Harry hurried along the halls, his brisk walk quickly turning into a light jog. He was smiling from ear to ear and knew he looked ridiculous. A lot of kids were staring at him; some pointing and whispering to each other; but he didn't really care. He had to get to the common room to tell Ron what had just happened. He broke into a full-fledged run by the time he'd climbed the stairs two at a time and reached his floor. He was turning a corner, his hair flopping on his head to the rhythm of his footfalls, when he came to a screeching halt just in front of the portrait of the fat lady.
Delores Umbridge was standing there, waiting for him.
Or perhaps not waiting…she had probably just come from the Gryffindor common room—she was writing something down on that annoying clipboard of hers, and didn't look up until she'd finished. When she did, she smiled at him with that same, appallingly sweet smile, her beady little eyes glinting, her eyebrows raised.
"My, Mister Potter—running in the halls, I see?"
Harry didn't answer. He merely stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. He was aware that his gaze on her was less than respectful or polite. He didn't give a damn. Silence was his friend when it concerned this woman, and if he was forced to speak, he knew to say as little as possible.
"Tut-tut; Mister Potter you should be aware by now that running in the halls is dangerous and therefore forbidden. Ten points from Gryffindor." She scratched something on her clipboard, and her iniquitous smile grew even wider, spreading across her toad-like face. Her voice was like acid on his eardrums. "I was just visiting your classmates. Bit of a sloppy bunch, you Gryffindors, aren't you?" She tittered at him. "I was looking for Angelina Johnson. Have you seen her? I'd like a word with her."
"No. I haven't." Harry lied, keeping his face blank.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
"I see." For a split second her gaze fell on his hand and he could've sworn they tinkled with some sort of sick pleasure at the damage she'd caused. "Well, that is very interesting, because I've just questioned Ron Weasley and he informed me that she was with you."
Harry shrugged, blinking at her impassively. "He must've been mistaken."
Delores bristled for a second, but recovered and stepped forward, towards Harry. He watched her advance on him and was almost ready to back up to keep the distance between them, but then she stopped a few paces from him. Harry could see the fat lady craning her neck to hear what would be said next. "If you do happen to see her before I can find her, please kindly inform her that as High Inquisitor I will be sitting in on the next few practices of each of the Quidditch teams-"
"Why?" Harry interrupted, unable to stop himself.
Again, Delores's features hardened for the tiniest moment before she smiled again. "Not that it's any of your concern, dear, but your team is under probation until I have seen that you are fit to remain-"
"Probation? But you said we were reinstated. You said we could play-!"
"Mister Potter, do not interrupt me again." Harry let the hot air of his disdain for her come out through his nostrils as he closed his mouth and glared at her. He could only dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand in an effort to stay his outbursts. Umbridge, meanwhile, never lost her frosty smile. "Now…as I was saying: please inform your captain that I will need a schedule of all practice drills for the next week, due before dinner tonight. I will sit in on as many as I like until I've gathered all that I need to judge properly whether or not you can play in Saturday's match."
She blinked at him expectantly and he forced himself to nod in obedience. He really wanted to ask how on earth she planned to attend all of their practices, the other teams' practices, and teach D.A.D.A. at the same time, but knew that she would probably take a thousand more points from Gryffindor before she explained herself to him. Or worse: give another week's detention.
"May I go now?"
"Ahem. 'May I go now…' what?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "May I go now, Professor Umbridge?"
That smile seemed never to cease, and ever to spread. Those eyes seemed to get tinier and tinier, but held so much ominous light in them that they looked like the windows to some fresh hell. "Yes, Mister Potter, you may go. And no running!" She delivered the last remark in a sing-song tone that grated his nerves but he marched past her and muttered the password without looking up.
"What's that you say?" the fat lady asked, unable to hide the amusement at what she'd just witnessed from her voice. Harry raised his head only to glare at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine. I was only jibing you a bit, don't be so touchy."
With a huff, she swung forward and he stepped through, virtually all traces of the eager mood he'd been in only minutes before now gone.
Ron was sitting at one of the tables in the center of the room, an expression as ill-tempered as Harry felt firmly set on his freckled face. He seemed to have abandoned their Transfiguration homework, and had settled himself into his chair: shoulders slouched, arms folded.
"Probation? What a load of dragon dung!" he spat irritably when Harry put his stuff on the table and sat across from him. "You know that puffy wench came in 'ere barking orders and questioning everybody about so-called 'good sportsmanship'?"
