-pounding embrace. "We get another game!" Draco shouted gleefully into Harry's ear before releasing him to high-five Terence. The sound was deafening.

Harry was ecstatic, yet after a few moments, he realized something was missing. He still hadn't seen Hermione. Everything faded to a muted roar as his eyes flitted across faces. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart. Dumbledore had distracted him and he hadn't seen her come in behind Halle. He saw Lavender and Parvati, but she wasn't with her roommates.

Flint had jumped off the table, bullied his way through the crowd, and swept Halle up into a big hug, swinging the small girl back and forth as she wrapped around him like a monkey and burst into happy tears. Her first-year friends quickly surrounded them, squealing as Flint tossed Halle into the arms of her friends with a crooked grin, almost sending the whole group of them toppling onto the floor.

Harry would squeal too if he could just find his friend to hug. Where was Hermione? He couldn't find her, he couldn't find her! Where was she, where was—there!

Familiar brown corkscrew curls finally appeared through a gap in the crowd, the red hair of a Weasley twin on either side as they sandwiched her in a hug, almost lifting her off her feet. Hermione was facing away from him, but Harry would recognize that brown hair anywhere, even with it styled in a novel way. Her brown curls had been tied back from her face to fall in a cascade from the crown of her head in a classic style, with a multi-stranded metallic headband attempting to restrain the riot of her curls, though a few curlicues still escaped, framing her face.

With her hair pulled back, he noticed with surprise that her ears were now pierced and decorated with strange bronze earrings long enough to dangle down to her chest. They looked like they belonged in an exhibit on Ancient Greece. A bronze bar covered in runes hung just below her earlobe, supporting several long, dangling chains decorated up and down their lengths with what were either delicate scales or bells. Several curls fell over her shoulder to twine around the chains dripping from her ears, but the gleaming metal was too bright to be hidden by her dark hair, even with parts of the bronze darkened by hints of green and brown patina. It made her look both beautiful and exotic, like one of those Greek statues displayed on a pedestal in a museum.

Heart hurting, Harry swallowed. He didn't like thinking of her as a statue. He had too much experience with that lately. Besides, Greek statues in museums were always damaged and broken, missing arms, legs, and sometimes even heads. Stomach tight, Harry reminded himself that Hermione wasn't hard stone anymore. He'd touched her soft hair and heard her voice. He'd seen her eyes gleaming with life as she peeked at him from beneath her bed covers, even seen the hint of a split pupiled eye surrounded by scales on her head—though her hair just looked like normal hair now. How? Why? Did it even matter?

Hermione was alive. She was fine. She was—

She was staring straight at him.

Harry fell into her eyes and felt everything go quiet and still.

'Hello,' she mouthed across the crowd with a shy wave.

'Hello,' he mouthed back, hoping his face wasn't as bright red as it felt.

The crowd shifted, opening a path between them. Eyes locked, they moved towards each other like opposing magnets. Before they could slam together another student came between them, stopping in front of Hermione to wish her well. Vibrating in place, Harry waited impatiently, clenching and unclenching his hands. Hermione thanked the student without taking her eyes off of Harry. The interloper disappeared. They closed the remaining distance, not stopping until their toes almost touched. The space between them felt charged, like bottled lightning.

Lips parting, Hermione took in a deep breath. The gentle susurration of chimes from her earrings echoed her slightest movements, overpowering the indistinct undertone of hissing. "Hello, Harry," she said, then paused expectantly.

Smiling crookedly, he swallowed to wet his throat and nodded. "Hello, Hermione."

Just looking at her made his chest feel swollen with feelings. He wanted a hug. She'd always been the one to initiate their hugs in the past, but maybe it was time that changed. Maybe this time he'd hug her first. However, just as Harry lifted his arms to step forward, she stuck out her hand to shake, stopping him in his tracks.

