Harry slid to the floor in the cool Ravenclaw locker room, breathing hard; sweat was pouring down his forehead despite the bitter cold he'd just escaped from. Draco did the same across the room; his own face was looking quite ghastly now that the large black bruise had spread to cover his entire left side. It looked like an oil stain, and the sweat that was coming out of his pores made it glisten eerily in the light coming from the windows.
There was only a long wooden bench to separate them.
They had split up somehow in their panic to escape from the pitch, and now Harry had no idea where George, Crabbe, and Goyle were. He hoped that they were in one of the changing rooms down the tunnel. Mostly, though, he hoped that Hagrid had made it back to his cabin and Fred had made it to safety before Umbridge came marching across the grounds to find the culprit responsible for those fireworks.
The two boys breathed, but did not speak. They could hear, in the distance, the fireworks still popping and whizzing. The shadows and flickering lights seemed to be moving, and Harry thought the twins must've designed them so they would float all around the castle, still in formation, so that everyone could see what they'd done. He could just picture Hermione watching the giant Umbridge float past her window, comprised of fizzing, multicolored fireworks.
Harry's arm was caught in a perpetual rhythm of immense pain and dull throbbing that came in intense waves, and he really wanted to get back to the castle soon to ask Hermione to mend it for him. There was no way he was going to the hospital wing. He had almost forgotten about Malfoy until he spoke finally, breaking the silence.
"Look what you've done to my face, Potter." He was gingerly touching the tender skin of his black cheek, wincing slightly. "What the hell was that spell you threw at me?"
"You broke my arm, Malfoy," Harry responded without sympathy. "Don't expect me to feel sorry for you."
"Oh I don't," despite the bruise, Draco managed a bitter little smile. "And don't expect me to feel sorry for you when you're expelled."
"What did you just say?"
Draco turned his face to the window and nodded at it, dropping his hand from his cheek and resting it on his knee. "Oh you heard me. Nice try with the ape out there, but you shouldn't have sent him away. He might've been able to stick up for you. I'm going to tell Umbridge that you shot off those fireworks and when I tried to stop you, you did this to me."
He said it with such casualness, his intention to finally see Harry chucked out, that it didn't register right away. It was a step behind Harry's actions, this remark, and the only thing that drove him was the sheer gall behind it.
Harry kicked the bench between them sideways, sending it grinding across the floor and into a group of lockers as he leapt up from the floor and seized Draco by his shirt. He brought the other boy crashing up against the lockers at his back and slammed him into them so hard that he was sure he had made a dent. Draco tried to aim his wand but Harry grabbed his arm before he could and slammed him back again.
"I've got a better idea!" Harry yelled, swinging Malfoy around brutally and throwing him into the lockers he himself had been leaning against seconds before. "How about we finish what we started on the pitch? I think we were about here!" Before he could stop himself, and before Draco could properly gather his wits to fight back, Harry drew his wand and shouted "Everte Statum!"
His own spell used against him, Draco's body twirled up and up and he flew back into the lockers again before hitting the ground hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He whimpered in pain, his half-black face contorted. Harry remembered the incantation for the hex Draco had delivered to his nose earlier and applied this to the boy's stomach and crotch.
Draco doubled over and curled up on the floor, holding his groin with shaking hands, breathing in and out in great watery gulps. Despite this, he managed to utter: "My f-father will…"
"What was that?" Harry shouted, shaking with anger. "You had no problem facing me out there with your goons around Malfoy, don't tell me you wanna run to your father now. Pick up your wand!" Harry kicked Draco's wand at him and it slid across the floor, stopping short of his elbow. Draco looked down at it and then up at Harry with a complete mixture of fear and hatred. Harry stood waiting. He no longer cared about what was happening outside. He could very faintly hear shouting, but from whom or from where it was coming he could not tell. Didn't matter.
Draco picked up his wand and got shakily to his feet.
They were in a space no bigger than a small classroom, surrounded by lockers and wooden benches—sealed in with each other, the lights from the fireworks turning their faces shades of pink and purple and orange and green. The distant POP! WHIZZ! ZING! echoed in the quiet. Harry's lips and chin were covered in dried, cracking blood. Draco looked so very pale on one side of his face, probably from the blow to the groin he'd been given, but his blue eyes shimmered.
"What are you gonna do, Potter? Kill me?"
"Thought crossed my mind."
Draco's face trembled into a look of distaste. "Over a girl?"
Harry knew that once again Draco was calling his bluff. He knew also that deep down he could not actually kill this boy. But he could hurt him. He could make sure that Draco Malfoy knew that the days of messing with Harry Potter had come to an end. He could make it so that this foul git understood that Harry was no longer going to just roll over and allow him to trample all over his friends or those he cared about.
"Do you want to bow?" Harry asked aloud now, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Let's get on with-"
"Harry! I found it!" George came crashing into the locker room; his face was still a red fur ball and drenched in sweat, but it was lit up with a grin so wide he looked almost crazed with triumph. He was holding something up in his hand, shaking it at Harry, his eyes gleaming.
"Found what?" Harry did not take his eyes off of Malfoy. He wanted so badly to hex him, but George had come bounding up to him, breathing hard and shaking whatever it was he had found. Malfoy, however, was looking at George rather intensely, and he lowered his gaze from George's excited face to what was in his hand. Harry caught him just before he was about to hit George with a hex. "Expelliarmus!"
A split second later George had produced his wand and aimed it at the little punk, shouting: "Incarcerous!"
Malfoy, who had been disarmed by Harry—his wand flying out of his hand and hitting the wall with a thin clatter—was then bound tightly where he stood with rope that had appeared out of nowhere. "Damn you, Weasel! Let me out of this, now! When Umbridge hears about it…!"
Deciding that simply binding him bodily was not enough to shut him up, Harry tilted his head, fixing Malfoy with an unimpressed gaze, and uttered: "Silencio."
Draco's yelling immediately stopped and though his mouth moved, no sound came out. He shut his mouth defiantly and glared at them. The side of his face that was not black and bruised became red with anger and he struggled, banging his back against the lockers and twisting and writhing all around to get free. There was no use, of course, and when they were both satisfied with this, Harry turned back to George. "Nice work. You'll have to teach me that some time."
"Same to you, mate." George nodded, still eyeing Malfoy spitefully. "I'll show you that if you teach me that lasso move you did out there. Where'd you learn that, anyway?"
"I did a lot of reading today," Harry explained quickly, frowning. His eyes settled on what was in George's hand. "What have you-?" It was Harry's turn to gape. After so long of suspecting – of knowing – where it was, and how it had gotten there, Harry finally had it in his sights again, and he didn't need for George to explain where he'd gotten it. But he asked in an excited whisper: "Where did you get this?"
It was Angelina's playbook.
In the background, Malfoy's struggling had ceased. He was now gazing at them, his eyes fixed forbiddingly on the book in enemy hands. Harry glanced over at him before reaching out and taking the book from George. The twin explained, in one long breath, that he had chased Crabbe and Goyle as they tried to flee to the Slytherin locker rooms. Once there, he'd been double-teamed.