"She cornered me outside." Harry responded, pulling out his textbook and sighing. "She's going to sit in on our practices. It's so stupid."
"I mean, has she ever seen a Quidditch match?" Ron demanded, sitting forward in his seat. He was fuming. "You can't be a good sport when a Bludger's been lobbed at your head!"
"I don't think she cares about the rules of the game. She just wants to find any reason there is to keep us from playing. She was breathing down my neck out there." Harry replied darkly.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that, mate. She wanted to know where Angelina was. Probably to tell her the bad news, I expect. I kind of told her she was with you—she's got a way of making you tell the truth."
"It's okay." Harry smiled half-heartedly. "She doesn't have that affect on me. I told her I hadn't seen Angelina. She can go and find her on her own." Harry remembered Angelina and why he was in such a good mood ten seconds before he'd been put upon by the likes of Delores Umbridge. His smile grew wider and he smacked himself on the forehead, causing Ron to frown in puzzlement. "I just remembered!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"What're you on about?"
"You can't tell anybody. Not even Hermione yet. I tried to tell her last night and it didn't go very well."
"Tell her what?" Ron said this rather grumpily; he was still seething over Umbridge's visit, and was absentmindedly making a balled up piece of parchment float off the table surface with his wand.
Harry regarded him nervously for a minute, unsure if this was the best time. He decided however that there was no time like the present.
"I had my first—well, no, second kiss last night." He paused for affect before adding: "With Angelina Johnson." Harry waited for Ron to react to this news. At first his friend only snorted and continued to play with the floating parchment. Then he blinked and stared at Harry, the parchment falling back to the table, along with the bottom half of his jaw.
"What?" Harry grinned and nodded, opening his book and flipping though the pages until he found the page they were supposed to be studying. He pulled his wand out of his bag and settled himself in his seat; he was letting Ron mull this over for a few seconds before he continued. "Harry—speak." Ron whispered, leaning even further in his seat so that he was inches away from Harry.
"Well, last night…"
"Yeah…"
"When I sort of yelled at you all and went off on my own?"
"Right."
"Angelina followed me."
Harry continued, giving Ron the details about his conversation with the seventh year captain and how she'd taken him by surprise with a lengthy and very nice kiss. Ron hung on his every word, and despite himself he felt a slight air of maturity and coolness as he recounted the tale. He continued, after only a short pause in which Ron shook his head in awe, with the talk he and Angelina had earlier in the courtyard.
"She just said it, just like that?" Ron asked, screwing up his face. "Who just comes out and says 'I fancy you' like that?"
"I know; it was a bit shocking." Harry shrugged, smiling like a dolt. "But then again I'm sure she's had loads of boyfriends. It's probably nothing for her to tell boys how she feels."
"Bloody hell, I wish I could do that." Ron said, his eyes narrowing in thought. Harry frowned, wondering who he'd like to do that to, but decided not to ask just yet. "But I'd probably make an ass of myself…"
"No you wouldn't."
"So, you said it was your second kiss with her?" Ron changed the subject, much more interested in Harry's tale now. "When did the first one happen? And how come you haven't said anything till now?"
"It was last year, and I didn't tell because it wasn't a big deal then." Harry paused, a dark cloud passing his features. "Not with everything that happened…"
"Oh—right. Yeah." Ron looked apologetic, but Harry flicked the parchment into his face and the dark cloud passed. "Bugger off. Tell me what happened. Where was I?"
"Sulking over your row with Hermione, I suppose." Harry shrugged.
"I do not sulk Harry."
"Whatever. It was at the Yule Ball. I went off on my own to get away from your bickering. Remember?"
"Oh yeah…thought you'd gone up to the Owlery or something. Didn't see you when I turned in."
"I just walked. Filch and Mrs. Norris were too busy dancing in the Great Hall."
"I wish I'd been able to enjoy that…"
Harry had been. He smiled coolly and began to recount his adventure with Fred, George, and Angelina. As he spoke, and Ron made indignant noises every now and again, he realized that if he hadn't been worrying about surviving the Tournament he probably would've been all too eager to tell his best friend. But as it happened, Harry had gone to bed that night and had a dream about Voldemort…
At one point during his story Ron punched him hard in the arm. "You had fire whiskey and didn't tell me?"
"Ouch. Sorry—I forgot okay?"
"Well how was it? It got you goofy didn't it?" Ron's grin spread eagerly. "Bill told me it's way stronger than Muggle spirits. He said it only takes one shot-!"
