Harry and Ron were supposed to be practicing their Vanishing spell work during their free period. Harry mused that if he had been able to see into the future, he would've asked Angelina to show him how to do it when she made the bottle of fire whiskey disappear. Instead of making much progress however, they spent the whole time talking about Harry's becoming a man.
"Don't be such a knob, it was only a kiss." Harry was saying as he tried and failed to make the balled up piece of parchment Ron had been playing with disappear. "Evanesco." he muttered, but the parchment only shivered a little and stayed completely visible.
Even though he dismissed Ron's gushing, he admitted to himself silently that he was really quite pleased as well, and even more excited than Ron. The prospect of an older girl being interested in him simply had not ever entered his mind; especially since he was having so much trouble with the girls his own age, and hadn't really begun to figure out how to deal with them yet. As cool as it was, though, it was also quite nerve-wracking. He had no idea what to do next.
"Listen mate, I hate to break it to you, but you're a fifth year who kissed a seventh year and it was Angelina Johnson to boot. That's a big deal!" Ron tapped the parchment harshly, sending it flying off the table before he could even say the incantation.
Harry got up and retrieved it from the floor, sitting down again with a sigh. "I mean…I like her…but I'm kind of-"
"Kind of what?" Hermione had appeared, her arms laden with library books. Harry gave Ron a look warning him not to say anything and watched as she hauled the books over to an empty chair and deposited them there. She pulled it over to their table and sat down next to it, smiling curiously at the boys. "What're you two chatting about?"
"We're stuck," Harry offered quickly. "I can't get this stupid parchment to vanish properly."
Hermione sighed patiently. "It's all in wrist movement and pronunciation, Harry. Like this." She tapped the parchment smartly, turned her wrist slightly, and uttered: "Evanesco…" The parchment vanished. "See? Now you try it, Ronald."
As Ron was trying half-heartedly to make the parchment vanish, Hermione furrowed her brow at Harry. "You know, I didn't mention it because you were so defensive the other night, but with Umbridge's new decree, we're now officially an illegal club," she said, referring to her idea about Harry teaching defense classes. "I mean, if you're still going to do it, that is."
Harry shrugged. "I sort figured that already. Any way it wasn't exactly something we could've posted up flyers for, Hermione. What difference does it make, now?"
"So…you still want to do it, then?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Good! I've already told the others." Hermione told him happily.
He marveled at how she'd managed to find the time, but then again it was Hermione.
"I gathered as much. Cho mentioned it to me at breakfast."
Ron cursed under his breath. "This bloody thing isn't doing anything but getting on my nerves…"
"Try it again, Ron. You've got to get it right. This is one of the quizzes that're supposed to indicate how well we're preparing for our O.W.L.'s, remember?"
Ron sat forward in his seat again huffily and balled up another piece of parchment. He lifted his wand, paused, and turned to her with a thoughtful yet defiant expression. "You know, it's snails we're supposed to be vanishing anyway, innit? How's practicing on parchment gonna help? It's kind of two different things, right?"
"Oh you can be so dense sometimes. Yes, you have to do it slightly differently with live things, but if you don't learn the basics you won't be able to do it at all, will you?"
Ron opened his mouth to retort but Harry stopped him. The clock in the common room sang: "Top of the twelfth hour, children! Lessons await! Pip pip!"
"Come on, then. We don't have any more time." Harry stood up and they followed suit, gathering their things. Hermione took time to carry her books up to her dorm and they left the common room together for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.
As they made their way down to McGonagall's classroom, Harry tuned out Ron and Hermione's bickering and instead lost himself in his own thoughts. He wondered why it was taking Sirius so long to answer his letter. He also hoped that Dumbledore would return soon. He felt so cut off from everyone, especially his godfather. Angelina floated to the surface of his thoughts as well, causing him to smile to himself. As they walked he didn't notice that some of the paintings were whispering to each other upon his passing them. A few even left their frames to run into their neighbors' in order to keep up with him.
A painting of one of the old caretakers cleared his throat, casting a wary eye down on him. "A little young to be sneaking around with girls, aren't we boy?"
Harry looked up at him sharply. "What?"