"Those knobs—they're big, but slow. I managed to hit 'em with good body binds and they're in there on their backs." He let out some raspy laughter. "Crabbe's tail is getting crushed; don't think he's very comfortable right now…" He went on to explain that he noticed where he was once the goons were down and an idea blinked in his head. Malfoy's locker was not hard to locate. "His name is stenciled on it in gold trim, the git. Pomposity at its worst, but his stupid jinx was easy enough to deflect (actually I think it might have bounced off one of the lockers and hit Goyle but I didn't stay to look)."
Harry gave a tired laugh, opening the book and seeing Angelina's small, neat handwriting. He flipped through a few pages, finding without difficulty the spots were Malfoy or Montague had scribbled in notes of their own on her plays. He recognized the Slytherin captain's writing from seeing it on notes that Snape had signed giving the pitch to the Slytherin team for practice. He clenched his jaw, aware of Malfoy's now vicious silence behind him. He found a page in which Angelina had drawn a dozen little images of him, all in various stages of flying. There was one that had him hanging upside down on his broom, a ridiculous grin on his face. Only someone had written in "Potter eats dung!" and drawn a steaming pile of the stuff just under his head, so it looked like he was smiling because he could smell it. On the next page the half-finished portrait Angelina had drawn of him had been crossed out. It was rather bizarre to see his own face blinking back at him, one of his pupils devoid of ink and half his hair missing. Just above that, where Angelina had drawn herself and Harry kissing, someone had drawn an arrow sticking out of Harry's back. There were more arrows puncturing the little hearts that Angelina had drawn floating above their heads. He scoffed. Childish, he thought angrily. It pissed Harry off to imagine that that bunch of sneaky, malicious Slytherin punks making fun of him and Angelina, but even more irritating was the knowledge that Malfoy was jealous because he wished to be the person Angelina had drawn herself kissing on these pages.
Harry knew there was more; especially judging from the daggers Malfoy was shooting in their direction with his eyes; but he had seen enough for the moment. He slammed the book shut and turned to Draco, a bitter smile playing at his bloody lips.
"We haven't got much time, mate," George said, wiping his sweaty brow with his sleeve. "Let's beat the shite out of him now so we can get the bloody hell out of here."
Draco's eyes grew wide with fear and anger and he began struggling some more against Harry's ropes, opening his mouth and closing it again as if he would like nothing more than to give them both a good verbal lashing.
"What was that you were saying about getting me expelled, Malfoy?" Harry asked his enemy, ignoring George's statement. Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry but could not respond. "I thought so."
George laughed again. "Shall we leave him?"
"To try and lie on us to Umbridge? No." Harry took a step towards Draco, feeling very powerful with Angelina's book in one hand and his wand in the other. "No I've got a better idea."
Draco mouthed, "Oh yeah, and what's that Potter?"
"I knew you'd stolen this. And now I have proof. Your handwriting—and Montague's I might add—is all over it." Draco started, looking as if he wanted to ask how Harry knew his handwriting, but he had no way of doing so. His voice was gone and all he could do was stand there. "So I'm going to be giving this back to Angelina, now. But if you so much as look in her direction again, I'll take it straight to McGonagall. Not even Umbridge can ignore what's in this."
"You stole it from my locker!" Draco mouthed angrily. "That's a violation of my priva-!"
"You stole it first, you little snot!" George said loudly. "And you're not on Umbridge's good side anymore, so don't think you can lie your way out of this one."
Malfoy only glared at them.
Harry tucked Angelina's book into the back of his jeans and reached down to pick up Malfoy's wand. He slipped this down into his front pocket and reached out, grabbing Malfoy by one of the ropes binding him and turning him roughly around to face the door. "Let's go."
He pushed Malfoy out in front of him and marched him with some difficulty down the tunnel towards the Slytherin changing room. His arm burned with pain at the slightest touch and the other boy struggled against him mightily but Harry threatened to turn him into an ass like Crabbe to get him to cooperate begrudgingly. Crabbe and Goyle were still laying stiff as boards on their backs on the floor. Harry saw no sign of the jinx on Malfoy's locker on either of them, and concluded that it must've just hit somewhere away from them and died out.
"What about them, then?" George asked, rubbing his shoulder and wincing. The injury must've been from the attack the boys tried to spring on him in the locker room earlier.
Harry frowned at the pair of them, his eyes roaming over Crabbe. He gestured to the boy's struggling tail and big gray ears. "Can you fix him?"
George looked as if he'd rather not, but sighed and nodded. "Yeah..." He aimed his wand at Crabbe and muttered something under his breath. A second later the tail that was struggling to swish under Crabbe's weight disappeared and his ears and teeth began to rapidly recede until they were back to normal.
"What did you say?" Harry asked.
"Trade secret…" George shook his head disappointedly as the last of the Jackass Jinx faded. Malfoy stamped on Harry's foot and tried to dodge out of the room, but George caught him and dragged him back. A second later Draco was doubled over in pain from the swift fist to the belly the twin had delivered him.
"Thanks," Harry groaned at his throbbing toes and bent over to take the wands from Crabbe and Goyle. "Okay. Tractus Totalis."
The boys' muscles relaxed and they lay panting on the floor; Goyle's face was all red and pinched from being slapped in it repeatedly. Once they had recovered from being unable to move an inch, they got slowly to their feet, not looking as if they wanted to attack anybody else; especially not with Harry having both their wands and Draco being bound and silenced.
"We're going back up to the castle," Harry told them. "Are we gonna have any problems?"
Crabbe glared at him but shook his head. Goyle followed suit, glancing at Draco guiltily before lowering his gaze. Malfoy's nostrils flared and he rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to mime: "We'll be seen, you idiot."
Harry pushed past him and gestured for the others to follow. He had his Invisibility Cloak but it was not nearly big enough for them all and he didn't fancy the idea of Malfoy setting his eyes on it. He walked along the tunnel, feeling the cold again and trying to ignore Malfoy's statement as long as possible. Once they reached the end of the tunnel he peered out cautiously into the darkness of the empty pitch. Nothing moved. Faint multi-colored light blinked at them every now and again from the fireworks. The shouting he had heard earlier in the Ravenclaw changing room was gone, now. Harry stood still for a moment, squinting at the grass of the field before turning to the rest of them, licking his lips unconsciously. He got the metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth and leaned over to spit it out bitterly. When he straitened up again he took a breath.
"Okay, I'm guessing that half the school is awake by now. Those fireworks were pretty loud and Umbridge probably screamed her head off when she saw them—brilliant by the way George." George grinned and gave a little salute with his wand hand before aiming it at Crabbe and Goyle again. Harry shrugged. "So we'll try to blend in…"
Malfoy gave an irritated twitch and mouthed furiously: "Are you mad? Look at us!"
"Shut up, Malfoy." George shoved him sideways into the stone wall of the tunnel. "Though I have to say, you do look a ruddy mess, Harry." He gestured at Harry's bloody face, blood-stained sleeve, and wild hair.
"Well you're one to talk." Harry did likewise to George's enlarged freckle. George tried his best to fling his red hair in his face, but that only made it look even further like a copper fur ball.