Harry smiled slyly. "Would you just shut up and let me tell the story, you git?"
Ron clamped his mouth shut and nodded. "Sorry. Carry on, then."
Harry loosened his bowtie and threw his dress cloak over his shoulder.
He'd been wondering the halls aimlessly for about ten minutes, glad to be away from Hermione's yelling and Ron's stubbornly thick-headed, jealous behavior. He scoffed at himself as he remembered the horrid dancing he'd been forced to do, and at how quickly the Patil sisters had abandoned him and Ron.
"What a silly tradition," he muttered to himself, climbing the steps to the seventh floor for no apparent reason. He'd been shuffling along, deep in thought, when he heard voices ahead of him. They drifted toward him in sharp whispers, a few giggles here and there, but mostly there was a cutting "Shhh!" thrown in every few seconds. Harry slowed down and tiptoed to the corner, where he poked his head around cautiously. Fred, George, and Angelina where in sight, walking around in circles, giggling madly, and arguing. Harry didn't think these three things went together, but that was what they were doing, and he watched them for a moment, fascinated, before stepping around the corner fully.
"I thought you said there was a bloody broom cupboard up here?" Angelina hissed, a silly smile plastered across her relaxed face.
"There was!" the twins retorted in unison. They two were smiling like idiots, and Harry had to wonder what they were up to. "We found it the year before last, didn't we Fred?" George whispered loudly.
"Yeah. Filch was chasing us-we found it right here!"
"Right where?" Angelina squinted at a rather ugly tapestry of a wizard and three big trolls. She stared at it for a moment and giggled absurdly.
"Not there, there!" Fred took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face the opposite wall. It was just a wall, no broom cupboard in sight.
Harry still hadn't been noticed. He spoke. "What d'you want with a broom cupboard, any way?" They all jumped at his voice, and the twins collapsed into a giggle fit two seconds later. Angelina smiled big and opened her arms to him, walking rather haltingly towards where he stood. He stared at her, and finally realized why they were all acting so silly—they were sloshed. "You guys are so lucky Filch and Mrs. Norris are having such a good time downstairs," he said, having to catch Angelina as she stumbled into him. "If he caught you like this…"
"Shhh, Harry. You'll give us bad luck talking like that." Angelina put a finger to his lips and giggled again. "B'sides, we're supposed to be in hiding, if these two knobs can find the spot where they left their broom cupboard."
"Sod off, Johnson!" the twins sang. Fred pulled a bottle from his pocket that shimmered with golden liquid contents and took a swig. Harry watched the two brothers help each other up and walk towards he and Angelina, suppressing a laugh at their expense. Angelina was getting comfortable; he hoisted her upright, having to wrap both arms around her narrow waist to support her. She seemed to be totally opposed to standing on her own.
"They are too stupid to find it, you see Harry?" Angelina shook her head at them as they sang 'Sod off Johnson' to themselves, taking care to over-emphasize the last syllable of her name.
"Maybe this is the wrong floor?" Harry suggested, eyeing the bottle of what he was sure was fire whiskey in Fred's hand. He was a bit anxious to get them all, not to mention that bottle, out of sight before they were in big trouble. "Did you try a floor down?"
"No, no, lad, this hideous thing we remember." George said sloppily, gesturing to the tapestry.
Harry wondered why they just didn't find an empty classroom instead, but didn't say anything. He really wanted to leave them to find the bloody thing themselves, but Angelina was quite comfy; her arms were around his neck and she was leaning against him casually. He had never really been that close to her before, and he mentally registered the smoothness of her warm skin against his hands. The gown she wore had an exposed back, and as he was supporting some of her weight (this was difficult; she was taller than him, but he didn't complain), his hands found skin quite easily.
"Actually, it's rather amusing just watching them try and find it," she whispered to him. He looked at her. Her eyes were glazed slightly, but she seemed to be a tad more sober than them. "I don't think they've ever set foot on this floor, but if it serves to entertain us—let them look I say."
"Yeah, but what if we get caught?"
She shrugged. "I don't think we will. I can still hear the music from down there."
Harry listened. Indeed, the Weird Sisters were still rocking the night away, and he smiled to himself. Relaxing a little, he turned with Angelina to watch Fred and George pace awkwardly back and forth.
"We can't just sit out here in the open," Fred mused. "We need a place to finish this baby off." He beamed as he held up the bottle of whiskey. "And you're helping us, Potter. No choice now, lad."