"Look," she said in a rush, "I can't talk about what happened," her eyes flicked away, perhaps only coincidentally landing on the Head Table where Madam Pomfrey was talking to Professor Dumbledore, "but all's forgiven now, right?" She looked back, meeting Harry's eyes for a searing second before veiling them with her lashes and dropping her chin, earrings swaying and singing like the whisper of water over stone. Her hand hovered between them with trembling fingers. "We're friends again, right?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Harry stuttered, feeling wrong-footed. Taking a quick breath and kicking himself for hesitating, he clasped her hand in his and shook it firmly, trying to shrug off his disappointment at the aborted hug. "Definitely forgiven and," he squeezed, feeling how wonderfully alive and present she was with her soft skin, rough calluses, and warm palm, "definitely friends."

This was enough. Her hand held trustingly in his felt good; it felt better than good. This was fantastic. He felt so light, free of the burden and guilt he'd carried so long for his part in their lost friendship. "Definitely friends from now on," he repeated firmly, unable to suppress a wide smile.

Shoulders straightening as the dangling bronze chains on her earrings swayed and sang like a halleluia chorus, Hermione released his hand with a crooked grin and said, "Good, then I can do this again," and threw her arms around his shoulders in a big, tight, warm Hermione hug.

Delighted, Harry wrapped his arms around his girl—his friend—and hugged her back for all he was worth, which, at this moment in time due to the machinations of Slytherins inflating his reputation to ride his coattails to fame and fortune, was quite a lot. The surrounding crowd pressed against them, forcing them to hug even closer. Taking advantage of the fact that his face was pressed into the perfumed cloud of her hair, Harry indulged himself by inhaling deeply. He'd forgotten how good she smelled, how safe and perfect and lovely. All girls should smell like this, but only she did. Oh how he'd missed it, missed her and her hugs.

The new earrings weren't even pokey or uncomfortable, though the chains tickled his skin and felt cool and firm. In contrast, the curls around her ears slid down his neck softly in a warm caress. The combination made him feel strange, like he wanted to squirm and shiver and do—do something, though he wasn't sure what. He was finding it hard to breathe and his heart was thundering. Harry tightened his arms around Hermione while he tried to figure it out. Hugging Hermione was the best. That was a simple truth. He wished he could stay here with her forever.

Unable to read his thoughts, Hermione eventually let go and stepped back, forcing him to slacken his grip or else risk looking like a clingy child. Before he could get too disappointed, she gave him another smile.

"Hey Harry," she said, bouncing on her toes and linking her forefingers in front of her waist. It was adorable. She was adorable. An adorable friend! Because it was totally okay to think friends were adorable. Right? Right. Totally.

Harry realized he'd been silent for too long. "Oh, y-yeah?" He probably had a dopey look on his face. Oh well.

"Since I've missed so much class, I'm not ahead in the reading anymore," she said, brow furrowing even as she bounced on her toes again and smiled.

It was a strange thing to be excited about, but Harry wouldn't judge. "I'm sure you'll catch up in no time at all. You're too smart not to," he said. She bit her lip nervously. That was distracting. Harry focused on one of the bronze chains on her earring instead so he could actually think.

Swallowing hard, he wiggled his toe inside his shoe and tried to be cunning. To get as much of her time and attention as possible he probably needed to look like he had an altruistic reason instead of just being greedy. Acting more pitiful than he really was might help too. Harry tried to look nervous. (It didn't count as really being nervous if you were purposely trying to project that emotion). "If you want, I could help you catch up by meeting with you in the library everyday with my class notes to go over the reading with you?" he said. "I'm willing to put in as much time as you need to make you comfortable again."

"Really, thanks!" Beaming at him, Hermione bounced on her toes again and wiggled.

Ah, too cute! The tips of Harry's ears felt red hot. He felt almost lightheaded.