"In my day boys slept on one side of the castle and girls on the other!" he said dramatically, snorting and rolling his bulging eyes. "News travels in this castle. You'd best be rememberin' that." He leaned back in his ragged armchair and folded his burley arms across his chest, huffing on his pipe. It seemed that was his final word on the matter. Harry glared at him, about to inquire the source of this so-called 'news' but Hermione and Ron were ahead waiting for him to catch up to them.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked, looking back over her shoulder at the painting.
"Nothing. Got me mixed up with someone else, I guess."
Hermione didn't look convinced, but she remained silent.
In Transfiguration, the quiz McGonagall had ready for them was indeed with live snails, and not inanimate things as Harry and Ron had hoped. In fact, most of the students in the class; including Malfoy, Harry was at least pleased to see; seemed to have forgotten that this would be so, because they all did poorly. Neville Longbottom managed to make one of the legs of his desk vanish, but nothing else. Malfoy kept saying the incantation wrong, and his snail looked slightly transparent but remained visible. The same thing happened to Harry's snail, even though he was sure he was saying it right. He could only speculate that his wrist movement was wrong. Ron simply refused to try any more after he only caused his snail's shell to vanish, leaving the poor thing shivering on the desk.
Hermione got it right on the first try, of course, and her snail was nowhere to be found.
"I must say I am rather disappointed in all of you," Professor McGonagall said sternly when the quiz was over and she had made the rounds to see who had succeeded. "Not only does it seem you have not studied, but I doubt you've even paid attention in my class since the start of term! Miss Granger and Miss Patil are the only students who performed this spell correctly."
Hermione blushed but her grin remained.
"Hang on," Ron whispered as McGonagall continued to scold them. He leaned over closer to Harry and frowned thoughtfully. "I've been up to the seventh floor loads of times and I've never seen a closet across from that ugly painting thing…"
Harry shook his head distractedly. "You probably just didn't notice," he whispered back.
Hermione nudged him hard in the shoulder to get him to be quiet.
Ron, not noticing, tapped his quill against his lips. "No, no…I mean I went up there just a couple of days ago to help Neville find Trevor. I didn't see anything."
"Shhh!" Hermione hissed.
McGonagall cleared her throat harshly and they all stopped talking at once, sitting up straight at their desk. She eyed them stonily for a second and then continued speaking to the class. "Let me remind you all that your O.W.L. exams will be extremely thorough, and if you are not prepared for them it will be your own fault."
With that, she assigned them double homework, ignoring their groans of protest. The clock sang the end of the lesson and everyone gathered their things, preparing to leave.
"Honestly, if you ask me, it's because of you two that she gave us so much homework!" Hermione snapped as they made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. "What were you carrying on about, anyway?"
"None of your business, Granger," Ron retorted. "And since when do you care about getting extra homework? You love the stuff!"
"I've got loads of reading to do for Ancient Runes, Ron, and I don't appreciate being left out…"
Harry opened his mouth, on the verge of giving in and telling her what was going on, when Angelina appeared in front of him. There was a look of pure distress clouding her attractive features. "I'm calling a team meeting in the common room before dinner," she told him. Her tone was even, but Harry was certain she had run into Umbridge by now.
"Okay, then…" He wanted to say something else to her; something reassuring; but couldn't think of anything. Before he could speak again, though, she had turned on her heel and marched over to the Gryffindor table, apparently too annoyed to discuss the matter further.
Hermione frowned at Angelina's retreating back. "What's going on?"
"Umbridge." Both Ron and Harry said in unison.
"What's she done, now?" Hermione moaned, her shoulders slumping in disappointment.
"Tell you later…" Ron muttered, walking ahead of them into the Hall. Hermione glared at him.
They took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table and Harry watched as Hermione buttered a croissant, looking slightly hurt and more than a little annoyed. Harry hated keeping secrets from her, and he decided that even though he'd failed to tell her properly the first time, now was different. He sighed and quietly recounted everything he'd told Ron—even about the fire whiskey; Ron looked as if he wanted to stop Harry, but he said nothing. She sat and listened, her eyes flickering with disapproval every now and again, but she didn't interrupt him.
When he'd finished he nervously picked up a sausage with a knife and let it drop to his plate without looking at her. He waited. Ron waited. Hermione merely chewed thoughtfully.