Harry quickly wiped at his lip and chin several times with his sleeve again, though he knew he'd only managed to smear the drying blood over his face even more. He smoothed down his unruly hair and rolled up his sleeves despite the bitter cold now making their breath puff out before their faces. Malfoy glared at him with a spiteful and amused gleam in his cold blue eyes but Harry ignored him. "It'll have to do; if we move fast maybe we'll get lost in the crowd."
Harry admitted to himself, though not aloud, that this was a lame plan. He also allowed the fact that he was helping his enemies avoid expulsion enter his mind—but for this he had a ready justification: he was helping himself and George avoid expulsion. The fact that Malfoy and his two flunkies were along was mere circumstance. He had to get them all to the castle and back to their common rooms without being seen or they were all toast—every single one of them. He did not want to give Umbridge the satisfaction of that, even if that meant saving Malfoy too. If Harry could remove himself from the situation and get safely back to the Gryffindor Tower and have Draco take the fall, he would, but he would be implicated no matter what he did, and it wasn't his style. And what is your style, he asked himself as they crept across the field single file. You did a brilliant job of teaching Malfoy a lesson, only last time I checked he didn't have a broken arm and a bloody nose. Harry gritted his teeth at the back of Draco's head as they made it to the gate and climbed over it one by one. I got him good, though. Look at his face! Harry was worried about someone noticing Malfoy's face. It was completely covered in the black bruise on his entire left side, making him look like he was wearing a mask.
"Just keep your head down, Malfoy," he muttered to the boy as they veered off the path leading up to the castle and trekked along the side of the steep incline that separated the way to Hagrid's cabin and the way to the green houses. Harry saw the other boy's jaw move and knew he was saying something snide, voiceless as he was.
They crept around the side of the castle, taking care to stay in the shadows, for Harry could see many windows lit up with golden light above their heads and knew that people were awake. He imagined that Umbridge's fireworks were making good progress around the other side of the castle. They had seen the tip of the 'P' in 'POOP' slipping round the edge of the Astronomy Tower as they walked. He hoped that people would be drawn to the windows on that side to follow its progress while they slipped in unnoticed.
Of course, they still had to find a way in, however.
"Hey!" George hissed on cue, sticking out an arm to stop them. Harry froze, panicked for a second that they'd been spotted, but then the twin gestured at a little square window ahead of them, sitting close to the ground and lit up with warm, flickering light. The window was set into the stone wall of the castle no higher than their shins, and Harry could sense movement within. He frowned at George. "The kitchens!" the redhead whispered.
Harry nodded, suddenly understanding. The elves would help them get back safely.
Shoving Malfoy ahead of him, Harry followed George, Crabbe and Goyle towards the little window. He could just make out little figures moving about through the glass in various directions and felt relief wash over him. He got down on his knees and pressed his hands to the cold window, his breath fogging it up slightly. He saw that several house elves were busy cleaning and cooking, and he fancied he could smell biscuits baking. Harry reached down and opened the window. The elves all stopped what they were doing, their large round eyes turning as one towards Harry as he stuck his head uncomfortably in. His nostrils were immediately caressed with the sweet smell of chocolate chip biscuits, but he ignored it and hissed at the nearest elf: "Can we come in?"
"Why, yes sir, of course you can!" squeaked the little elf, his round eyes wide with earnest welcome, despite the odd manner in which this visitor was entering their midst.
"Thanks!" Harry immediately began shoving the rest of his body in through the little window. He winced at the jolt of pain he got when he put pressure on his injured arm to bring his feet inside.
"You must be cold, master! Care for some hot chocolate?" The elf raised his tiny little hands to help Harry topple through. His peers began to gather round where they were, gazing up at Harry curiously, though politely.
Harry shook his head at the elf and turned to help George through. "No, thanks…er…what's your name again?"
"They calls me Pink, sir, though I don't really know why!" The elf answered sheepishly. Harry couldn't see anything pink on or about the creature, either.
"Well, no thanks Pink. We just need to come in through this window and get back up to our rooms without being seen. Do you know where Dobby is?"
"Dobby is here, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby's hats appeared before he did, but Harry made him out among the crowd as Malfoy came crashing to the floor, still bound by the magical ropes. The boy cursed silently and kicked at the wall next to him viciously, causing several of the elves to hiccup with fright and scurry out of the way. George pulled him roughly to his feet again and Malfoy did not thank him for it.
"How can Dobby be of service, sir?"
"Can you help us get to our common rooms like you did for me that last time?"
Dobby's eyes narrowed at Draco for a moment before he whispered, "Even mean Master Malfoy, sir?"
"Er…yes, even him Dobby. Please. I'm asking you."
"Of course, for Harry Potter, sir."
As they left the kitchens the elves insisted that they took some freshly baked biscuits and Harry's pockets were full of the warm, gooey things when he stepped out into the hall behind Dobby.
Angelina paced in the dark common room, feeling as if her nerves were going to jump out of her body.
She had been pacing up in her dorm but she found that her movement disturbed her roommates so she moved down here to walk about wringing her hands and cursing at herself under her breath. This was all her fault. She should've just told Harry what was going on with her from the off. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten so reckless in his anger. If she had simply just said that she thought Malfoy had attacked her for her playbook instead of taking his suspicions about rape and running with them, none of this would've happened.
But then she was just fooling herself.
She knew perfectly well that if all Malfoy wanted was to steal her stupid playbook, he wouldn't have resorted to Obliviating her.
Harry, headstrong Harry…he was defending her down there. What were they doing to each other? Didn't they care that it could all be over for them if someone noticed? It was a little over forty-five minutes past midnight and she got more and more nervous with each passing second. She wanted to go down there but she really didn't.
Just then she heard a noise, and she looked up to see Hermione walking down the steps from the girls' dorms, looking just as awake and nervous as Angelina felt.
"You can't sleep, either?" the bushy-haired fifth year asked unhappily. Angelina shook her head. "This is madness!" Hermione snapped, throwing herself on the chaise lounge and crossing her arms. "Harry has lost all capacity for rational thought! What is with him this year?"
Angelina sighed and sat down in an armchair near her. She stared at the empty fireplace. "I think it's me. I think I've driven him to it. I shouldn't have lied to him."
"Angelina…" Hermione was looking at her with such concern that it made her feel even more guilty. "What happened?"
"I don't know exactly. I just wish Harry hadn't found out before I could remember everything."
There was quiet for a while. Angelina could feel the passing seconds dredging along. She had the strongest desire to jump up from the chair and run as fast as she could down to the pitch and grab Harry from the awful fight she knew he was in the middle of. Tell him she was sorry. Hug him up and thank him for defending her. Just tell him…something other than what she had told him before. The look on his face when she said she had to think about things…what the hell was there for her to think about? She really wanted to be with him.
"I should have told him the truth…" she muttered to herself.
"I don't really think Harry would've left it up to you no matter what you told him," Hermione replied earnestly. "Ron and I even tried to talk some sense in him—he wouldn't listen to a word we said."
Angelina shook her head distractedly. "This is exactly what he wanted, damn him."
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah…." Angelina scoffed at herself, feeling utterly ridiculous all of a sudden. "Harry is just as mad at me as he is at Malfoy."