"I'd love your help, but actually," Hermione wound a curl around one finger and tugged fretfully, taking a deep breath before blurting out, "I was thinking we could study while practicing flying over the Quidditch pitch together, just like old times." She looked away, but quickly glanced back through her lashes to watch his reaction from the corner of her eye. "If you want to, that is." She shrugged one shoulder, chains shifting with a metallic hiss, and bit her lip.

"I'd love that!" Harry exclaimed, only to realize he was probably speaking too loud and leaning too close and probably coming off as too much of something. Clearing his throat, he looked away and brushed the hair back off his forehead. No need to come off as desperate, especially not as desperately uncool. "I'd enjoy that a lot, but," he looked back and made sure to meet her eyes so she knew he was being serious, "I'm okay with studying with you in the library too, okay? I know I messed up before. It doesn't always have to be my way of doing things."

Cheeks pink and eyes bright, she smiled at him softly. "Thank you, I appreciate that and definitely will want to sit down and study in the library sometimes, but for this first time together again," shoulders going back, she lifted a finger and pointed at him, "it's you, me, our brooms, and the sky. Got it, mister?"

Harry gave a crisp nod and saluted. "Yes, ma'am. Me and my broom will be there, say at… nineteen hundred sharp?"

Hermione nodded regally and flicked a wandering curl back behind her shoulder. "Nineteen hundred it is."

Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by her roommates. "Hermione, I'm so glad you're back!" Lavender squealed just before she glomped onto Hermione and bore her off into a group of second-year girls. "Bye Harry!" Lavender shouted over her shoulder, only to add in a high-pitched voice that carried unfortunately far. "Sorry again about hitting your nose!"

At that exact moment, there was an unfortunate lull in the surrounding conversation, making all of the girls nearby hear what she'd said and turn to look at him appraisingly. Half the girls made him feel like the last piece of bacon on the table at breakfast time while the other half made him feel like a disgusting bug trapped in the whipped cream of an otherwise perfect piece of pie. He started to sweat. The uncomfortable feeling only got worse when he realized they were all staring at his red and swollen nose… which he'd had the entire time he'd been talking to Hermione.

Oh no.

Harry had noticed her looking at his face a lot. He'd hoped it was because she'd missed seeing his face up close. Maybe she even thought he looked cute today. (Pansy had done a great job on the cosmetic charms this morning). But what if really the entire time those looks had been because she was wondering why he had such a big ugly swollen red schnauze in the middle of his face?

Aahhh! He wanted the ground to swallow him. The Patil twins gave him matching looks and giggled. That was the final straw.

Turning on his heel, Harry fled. "Bye, Harry!" the pack of girls chorused at his back, dissolving into laughter when his shoulders went up around his ears and his pace picked up.

Nevertheless, it wasn't all bad as a bewildered-sounding Hermione called out a second later, "Bye?"

Waving over his shoulder without turning around, Harry smiled to himself. Hermione was back and they were going flying together tonight, friends once more. The Quidditch season was back on and Slytherin was in a good place to win the House Cup. There was plenty of food to be had and he had friends and allies alike.

And, because it bore repeating, Hermione was his friend again! Tonight they were going flying! Together!

Life was good.


AN: Thanks for reading! I'm sorry updates are slow. Every comment and kudos has given me happiness and motivation to keep pushing to write this story for you. Thank you for supporting me.

A couple of weeks after the last chapter was updated, my 11 year old son ended up in the hospital and was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. The mental toll and lifestyle changes made creativity difficult for a long time. I had a scene or two written, but wasn't able to get it into a cohesive form until now.

As for this story, Year Two has a few more scenes in my head that hopefully will make it onto a page for upload. Just in case though, I wanted to end this chapter at a more emotionally satisfying place than Draco getting verbally abused by his dad (sorry Draco). Thank you again for all of your support with this story. I'm so pleased that so many of you have enjoyed it!

Earring references: On Etsy as

Troia I Earrings, Ancient Jewelry, Greek Earrings, Goddess Jewelry, Historical Accessories