Harry blanched at the sight of it, gleaming naughtily in the candlelight of the hallway. "No way."
"Oh yes." George goaded. "All we need is a place to cop a squat, and then we're getting you pissin' drunk, mate."
"Well, can't we go off grounds or something? Honestly, let's not stand here forever." Harry conceded, his paranoia about Filch rising up again.
"Rubbish, we can't go outside. Angelina's gown will be ruined in the snow."
Angelina made an obscene hand gesture and shook her head. "Where d'you suggest, then?"
"I told ya, we just need to find somewhere up here, and we can-"
"Aha!" Fred piped up all of a sudden. "I found it!"
They all stared at him in disbelief, but sure enough there was a door there. George did a double-take, his eyebrows raised in puzzlement, but Fred chuckled, evidently quite pleased with himself. Angelina stood up straight and walked over to join the boys with Harry following closely. He felt nervous, and didn't think it was such a good idea for the four of them to try and squeeze into a broom cupboard—especially since three of them were smashed. He looked around them warily, ready for Filch or McGonagall or even Dumbledore to pop out at any moment and expel them all.
"Squeeze in, squeeze in," Fred pushed him into the open doorway. It was dark in there, and Harry pulled out his wand for light. "There's a good lad, come on."
"Lumos," Harry muttered. A second later cool light emanated from his wand tip and he squinted up at all of them as Fred joined them and closed the door behind him. Harry expected them all to have to push against each other, fighting for room…something he kind of secretly looked forward to though, even if he did happen to accidentally brush up against Angelina…but to his surprise there was way more room in there than he'd thought. He backed up, holding his wand aloft as he looked around them, and a second later he bumped into something hard. It was round and only came up to his butt. He turned around and shined the wand tip over it—it was a table.
"Hey, look at this."
"Lumos," all three sixth-years illuminated their wands and held them up as they turned to look at the table. "What the-?" Fred muttered, baffled. Not only was there room for a table in this rather large broom cupboard, but there were also exactly four chairs sitting around it. In the center of the table sat four small glasses, perfectly sized for single shots of fire whiskey. Harry gaped at this, quite taken aback. He looked at the twins, who shrugged and smiled. "Maybe Filch uses it for getting pissed with his mates."
"Filch doesn't have any mates, idiot," Angelina rolled her eyes. "Are there candles?"
Harry could tell that this was merely an offhand comment, because she didn't attempt to look for any. But Fred leaned forward suddenly and seized four candlesticks from a small shelf that Harry hadn't noticed before. They all stared as Fred lit the candles with his wand. He muttered a charm to make them levitate above the table and then sighed, satisfied with himself thoroughly.
"After you, m'lady." George pulled a chair out for Angelina. She curtsied and sat down. He pushed Harry into the seat next to hers and he and his brother sat down across from them.
They let their wands go out and Harry marveled at the perfect-ness of it all. He was slightly worried about someone discovering them in there, but somehow knew that no one would.
"Okay, first shot's yours, mate." Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Fred's rather excited voice. He poured a shot of fire whiskey from the bottle he had into one of the little cups and held it out to Harry. "Don't be afraid of her."
Harry made a face, his eyes flickering towards Angelina for a spilt second. She was smiling at him, her elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands. Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight.
"Um…where did you get this?" he asked, taking the shot glass with hesitation.
Fred shrugged indifferently. "Nicked it from Filch's office, of course."
"I dunno about this…"
"Oh come on, Potter, don't be a girl." George urged.
"Hey!"
"What?" George lifted his hands innocently as if he'd done no wrong. "You're not a girl, you're Angelina."
"Maybe we shouldn't make him drink it. He's only a fourth year. It might kill him or something," Angelina commented, frowning appraisingly at Harry.
"Hey…" It was his turn to be indignant. Angelina smiled. "I may only be a fourth year, but I am a Triwizard champion."
"Oh-ho! What d'you say to that, Johnson?" Fred needled her, enjoying this.
Angelina looked at Harry funny for a second, and then her smirk grew. "Pour me a shot."
The twins drummed their fists on the table top eagerly. Harry wanted to tell them to be quiet or they'd be hung for sure, but he was rather amused by it. Fred poured a shot for Angelina. She reached over for it, her hand brushing his slightly, and lifted it in toast. "On three, Potter."
"Go, Potter!" the twins sang.
"Okay." He swallowed, putting on a poker face for her.