"Well…" she began after a while. "She is a bit older than you, Harry. That doesn't bother you?"
Harry stopped spreading the mustard on his bread and stared at her. He was deeply relieved and quite surprised that she had chosen not to yell at him for drinking fire whiskey and sneaking around the school with Fred and George. He took the time to consider her question seriously. Yes, Angelina was older than him. As intimidating as that was, it was also kind of intriguing and rather flattering. Harry didn't fool himself; he knew that he was in many ways just a kid. But even from his first year at Hogwart's he had seen and done things that put him past the level of most of the students there his age, even Ron and Hermione. He knew that most of the older students could not even pretend to know what he'd known; do what he'd done. He had witnessed death and been confronted more than once by the dark wizard whose name no one dared utter but himself and very few others.
The only person who could claim that level of intimacy with such things was probably Ginny Weasley, who was sitting down just then, smiling at her boyfriend Michael Corner as he went to sit at the Ravenclaw table.
This led Harry back to his decision about teaching defensive magic to his classmates. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. And what better way to resist Umbridge's tyranny? Instead of losing his temper and saying things that he knew would get him into serious trouble, Harry would simply assume the role of make-shift D.A.D.A. teacher and resist the Ministry's offenses that way. Truthfully, this course of action would get them all into the worst kind of trouble if they were caught, but Harry had confidence for the time being that they could make it work.
"If you ask me, it's pretty wicked." Ron offered, breaking through Harry's thoughts. "Older girls are much more fascinating than girls our age."
Ginny snorted indignantly and Hermione made a face at him, but refrained from retorting to his comment. She looked at Harry expectantly.
"It doesn't bother me," he replied, taking a bite from his sausage.
Ginny looked puzzled, but did not ask what they were talking about. Harry would have told her, but he felt kind of off about it. He didn't rightly know why, but something about her knowing he and Angelina were getting closer made him hesitant. He remembered how enamored she'd been with him a while back. He told himself, however, that this had nothing to do with why he wasn't explaining the situation to her.
"Well if it doesn't bother you then I say good for you both." Hermione nodded her approval. "I remember when Viktor asked me to the Ball. I almost said no because he was seventeen and I was fourteen, but-"
"But, we're not talking about you and Viktor, Hermione." Ron cut her off, irritably biting into his roast beef sandwich. "And I'll thank you not to bring that treason up again."
"Honestly, Ronald, you're being ridiculous! If you still think that Viktor taking me to the Ball was-!"
"Hey, look, the post is here." Harry drew their attention to the windows, where a few dozen owls were swooping in, carrying various packages and letters. His eyes automatically searched for Hedwig's snowy white wings among the others, and to his delight he spotted her. She sailed toward him and landed neatly on the table next to the platter of deli meat, sticking her leg out dutifully. Harry gently untied the letter and opened it, taking a second to let her nibble a piece of bread from his plate. He read it first to himself, then in a hushed tone to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.
Same place; same time.
-Snuffles
Harry looked to Hermione for some idea on how to take this. He was glad to be hearing from Sirius, but the abrupt and all too concise letter had left him with a rather uneasy feeling developing somewhere in his stomach.
"Let's just wait and see," Hermione told him.
Harry agreed, though hesitantly, that it was a good idea to wait. He needed to talk to his godfather about so many things, and getting a little info about what was going on with the Order would be a welcome change, even though Harry knew Sirius had probably been instructed not to divulge too much. The grown ups said it was for their protection, but he often felt that the lack of knowledge was doing more harm than good.
After lunch, the trio parted ways with Ginny and headed for their Care of Magical Creatures class with Professor Grubbly-Plank. Harry had seen Angelina with the twins during the meal, but made note of how she looked to be having a fairly serious conversation with them about something. He guessed that it was probably about the so-called 'probation' that the team was under, and the meeting she'd called. He wanted to speak with her, but she seemed totally into whatever she was discussing with Fred and George, so he didn't bother.
"Ginny asked me before we left who it was we were talking about," Hermione said as they made their way down the grassy incline that led to Hagrid's cabin. "I said maybe she should ask you."
"Why?" Harry frowned at her, not mentioning the fact that he'd had the very same inclination at the table. Her saying something to him about it now only justified his earlier instinct, though it didn't explain it any better.