"He's just a boy; he doesn't know any better…" Hermione offered, shrugging. She had her wand with her and she lazily flicked it, muttering "Incendio…" so a bright crackling fire erupted in the fireplace. "If boys took the time to pay attention to things we'd all be a lot better off."
"You and Ron haven't gotten started yet, have you?" Angelina asked suddenly, casting a knowing glance at the other girl.
Hermione smiled sadly. "We've just gotten back to normal. He hasn't mentioned what he did," she explained, referring to the kiss. "And I haven't heard back from Viktor yet."
Angelina gave a wry smile, despite her mood. "Viktor Krum. Hmmm, we all thought it was so interesting that he chose you to accompany him to the Ball."
Hermione made a face. "Why?"
"Well…" Angelina gave Hermione a sort of appraising look. "You're not like any of the girls who usually fall all over themselves around people like him. We just figured the two of you would never think twice about each other."
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, and then sighed quietly. They sat in silence for a while, Angelina gazing at the fire but not really seeing it—she was thinking of Harry. Worrying for him. Stumbling footsteps could be heard coming from the boys' stairs and seconds later Ron descended, looking sleepy but alarmed.
"They've left me! Have they left me?"
He rubbed his eyes groggily and the girls could see that he had dressed in haste—his robes were hanging off him in a sloppy fashion and he was missing a shoe. He held his wand in hand, however. Hermione walked over to him and took his hand, leading him towards where she'd been sitting. "You've missed them, and I'm glad for it," she muttered, pushing him down onto the couch. He bounced a bit on the soft cushions, his mouth hanging open with disappointment.
"Why didn't Harry wake me?" he muttered, leaning back and closing his eyes as if he would fall back asleep right there. "I wanted to go…"
"Go and get yourself expelled? Good thinking, Ronald." Hermione responded, sitting down next to him.
"Oh be quiet, Hermione." Ron's eyes came open again and he frowned at her. "Harry's doing this for a good reason, you know. I don't get why you can't understand that. Weren't you listening to him at the last D.A. meeting? All that stuff he said about protecting each other…"
"He meant in the face of real trouble! Like a Death Eater attack or something, not blind, petty ego!"
"Listen, if you think Harry should've sat 'round twirling his thumbs while Malfoy felt up his girlfriend-!" Ron was fully awake, now and he realized that he was talking about Angelina while she was sitting right there. He shut his mouth and looked over at her, his cheeks still flushed from his indignant speech at Hermione. "Sorry, Angelina…"
Angelina blinked at him but didn't respond. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "Well done, Ron."
"I said I was sorry!"
Before Hermione could open her mouth to retort, Fred came bursting through the portrait hole, breathing like a troll and sweating bullets. Everyone jumped up from their seats at the sight of him, and Angelina rushed forth, her heart racing. "Fred, what happened?"
"I just made it!" Fred gasped, grinning crookedly despite his panting. "Came this close to running into Filch on my way up here-!"
BANG!
Hermione screeched and flew into Ron's arms. Angelina turned around swiftly, her wide eyes landing on the window, where they could see multi-colored sparks flying around everywhere as the fireworks Fred had lit the fuse to now exploding into formation. The dazzling colors swelled before their eyes, muting all other light for a moment before popping back again with loud screams of sound.
"Oops, yeah and I had to set those off…" Fred added, drawing their attention back to him.
"Fred, what happened out there?" Angelina demanded, touching his face, which was hot from the running he had done. "Where are Harry and George? Were you caught?"
"No, not really. Well, yes, but-"
"You were?" Hermione gasped in horror. "Oh no!"
"Relax, Granger, it was just Hagrid." Fred reassured her, still breathing like mad from his excursions. The fireworks boomed and whirled outside, the lights hitting their faces in bright greens and blues.
"Hagrid's back?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, but I dunno if they were able to talk some sense into him. He was pretty fired up."
"Well I don't blame him, and now look what you've done!" Hermione walked over to the windows, where they could see the giant Umbridge with her enormous arse floating above the grounds in the distance. Hermione made a face that twisted from austerity to slight amusement upon sight of the huge 'EAT POOP' that glittered brightly above Umbridge's head. "Oh, really, how crass…"
"I think it's brilliant, meself…" Ron said simply. She actually smiled then.
They could hear commotion coming from the tops of the stairs, and knew that the loud fireworks had disturbed a lot of the others. Angelina grabbed Fred's arms and turned him to face her. "Where are Harry and your brother?"
"Down the pitch still, I think." He shrank back from her fiery glare, but she would not release him. "Harry warned me, I had to set off the-!"
"If Harry is caught with your brother out there I'll never forgive you!" she shouted at him. He set his jaw and shook himself from her grip. "Fred! Why did you guys have to go after Malfoy? I can take care of myself! Look at the mess you've made!"
"We didn't just do it for you, Angelina!" he yelled back. Kids were starting to descend upon them, now, their sleepy forms lumbering down the stairs from both the girls' and boys' dorms. "You don't understand, all right? This whole school has gone to the dogs! You think a little duel on the pitch is a big deal? You think Umbridge won't find some other way to chuck us all out? She's poison, she'll spread no matter what and Harry's right to stand up for himself!"
Hermione was making small shushing noises at him, trying in vain to get him to lower his voice, but Gryffindors were grouped all around them now, some of them torn between watching the fireworks and gazing at the argument in their midst.
"Fireworks aren't the worst I can do…" Fred glowered, heeding Hermione's warnings. Angelina stared at him, not willing to argue anymore. She knew deep down that he was right.
Dean stepped forward out of the crowd, Ginny close on his heels, and muttered: "Fred, what happened, mate?"
But Fred had no time to answer, for through the portrait hole strode Minerva McGonagall, dressed in her tartan nightgown, her long grayish red hair hanging down her back. She adjusted her spectacles and surveyed them all, her stern expression illuminated by the popping fireworks.
"What is going on here?" she asked them. Fred stood panting, Angelina at his side looking distraught. Hermione was gripping Ron's arm, a pinched look on her face that could be mistaken for many things, guilt included. Ron simply blinked at the woman blankly. Everyone else did the same, all in their pajamas, all silent. She sighed heavily and adjusted her glasses again. "As you probably have noticed, someone-" her eyes fell particularly on Fred as she said this, "-set of fireworks over the grounds just now. I'll have to go and join Professor Snape and Professor Flitwik to dispose of them. I suggest you all go back to your rooms."
"But can't we watch them a little longer, Professor?" someone whined.
McGonagall did not shift her gaze from Fred, but she made no move to reprimand him in any way. She was on the point of answering the second year boy when they heard shrill yelling coming from outside the portrait hole: "Let me through this instant!"
"I've told you a hundred times, you must give me the password!"
"I did!"
"It's changed! Do you have the new one?"
"I DON'T NEED ANY 'NEW ONE'! I AM THE HIGH INQUISITOR AND I DEMAND-!"
McGonagall had gone in a flash, her tartan nightgown billowing in the breeze her swift movements made. She had stepped through and disappeared over the threshold in seconds. Angelina wasted no time.
"You left them on the pitch, didn't you?"