Their eyes met and locked, and they lifted their glasses to their lips.
"One," she whispered.
"Two," he countered.
"Three!" the twins finished. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and drank. The liquid slid down his throat, burning a path through it to his chest and into his stomach. It hurt but it felt damned good too, and he could feel that even the saliva in his mouth seemed to be on fire.
"Ohhgrrhhh!" Harry shook his head to and fro several times, coughing and sucking in his breath as the whiskey did its work. Opening his eyes, he found the three of them falling over with laughter at his expense, and he lifted his arms in triumph. "How was that, then?"
"Brilliant, mate!" Fred and George clapped for him, their backs straight and noses in the air as if they were applauding for royalty.
"That was pretty good, Potter." Angelina reached over and ruffled his hair, rather like a grownup would a kid, and it made him feel funny. Not mad exactly…just…he reached over and took the bottle from Fred. He had something to prove.
"Only teachers call me Potter," he told her, pouring whiskey in all four glasses. "Usually the tetchy ones."
Angelina's gaze stayed on him as he poured, and when he handed her a glass she took it without saying anything. Fred and George were quiet too, though they smiled at what was happening. No doubt they were proud that they'd corrupted Harry, which had been a secret goal of theirs forever. Their biggest mission was to conquer Hermione Granger, of course, but they still had a long way to go with that one.
"On three…"
One—two—three. They all took their shots. Harry experienced the uncomfortable burning sensation as it traveled through his body again, but this time held his own. He blew out his burning excitement and felt the lightheadedness that came along with one's second shot of fire whiskey almost immediately. He giggled without warning and clamped his hand over his mouth, suppressing the fit of laughter he was experiencing for no apparent reason at all.
"Ha ha, Harry's got it!" Fred pointed at him.
"Got what?" Harry giggled again.
"We'll tell you when you're older, mate. Drink up!"
They did two—three—four more shots a piece and soon were all so encumbered with unprovoked laughter that Harry had tears in his eyes. He reached over and flicked a lock of Angelina's shining black hair into her eyes and she swiped his glasses from his face. The twins were singing some old pub song quietly as Harry reached over to retrieve his glasses. Angelina held them above her head and wouldn't let him near them from his sitting position. Finally, he got up from his chair and grabbed them from her, lost his footing and sloppily fell over, knocking her out of her chair. They fell to the floor in a heap.
The twins stopped singing long enough to laugh at them, but soon resumed their song.
"Old Henry, old Henry, he poured us some rum!
Like he does every evening when our chores are done!
The trolls scratch their arses, the dragons all cry!"
Fred stopped his brother. "Not dragons, you idiot! There're no bloody dragons in the song!"
Whilst the twins argued amongst themselves as to the lyrics of the old song, Angelina and Harry sat on the floor together, smiling up at them.
"What d'you reckon it is?" Angelina turned to him.
Harry shrugged. "I can't imagine dragons crying. It sounds to me like they're making it up as they go along…"
They regarded each other silently for a moment and then Angelina reached up and touched his forehead. Harry stiffened at this, but waited while she moved her fingers along his skin. He knew what she was feeling for, and when she found it he watched her bite her lip and smile. He smiled back. "Sorry," she said, her fingers lingering for just a bit before she pulled them away. "I've sort of always wanted to touch it."
"You're not the first…" He wondered if that sounded a bit smug. Intoxicated as he was, he could not tell at all. She didn't seem to notice, however, and she remained sitting there staring at him as if he were suddenly real to her.
"That must be bloody annoying."
"Sometimes." He watched her, and then added: "But not with you. I don't mind if you touch my scar."
He was surprised at himself—very surprised. He didn't recall ever seeing Angelina the way he was seeing her now. The candlelight illuminated her face quite beautifully. Harry had had so much trouble with girls over the past few weeks; he was floundering in the murky waters of his crush on Cho Chang, and finding dates for himself and Ron for the Yule Ball was a nightmare. This seemed different somehow. Of course, it could've just been the fire whiskey, but he felt very relaxed around her. She was extremely easy to talk to, and beyond his general confusion over what he actually felt when he looked at her, Harry was slowly realizing that he had never really looked at her before now.
"You know, I think Cho Chang fancies you," she said, out of the blue.
Harry frowned. "How can you tell?"
"She kept her eyes on you quite a bit tonight." Harry didn't believe her. She smirked and ruffled his hair again—she liked doing that to people, he noticed. "Trust me, girls know these things."