Hermione looked at him as if he were thick and shook her head. "Never mind. It's your business. You tell her if you want."
Harry wanted to bring up his earlier thoughts, but as they had arrived in front of Hagrid's cabin, and there were Slytherins in earshot, he decided against questioning her about it. Besides, it was probably just that he needed a chance to figure out where to go from 'I fancy you' before he told anybody else. He wondered how many people Angelina had told. Was that what she and the twins had been talking about at lunch? And why did that make him a little…uneasy…?
"Oh, there's Potter, now." Malfoy's irritatingly snide voice pierced his thoughts and he looked up to see the lanky, blond-haired boy walking towards them, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as always. "It looks as if you've heard, eh, Potter?"
"Heard what?" Ron grunted, his brow already furrowed with disdain.
Draco spared Ron one sharp, disgusted look before scoffing and turning back to Harry. "I don't believe I was speaking to you, Weasel. Potter knows what I'm talking about."
"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry said, truly ignorant of whatever it was Draco was on about. He didn't really care that much, but he always considered it a bad thing when Draco acted as if he knew something they didn't.
"Ha!" The Slytherin sneered, running a pale hand through his even paler head of hair for dramatic effect. "I'll forgive you that little slip, Potter. But when Umbridge and I judge your team at your next practice drill, you'd better not smart off."
"What?" Ron's jaw dropped and he stepped forward menacingly, but Hermione put a staying hand on his arm. "You're a ruddy liar, Malfoy!"
Again, Draco offered Ron a rather revolted look and turned his attention back to Harry. "And control your teammates. Any sass, and I might just tell old Umbridge that you're running around snogging your captain-"
Harry's hand tightened around his wand and he stepped up right alongside Ron, prepared to hex the bitter hell out of Malfoy if he didn't shut up, but then Professor Grubbly-Plank cleared her throat and asked that the class settle down. The relief in Draco's face was not lost on Harry as he backed away. Whilst the Professor was asking them questions on what they knew about unicorns, Hermione leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. Ron stepped a little closer to them to hear.
"Draco isn't bluffing you know," she told them. "It sounds just like something Umbridge would do to throw you guys off—have Draco and whoever else judge the practice drills with her."
"Yeah, and it's obvious she favors him," said Harry.
"At least for the time being." Hermione replied. "He's going to do something to upset you, and she won't let you play if you react."
"That's barking mad!" Ron hissed, drawing a rather stern ahem from Grubbly-Plank. "What is she playing at?"
"I want to know how Draco found out about me and Angelina," Harry whispered darkly, staring daggers into the back of his enemy's head. Even with his back turned, Harry saw a distinct air of triumph about the boy, and wanted desperately to fire a hex at him.
"I don't know, but I'm sure he's said something to her." Hermione offered.
Harry looked at her. He hadn't thought about that, but it did make sense. It was probably one of the reasons why she looked so serious and distressed at lunch, and of course she would tell Fred and George about what happened. They were her best friends, and she would rant to them about Malfoy because they were rather good at abusing the boy verbally. The prospect of the twins knowing mired him somewhat with nervous anticipation. Knowing Fred and George, half the Gryffindor house would've heard by dinner. And knowing Draco, half the Slytherin house already had. Harry remembered the painting of the old caretaker Guthy Cuthbert. He acted as if hearing about Angelina and Harry's kiss was first-rate gossip. Why, exactly? That feeling of uneasiness returned to him, mingling with his anger at Malfoy.
"How did he find out?" Harry whispered, more to himself than either of his two friends. He wasn't paying attention to Grubbly-Plank at all. "He must've seen us…"
"Ruddy pumpkin head!" Ron hissed. Harry looked up and saw that Draco and his friends were making very loud kissing noises and over-exaggerated swooning motions behind Grubbly-Plank's back. Pansy Parkinson threw her hand to her forehead and pretended to faint, falling over Draco dramatically. Draco frowned, pushing her off a bit, but then smirked and feigned riding an imaginary broom, shaking his head no. No more Quidditch for you, Potter, he mouthed.
If Harry weren't afraid of expulsion or detention with Umbridge, he would have taken a page from Hermione's book and punched the arsehole right in the nose.