"Had no choice," Fred answered steadily. "But like I was trying to say before: the fireworks are a distraction. They'll be chasing Umbridge's fat arse all around the grounds, and it'll take the lot of them to take it down. It's supposed to be coming this way soon, it'll draw them away from the pitch and Harry can get back safely…"
"I hope you're right, Fred…" Angelina took a deep breath and let it out. She posed the next question very carefully. "Are you…hurt?"
Fred shook his head and gave her a tired smile. "No." There was a heavy pause and then he added: "But Harry is, a little."
Angelina's heart sank.
They could hear more shouting through the portrait hole and this time students were torn between staring out the windows to laugh at the Umbridge made of flickering sparks and listening to the real Umbridge's heated row with their Head of House just outside. Once the voices died down, McGonagall came stomping back in, her face flushed with anger.
"Everyone off to your beds this instant!" Kids scattered everywhere, fleeing her wrath. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Angelina, and Fred turned to flee too but she cleared her throat loudly. "You five stay put!" They halted in their tracks, turning around slowly to face her. She glared at them for a long time, the lights of Fred and George's fireworks steadily drawing nearer. "Where is Mister Potter?"
They all stood blinking at her stupidly, none of them prepared to offer an excuse.
"Er…" Ginny attempted. "Still asleep, ma'am?"
McGonagall offered a tart smile. "Oh you'll have to do better than that, Miss Weasley, because I've just come from a row with our so-called High Inquisitor, who is determined-to say the least-to search these premises for him and any evidence that he was responsible for that." She pointed a long, slender finger at the window, where they could see Stunning and Reductor spells zooming past to hit the ghastly display. They could faintly hear what sounded like Snape's irritated voice and a second later one of the P's in POOP had dissolved and blinked out. She turned her harsh gaze on Fred again. "When I know, Mister Weasley, that you probably had a hand in this, and why you would risk yourself to that horrible woman's wrath is beyond me."
"I didn't do anything!" Fred reacted defensively but she silenced him.
"I do hope you realize that you are risking more interference by the Ministry. That woman will have another one of her loathsome decrees up at first light, this time to gain permission to search the very rooms where you sleep! Is that what you want?" She shook her head at him in disbelief, her incredulous gaze moving from him to each of them in turn.
"No, ma'am that's not what we want at all…" Hermione offered quietly.
"So you will kindly tell Potter to stop whatever it is he is doing and behave. The same goes for every single one of you!"
They could all only gape at her, gobsmacked by the fact that she was not chucking them all out, including the absent Harry, on the spot. She tightened her arms around herself, drawing the nightgown closer to her body, and looked at them funnily for a moment as they muttered their obedience. Angelina fancied she saw the corner of the older witch's mouth twitch, like she was trying to suppress a smile.
"One has to marvel at the craftsmanship, I suppose…" she muttered, still looking at them in that funny way. "How long would it take…one…to design something like that?"
Fred hesitated, squinting suspiciously at her for a second, before shrugging. "Couple of months…"
"Well. Despite the obvious fact that it is completely against school rules and very disrespectful to our High Inquisitor-" her voice wavered on that phrase, like laughter was trying to ripple through against her will… "-it's a rather impressive bit of magic. Too bad it's being done away with so easily…" she nodded at the window again, where Umbridge's hefty bottom was being slowly cut down to size, the fireworks fizzing out when being it by Stunning Spells and Reductor Curses. McGonagall sighed. "I'd better go and help them. Off to bed, all of you, and detention with me for the next week Weasley."
When she was gone again, Fred scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hey, that's not a bad idea…" he muttered, seemingly unaffected by his sentence to a week in detention. "I'm gonna tell George; we need to figure out a way to make them resistant to Stunning Spells and such…or…ha! We could make them multiply and get bigger when those sods try to-!"
"You won't be telling George anything if he's caught out there with Harry," Ginny interrupted, flopping down on the couch and crossing her arms.
Fred's excited expression faded and he sat down next to her, followed by Angelina, Ron, and Hermione. He draped an arm around Angelina and squeezed her apologetically. She sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder.
"At least tell us what happened," Ron said from his position sitting cross-legged on the hearth rug.
"It was brilliant," Fred said, smiling again. Ron groaned, clearly upset at being left behind. "Harry hit Malfoy right in the eyes with a Stinging Hex!"
They had missed Snape by mere seconds. The kitchens were just on the other side of the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was, and Snape had swept past and out onto the grounds just as Harry and the others turned a corner that would've lead them right into his path. If Draco had realized this he probably would have run for it, but he looked hopeful still that they would run into the Potions Master while down here.
Dobby led them to the Slytherin common room, and just outside they stopped. "Shall I take you in the fire, Harry Potter, sir?"
"No, no that's okay, Dobby. These guys'll go in by themselves."
"What about my face, Potter!" Malfoy tried to yell at him. "And what you've done to my voice! LIFT THE CHARM!"
Harry found Malfoy's indignant sputtering quite amusing, but he had no idea what he was going to do about that giant bruise. He did not fancy the idea of allowing Draco to go to the hospital wing tonight. But he couldn't just ignore it—the thing was huge, and someone was bound to notice it the second he walked in the door. Crabbe and Goyle looked beat up and tired, but their sluggishness could more easily be passed off than Draco's disfigured face. Harry could just picture the little sod crying to Umbridge, claiming he was ambushed.
He really did not want to be helping this boy in any way, but nor did he want to be packing his trunk and heading off Hogwarts grounds forever tonight.
Clenching his jaw, Harry nodded: "Fine."
"Fine, what? Harry…" George gave him a warning look. He seemed to want to just chuck them in and be done with them, but they both knew they had to do it this way.
"We can't stand out here in the open. Maybe…" Harry tried to think. "Maybe Dobby, you could run and fetch something from Madame Pomfrey's…" he stopped, suddenly remembering something. "I've got it. We need to get up to Gryffindor Tower."
"I'm not leaving these sods to go and run to Umbridge, Harry," George growled.
"Then we'll take them with us, but we have to be careful. Just come on; let's not stand here any longer." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but George shoved him forward and they followed Dobby, who led them through a series of corridors that Harry had no idea existed. "Dobby…is this the way…?"
"Trust Dobby, Harry Potter. Dobby knows the way." The elf turned to beam up at him, snapping his little fingers so that a wall shifted aside for them, revealing a narrow staircase that winded up, up, up into the darkness. "Many secrets in this castle, sir…many, many…and Dobby knows them all, now."
Harry worried that Malfoy shouldn't be seeing this, but as he looked behind him he saw that the corridors and walls seemed to be changing even as they made their way forward, and did not look like where they'd come through before. He had no idea, even in his many adventures in these halls after curfew, that the castle was so vast and so complicated. Dobby snapped his fingers and torches sprang to light as they made their way up the twisting, winding steps. Crabbe and Golye panted, but being wandless they did not complain.
Up they climbed, until finally they emerged into a dark, dusty, empty corridor. Thick cobwebs hung from almost every corner, and the walls were covered in dust and dirt. The floor was so coated in the stuff that their footsteps did not even reveal the actual surface of what they were stepping on, only more dust. Dobby bounced along, turning his head every now and then to offer Harry an approval-seeking smile. Harry returned the smile distractedly, noticing that they were nearing an opening and could swear he saw the portrait of the fat lady just around the corner. He frowned.