"She's with Cedric," Harry said with a little too much finality. He didn't really feel that hopeless about it, but at the moment he didn't wish to be talking about his failure with Cho. "I don't think she likes me that way."
"You'd be surprised, Harry…"
"Oi, get it right, you knob!" Fred hissed at George. "No dragons!"
"But you can't tell me what it is instead, can you, troll breath?" George retorted. A pause. They resumed their singing.
Angelina chuckled at them. She shivered suddenly and reached up to hug herself. "Cold down here on this floor." She frowned at their surroundings, her eyes leaving his face to study the floor. "And dusty…I'll bet my dress is ruined."
"You want to get up?"
"Nah." She looked up and shrugged. Harry watched her shiver again, and then realized that he should do something about that. He reached over and retrieved his dress cloak from where he'd draped it over the back of his chair. Angelina smiled gratefully as he wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thanks."
"No problem."
"You're a little gentleman." It irked him somewhat to hear her use the word 'little' concerning him, as it had when she called him 'only a fourth-year.' Again, he felt he had something to prove to her, though he didn't know what or how he would. Or why, for that matter. "You know..." she leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a mischievous whisper. "Don't tell Fred and George—I told them odds were for Cedric—but I think you could really win this thing, Harry."
"I doubt it. I haven't even figured out the second task yet," he said honestly.
"You will."
"It's in two days."
"Don't worry."
Harry didn't say anything. He was looking around at the space they were in. Through the haze of his drunkenness, he pondered how convenient it had been for them: the table with four chairs, the candles, and the shot glasses…It seemed quite unlikely that Filch used this room for anything, let alone knew of its existence. He wondered how long it had been here. Who used it? And how come it took them so long to notice it was there? Fred and George had fallen asleep on each other's shoulders, the song forgotten and the whiskey bottle overturned on the table. The tiny amount of drink left had spilled out and made a funny shape on the surface.
"They're done in. We'd better go." Harry looked back at Angelina, prepared to help her up so they could wake the twins and leave.
"Okay…" she stared at him for a long moment, an odd look on her face, and then leaned over and pecked him on the mouth. The sensation of her soft skin pressing on his and then gently peeling away caused a shudder to go through him and he grew suddenly very hot. He knew he was blushing; she grinned and stood up. "You're cute."
That was it. Harry sat there taken aback for only a second, and then they were waking the twins and preparing to leave. Angelina muttered an incantation, and the bottle of whiskey disappeared.
They each took a twin, supporting their weight, as they cautiously left the small room and made their way back to the Tower. They saw no teachers at first, but plenty of students returning from the Great Hall. Most of the girls carried their shoes in their hands, the boys their cloaks over their shoulders. Some looked at them curiously, to which Harry muttered something about too much cake. "Stomach aches…." No one really bought it, but no one really cared either. Thankfully, they did not see Malfoy or Filch anywhere.
They did spot Moody from a distance, but he only raised a knowing eyebrow at them and limped off in another direction.
When they made it to the common room, the twins had somewhat recovered from their sluggishness and thanked Harry for helping them. "Put a little hair on your chest, eh Potter?" Fred winked at him as he made his way towards the boy's dorms.
Harry blinked lazily and grinned. "You could say that. Thanks."
"No worries, mate. We won't tell. Granger would have our hides for it."
Harry shuddered as he imagined the look on Hermione's face if she ever found out what he'd just done, and decided never to tell her. Or at least not for a long time. The twins waved goodnight and went up to bed. Harry turned to Angelina, who was taking off his cape and handing it to him. He accepted it, throwing it over his shoulder again and preparing to say goodnight. Without warning, Angelina pecked him on the cheek.
"Goodnight, Harry."
Harry touched his fingers to his skin where she'd kissed him and nodded. "Yeah—goodnight." Angelina turned and began to climb the stairs to the girls' dorms. Harry piped up suddenly, unable to suppress his next statement. "Hey, Angelina?" She turned. "Just you looked, um…well you looked really nice tonight. Your gown isn't ruined."
"Thanks."
And with a smile she disappeared upstairs. Harry stared after her for a while, and when he finally snapped out of it Hermione was making her way through the portrait hole, looking rather enchanted. "Lovely night, wasn't it?" she asked breezily, sweeping past him in the direction Angelina had just gone.
"Yeah…"
He guessed that even fighting with Ron could not dampen her spirits and good for her. Harry grinned, said good night, and went to bed.