This space they were approaching had never been open. It was near the large window that faced the staircase adjacent to the fat lady. It was solid wall, this was. Funny thing, though—they could see through it now. It was as though the wall had never been there.
"Dobby is this just like with the fireplace?" Harry asked, and the little elf nodded his hat-laden head.
They could hear raised voices, now. Dobby halted and Harry motioned for the others to do the same, turning and aiming his wand at Malfoy. He told the boy with his eyes that he would blast him if he made a move. George did the same to Crabbe and Goyle. Draco looked as if he were trying to strangle Harry with his gaze.
"I AM THE HIGH INQUISITOR AND I DEMAND-!" That was Umbridge. Harry's heart gave a lurch and his palms went sweaty, causing him to tighten his grip on his wand. He did not turn away from Draco.
"Just a second, Delores, why are you shouting at the fat lady?" McGonagall's voice.
"Minerva, have you seen-?"
"Yes, I have. I was on the point of getting my students back in bed when I heard you screaming out here like a madwoman."
"How dare you speak to me that wa-!" Harry knew Umbridge's face was probably beet-red and swollen like a pimple about to pop. He tilted his head at Draco in warning. The boy looked about ready to run for it.
"She wouldn't give me the password, Professor!" The fat lady spoke, now, sounding wholly offended. "I explained to her that I am forbidden to open without it, but she wouldn't listen."
"You were quite right to, Fat Lady." Minerva said gently.
"But I need to search this-!" Umbridge sputtered.
"Search?" Minerva's voice was high pitched and shrill now, just like Umbridge's but with a little more menace. "Search what? You cannot possibly mean that you intend to search my common room or any of my students quarters?" and she laughed at Delores, which Harry knew really pissed the fat toad off, like the other woman had gone mad to even suggest it.
"Yes. That is exactly what I intend to do. I know one of your students—specifically one Harry Potter and probably with help from his little hooligan friends—set off that ghastly display over the grounds!"
"And what proof do you have?" McGonagall asked fervently.
"The proof, Minerva, is in there! And I must say I consider your refusal to step aside quite treacherous!"
"Perhaps," McGonagall countered, her voice stiff and sharp as a blade. "It would be a better idea to search the grounds first. I believe your culprit may not have had time yet to flee the scene. The longer we waste standing here, the more time he or she has to escape your good judgment, Delores."
"I've already sent Professor Snape and others."
"Good. I'll join him, then."
"But, the password, Minerva!" Umbridge snapped.
"Oh I thought I made myself clear—I'm not going to give it to you." Umbridge sounded as if she were going to scream some more, but McGonagall cut her off. "I believe it was you, Delores, who told me not so long ago when I intended to search the Slytherin locker room for Angelina Johnson's stolen property that our students' privacy was not to be tampered with."
"You-you…you…!" Umbridge sputtered, enraged.
"So…" Professor McGonagall sounded almost casual, now, as though they were discussing what time to meet for tea. "I feel no hesitancy whatsoever in telling you that my students' quarters are their own private dwellings while they remain here at Hogwarts and searching any of them is out of the question."
"Insubordination!" screeched Delores. "You-you're on probation, Professor!"
"Very well. But either way, you won't be coming in here tonight. Now if you'll excuse me I must finish seeing my students back to their beds. They have classes tomorrow and I will not have them falling asleep during my quiz. I'll be down on the grounds momentarily to help Professor Snape."
Harry heard the fat lady creak open for the Professor, who must have merely mouthed the password silently. He heard a heavy "clack" and a frustrated grunt, guessing that Umbridge must've tried to hurry in after McGonagall and the portrait closed in her face. Seconds later he heard Umbridge's heels clicking angrily on the smooth floor as she stomped away. McGonagall was frightening, but for the moment she was Harry's hero.
They waited until she had left too before Harry crept along behind Dobby and, to their left, the portrait of the fat lady was in their sights. She was muttering huffily to herself, probably still upset over being shouted at by Umbridge. Harry stopped them again and turned to George. "Okay, I'll be right back. Stay here with them."
"Right. Hurry up, though."
Harry hesitated in leaving George alone with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, but he had both their wands and his own was aimed with a steady hand. He looked ready to hex the hell out any of them who tried to mess with him. And besides, Harry reminded himself, he took on both Crabbe and Goyle in the Slytherin changing room and won.
Harry followed Dobby as he waved his tiny hand at the invisible wall, allowing them to walk through into the hall and they slid past the stone bust again. Harry once again found himself being led through a dark, on-stretching corridor and then turning sharply to walk down towards the fireplace in the common room. He saw the fire crackling and it warmed his chilled bones. Beyond it he could make out Ron's lanky body sitting cross-legged on the hearth rug, his back to them. As they drew closer he saw four other heads turned his way—one of them unmistakably Angelina's. They were talking. Harry could hear Fred's phonic voice, saying something about a Stinging Hex. Dobby snapped his fingers and the fire died out, causing Ron to turn and peer at them curiously, though Harry knew he couldn't see them.
They walked through, startling the wits out of everybody. Ron jumped up from the hearth rug and whirled around.
"Harry!" everyone seemed to cry at once.
He jumped hurriedly over the still burning embers and was besieged with questions, but above that there was Angelina rushing forth to hug him tight. Before he could stop her she had him in a grip that nearly toppled him with pain. He sucked in his breath and pushed away from her, squeezing his eyes shut to cope with the intensity of it as it coursed through his arm.
"Ow, ow don't touch my-!" he hissed, breathing hard.
"Goodness, Harry you're hurt really badly!" Hermione moaned, stepping towards him. "Oh, didn't I tell you to be careful?"
He looked from Angelina's distraught face to Hermione's and then to the rest of them, landing on Fred. Ignoring Hermione's question, Harry nodded at the other Weasley twin. "Thanks for the fireworks."
"No problem…where's George?"
"Oh he's waiting." Harry suddenly remembered himself and despite his agonizingly hurting arm, he squeezed Angelina's shoulder and said firmly: "I have something for you when I get back, okay?"
She opened her mouth but he didn't wait till she said 'okay' before he turned and swept past them all. He noticed despite his determination that they were all staring at his bloody face and dirty clothes, quite horrified, as he took the stairs up to the boys' dorms two at a time. His arm felt like it did not belong to his body. It was a burning, pulsing, heavy thing that quivered in pain with every step he took. He burst through the door to his room, where Dean, Seamus, and Neville were sitting on their haunches on Neville's bed staring at the fireworks and laughing raucously.
"Harry, mate, where've you been?" Dean asked in surprise as Harry went straight across the room to his trunk and flung it open, causing Hedwig to flutter indignantly at her perch on his headboard. "You look bloody awful. You been in a fight?"
"Something like that," Harry said distractedly, rummaging through endless clothes, quills, books, and junk until he found what he was looking for. Clasping his hand around the glass vial that Madame Pomfrey had given him when he'd gone down to ask her about treating crossed eyes, he scooped it up along with all the cotton balls that had come with it and slammed the trunk shut with his foot.
The other boys were calling to him but he waved them off and hurried out again.
As he jumped down from the last three steps back into the common room, Hermione said frantically: "Harry, wait, Fred's just told us your arm may be broken! You're hurt, slow down!"
"I'll be right back!" he called, already following Dobby back through the fireplace and out of sight again.
"Blimey…" Ron muttered. "You'd think he would stay put after narrowly escaping the way he did…"
Angelina gave a frustrated grunt and hopped over the fire grill, determined to follow him. She reached out and touched her hands to the stone back, which was very hot. And solid. Cursing under her breath she turned around again and allowed Ron to help her back over.
"If he gets caught now I'm going to kill him!"
Harry made it back to them and thrust the vial at Malfoy, who blinked at him blankly. "Here. Put it on your face. It gets rid of bruises."
Draco looked down at the vial and then back up at him, narrowing his eyes with distrust. "And how am I supposed to do that? Let me out of these bloody ropes!"
Harry couldn't decided if having Draco mouth everything passionately was more or less annoying than listening to him yell like the brat he was. They were all silent for a moment before Harry took a breath and drew back the vial, pulling his wand back out of his pocket. Malfoy watched him expectantly, but Harry did not release the ropes right away. Instead he fixed Draco with a stony stare, deciding that he wanted to make something clear first.
"Before I give you this, let's get something straight—I hate your slimy guts, Malfoy," he said matter-of-factly. Draco sneered and shook his head, his eyes conveying that he hated Harry right back. "Yeah, I know you hate me, too. So don't think because I'm helping you I'm soft, or I'll allow you to pull anything in the future." He reached behind him and pulled out Angelina's playbook from his jeans. Draco glared at it. "If Hagrid hadn't come, I would have been glad to keep going, and I think you know that." Draco merely stared at him. "Your father is already cross with you. Don't piss him off even more by getting chucked out. You try to take me down, I'll take you right down with me. Got it?"
Draco gave no indication that he would comply, but Harry knew he would. Deep down Draco knew that Harry was right, and that he did not want any more trouble with his father. He probably loathed Harry immensely for having that glimpse into his private life. Harry also did not expect his leverage to last long, but he knew if he stood his ground and showed no signs of weakness, Malfoy would likely think twice about trying anything else for a long time.
"I've got friends, and I'm not stupid. You get in my face and I'll get right back in yours, Malfoy. If you want to keep trying to get me out, you better be warned…I don't go down easy."
"Right!" George agreed, jabbing Goyle with his wand. "You heard that? Stupid git…"
"As for Angelina…" Harry's voice grew more threatening and he stepped forward as Draco stepped back. "You touch her again…I'll do more than just bruise your face."
"He's not alone in that," George said menacingly.
After a beat in which these statements settled over them, Harry released Malfoy from the ropes. For a moment the boy looked like he was going to try and tackle Harry right there in the dusty corridor. Poor Dobby's wide eyes shown with nervous fright as he looked from face to face, but Malfoy merely smoothed his hair, his mouth shut tight, and reached out for the vial. Harry handed it to him.
Draco uncapped the potion and sniffed at it, his eyes flickering at Harry with disdain before he turned it over and saturated a cotton ball with the clear liquid. After a moment's hesitation, Draco rubbed the stuff across his bruised cheek. Seconds later the black bruise began to drain purple, thin bright pink, and finally died out to a slightly flushed fleshy color. Draco did this to the rest of the black surface and the same thing occurred. The side of his face where the bruise had been was now a little off-color, meaning that it was what normal skin should look like, not Draco's usually pasty tone. But, then gradually that bit of color faded, too.
He thrust the vial and cotton balls back at Harry, who took them and stuffed them in his pocket amongst the now cooled chocolate chip biscuits the elves had given him.
"My voice, Potter," he mouthed.
Harry aimed his wand and Draco's throat and uttered: "Recipero Vox."
Draco coughed, clearing his throat loudly and wasting no time before he rasped: "If you ever-!"
"Pipe down, Malfoy!" George interrupted. "Unless you wanna get covered in boils."
Malfoy glared at George but did not attempt to yell again. He instead scoffed at the twin and turned his smirking gaze back to Harry. "You've got friends, do you Potter? You mean this sorry lot? The Weasels and your ugly little Mudblood friend Granger?"
"Watch your mouth, Malfoy or I'll silence you again."
"Right, you listen to me." Malfoy stepped up to him but Harry did not step back. "You can make all the threats you like, and you may have that stupid playbook back. I don't care about any of that any more. I do hate you, Potter. Much more than you think you know…school? School means nothing. I'm talking about the real world, Potter."
"Oh yeah?" Harry breathed, meeting Draco's gaze.
"That's right. My father has friends, too. And those friends are powerful. I'm going to join them, soon. You know what I'm talking about. You want to kill me because I got a feel on your little girlfriend?"
Harry's wand hand jerked up and the tip threatened to skewer Draco's chin. "Keep talking," he gritted.
Draco did keep talking, though he was clearly shaken by the presence of Harry's wand at his throat. "I don't need to get you expelled, Potter. You can have your girlfriend. I'll see you on the other side. We'll find out who's really got the guts to kill."
"I'll be waiting…" Harry almost whispered. He stared Malfoy down for a moment, feeling raw hatred coursing through him, before turning sharply and startling poor Dobby so that he jumped and squeaked as he commanded tersely: "Dobby get them back to the dungeons."
"Y-Yes Harry Potter, sir!"
"Get the hell out of here, Malfoy."
"Give me back my wand, Potter. And theirs, too Weasel."
"Call me that again…" George growled.
Harry reached into his pocket and drew out Malfoy's wand. He tossed it on the dusty floor. Draco sneered at him and bent to pick it up, wincing as he nearly lost his balance on his injured shin. George did the same with Crabbe and Goyle's wands. They could easily have resumed their duel in this dark corridor, but both parties backed away from each other, Dobby glancing back at Harry apprehensively as he lead the way back where they'd come.
When they had finally disappeared into the dusty darkness and Malfoy had turned around, Harry stared after them feeling quite clearly as if his life had just been threatened. This only served to fuel the anger and hatred he felt for Draco Malfoy. He was not afraid. He was ready. If Malfoy thought he and his father would get him, they had another thing coming.
Harry knew with certainty that his feud with the young Malfoy had been elevated, just then, to a level beyond the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And this had been revealed, as Malfoy had said earlier, because of a girl.
Angelina.
Harry stepped through the portrait hole with George, his eyes searching her out. She was there, still looking nervous and on edge. She didn't move to embrace him this time, but stood watching him walk wearily into the common room. He came to a stop across from her, their gazes locked. He felt…he felt so very glad to see her, and all the anger he had against her melted.
Everyone stared at him. Hermione looked like she was going to burst if she didn't say something to him soon, but she waited. Harry breathed, feeling very tired and hurting all over. He held out Angelina's playbook, still not taking his eyes off of hers.
"George found this."
She slowly looked down at it, her mouth coming open slightly. "Where?"
"In Malfoy's locker in the Slytherin changing room."
"Oh, Harry…George…thank you!"
Harry gave her a weak smile and sank to the floor, causing everyone to gasp and rush to his aide. He merely brushed them away, sitting on his bum on the hearth rug, the warmth from the embers in the fireplace soothing the chill that was upon him. Everyone sat around him, some on the couch, some on the floor next to him. Angelina put the playbook down and sat directly across from him.
"I'm glad you made it back safely…"
"Me, too."
"I'm sorry I tried to-to stop you." She said quietly, and with some difficulty, he noticed.
"I'm not…" Hermione muttered.
Harry felt his broken bone burn again and looked up at her. "Hermione…do you think you could stop being mad at me long enough to…heal this?"
Hermione's cross expression melted quickly and she grabbed her wand. "Oh, your arm, you poor thing! Malfoy's a vicious little slug!"
"I got him back for it…" Harry panted softly, now watching Angelina watch him. The colors from the lingering fireworks outside lit up her face very nicely. He wanted to reach out and touch her skin, but Hermione was upon him. "Please be gentle, will you?"
Hermione gingerly helped him remove his jumper. Angelina helped him out of his shirt. He bit his lip at the pain as Hermione sat thinking. "Well…erm…I think I know how to do it properly, but it's risky Harry. Are you sure you don't want to just go to the hospital wing?"
He shook his head. "Just don't make my bones disappear."
She gave a wary sigh and aimed her wand at the tender flesh of his upper arm. "Emendo Ossis." It sounded to Harry like she was guessing, and he braced himself for the sludgy feeling of his bones evaporating and the flesh around them sinking in on itself. But his arm only burned warmly for a second and then he felt the pain ease off. He looked down and saw that the bruised skin around the wound was clearing up as well.
"Thanks…" He tried to flex it, but it was still tender.
"You'd better not move it too much," Hermione said, sounding extremely relieved. "I don't think I'm very strong in the Healing Spell department. That bone might still need time to mend by itself. Here…" She got up quickly and ran up the stairs to her room. When she returned, she was carrying a pair of black school socks. "Diffindo." Hermione tore open the seam in the foot of one of the socks and held it out to him once she'd cut open a smaller whole for his thumb. "These things are really tight, it'll keep your arm stable until it heals properly."
"Um…" he made a face at the sock.
"Well, it's clean! And it's the best we can do without going to Pomfrey…" She slipped it on, where it went up to his shoulder almost. He let her shrink it a little to make it tighter and then she sat back on her haunches and beamed at him. "There. That's better isn't it?"
He awarded her a grim smile. "Yeah..." Hermione set to work after that healing his cut cheek and fixing George's freckles. Harry's nose wasn't broken, by some miracle, and all that was left to do when she finished was wipe away the remainder of the blood. Harry got to his feet before she could fuss over him any more and sighed pointedly. "Listen, cheers for all that, but I'm really knackered."
"Aren't you guys gonna tell us what happened out there?" Ron demanded.
"I'm still awake," Fred answered him.
"Yeah, me too…" George agreed.
Harry gestured to them, shaking his head at Ron. "There. They'll tell you everything. I've got to go to sleep before I drop."
"Harry." He turned and saw Angelina coming towards him. "Can I…?"
He nodded silently and she escorted him up to his room.
Dean, Neville, and Seamus were all asleep in Neville's bed, having watched the teachers try to get rid of all the fireworks to the point of dozing off. Harry caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall and saw that he had been down in the common room with them till almost two in the morning. Angelina disappeared for a bit as Harry sat down on his own bed, leaning over and closing his eyes. His arm, clad in the tight black stocking Hermione had given him, rested gently on his knee. He was going over and over Malfoy's words to him in his head. He was certain that boy expected to become a Death Eater like his father.
Angelina came back with a towel that she'd soaked in hot water. She pulled his trunk up to the edge of the bed where he was and sat on it, lifting his chin to her level. He sat silently and let her begin wiping the dried blood away.
Angelina shook her head, shuddering as she looked into his green eyes. He didn't speak; only let her gently wipe the blood from his chin and lips. She felt heavy in her chest and stomach. She had been so afraid for him, but now he was back from his duel…safe and not expelled or beaten with a whip.
"Did you think about things?" he spoke just as she passed the warm towel over his upper lip.
"Yes…" Angelina moved up to wipe under his nose, pretending to concentrate on the job. He reached up and took hold of her wrist, staying her hand. He was gazing at her intensely; almost imploringly. She sighed and lowered the towel. "I'm just glad you're okay, and…and I know why you did this for me."
"You do?"
She nodded. "Mmm…"
Harry leaned forward and kissed her, his lips still damp and warm from the towel. He reached around with his good arm and pulled her closer to him off the trunk. She dropped the towel and landed softly on top of him, taking care not to put pressure on his wounded one. He held her tight, and they kissed tenderly for a long time. Someone snorted loudly from Neville's bed and they stopped, looking into each other's eyes and smiling softly.
When they sat up again Angelina pushed the trunk away and retrieved the towel so she could finish cleaning his face. She got under his nose and eye, and he sat patiently letting her do it. Once she was done she Vanished the towel and took his face in both hands, pulling him over to her and kissing him deeply.
He pulled back; breathing slowly; his eyes burning into hers. "Are we still…together?" His voice was almost timid.
"Yes!" Angelina whispered.
"I know I scared you before. I won't act like that again, I promise."
"Harry…" Angelina frowned and turned to fully face him. "That wasn't you."
Harry paused, his eyes narrowing past her, into the dark. It seemed for a moment that he would remain staring at Seamus' bed, but then he sighed and nodded. "It was and it wasn't. Voldemort-" Angelina shuddered again. "Uh…You-Know-Who…was really angry about something, and…well I could feel it. He was making me say those things."
Angelina touched her fingers to her mouth. "That's awful…"
"It hasn't happened again," he offered lamely.
"But it's happened before?"
He hesitated. "Yes…"
"Harry you've got to tell someone. Dumbledore…"
"I have told him. He said he needed to think it over. He was being vague…but he said I had a really strong connection to Vol-You-Know-Who. He said I should keep my friends close and you even closer…" Harry was looking at her beseechingly again.
"He knows about us?" He nodded. "And he said that? That you should keep me closer?"
"Yes..."
Angelina smiled warmly at him. "Then you should take his advice."
Harry returned her smile. They got undressed and got into bed. He held her close, his arm throbbing faintly but not nearly as painful as before Hermione fixed it. Harry was fast asleep when Ron came up, yawning.
"Fred and George told us everything," he muttered to Angelina, who had been watching Harry thoughtfully. "I wish I'd been down there. Harry's arm wouldn't have been broken. I'd have made sure of that…"
He dozed off still muttering about what he would've done to Malfoy if he hadn't been left behind. Angelina sighed and watched Harry sleep some more. She was very glad that he hadn't been caught, that she had her playbook back, and that he was not angry with her anymore. His bare chest rose and fell, and he looked so innocent then. But Harry was a fighter, she could see that. Innocence was evaporating from him very quickly, if it hadn't already been all but gone as a result of the things that'd happened to him in the first place. Angelina knew, as she watched him breathe, that she was falling for him…she was falling…I think I'm falling in love with you…she thought. She would keep that to herself for now, but the notion filled her with a renewed sense of belonging. She belonged right here lying next to him, she was sure of it.
Leaning over to kiss him gently on the mouth, she disturbed him and he rolled over, draping his arm around her and pulling her close. He slept so heavily, and soon so did she.