"Great…" Ron muttered, kicking at the snow as he, Hermione, and Harry trudged up the path away from the pitch after the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match. "We've got to play Slytherin for the Cup."
"So?" Harry responded, wiping his nose. "We can beat them."
He felt sorry for Cho; her team had played a decent game, but in the end she got viciously side-swiped by Malfoy and lost her advantage for the Snitch. He realized that he had said "we" as in "me and the rest of the team" but neither Hermione nor Ron noticed as they stomped the snow from the bottoms of their boots before entering the castle.
As they elbowed their way through crowds of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, most still twirling their noise-makers and whooping and yelling with lingering excitement from the match, they passed a few third-years sneakily scribbling EAT POOP over the words to Umbridge's latest decree with bright red ink. He smiled to himself as they made it to the marble staircase and began their ascent.
Umbridge had become a monster after the incident with the fireworks. She had posted up two more decrees, one right after the other. The first one had been, as McGonagall had predicted, a license for her to search any part of the school she wished for disciplinary or "emergency" reasons. She tore through Harry's dorm first, but did not find much. She didn't get her chubby hands on his Invisibility Cloak or his Marauder's Map because he had the good sense to keep them both with him in his bag that day, ready for her to spring the decree on them at any moment. Ron had been most upset—she smushed his entire year's supply of chocolate frogs in her crazed determination to find anything incriminating.
Harry at first had no idea how the twins managed to hide all of their stuff. He imagined they had loads of it what with all the merchandise they'd been selling, but Fred had explained that they'd always sell out everything in their stock and would have to make more. The fireworks he had set off that night was everything they had, so there was really nothing left to find except their book, which they kept with them at all times to make notes on ideas. Of course, a number of students had wound up having to flush their Weasley's Wizard Wheazies items or Vanish them in their haste to avoid expulsion. A lot of upset students staged a small revolt against the twins, demanding their money back, but the boys assured them they'd get their money's worth soon enough. They were charming, those two.
Hagrid had met Delores Umbridge, all right. And as he told the trio when they'd gone to visit him for the first time after he'd gotten back: "She's a right nasty piece o'work!"
Umbridge had interrogated Hagrid as he was the only witness to the events of the night, and he had let slip, in true Hagrid fashion, that he thought he heard spells being thrown back and forth when he'd been walking in the forest.
" 'Why were you in the forest at that hour?' she asks me, and o'course I told her ter check on…some things…but she kept on with the questions. 'Where were the spells being thrown?' and I tried o'think of summit to tell'er but she kept askin' so I says 'the Quidditch pitch' and she didn't even let me say 'but I could've been mistaken…' she just turned and knocked open my bloody cabin door and marched herself right down to the pitch!"
According to Hagrid, Umbridge had inspected the entire pitch with help from Filch and Snape, including the locker rooms, and probably deduced that they had indeed been fighting there. She wasn't stupid—Harry was sure she also figured out that the fireworks were a distraction. Another decree went up in a flash and Hagrid was placed on probation.
"I hadn't even been back for an hour! She just shouted 'you're on probation, sir, for allowing those hooligans to escape!' " They could not suppress a laugh at Hagrid's high-pitched impression of Umbridge's snotty voice.
The decree stated plainly that any students caught dueling would not only be expelled, but permanently banned from setting foot on Hogwarts grounds ever again.
That was all expected, though. Granted, having Hagrid being put on probation was a nasty backlash—and they all three did their best to urge Hagrid not to do anything to step on Umbridge's toes. He had told them about his journey to the mountains with Olympe Maxime to curry favor with the giants. They were on pins and needles during most of their Care of Magical Creatures classes after that, but actually in Harry's opinion they hadn't gone that badly. They learned about Thestrals, the invisible beasts that pulled the Hogwarts carriages. Only Harry, Neville, Luna, and a few others could see them, of course. Aside from having to put up with Umbridge's every effort to make Hagrid out to be a big dumb brute, Harry rather enjoyed learning about them.
It was now a week until Christmas break.
Underneath his Christmas cheer, Harry was feeling a little sad. This had to do with two things, one being that Sirius would spend Christmas alone. Ron had invited him to join his family at the Burrow for the holidays, and Harry had excitedly accepted, but in his heart of hearts he knew that Mrs. Weasley would be uncomfortable having his godfather in her house and that meant poor Sirius would be left to pull a lonely cracker with Kreacher at Grimmauld Place. He wanted very much to write Sirius a letter explaining things, but Umbridge had her hands in everything, and he decided against that risky course of action. He supposed he could persuade Mrs. Weasley to take him to go and visit Sirius on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, just so his godfather wouldn't feel so cut off from everybody.
"I'm sure Lupin will be there," Hermione offered him. She was going skiing with her parents. "He won't be totally alone."
Harry told himself that there was no shame in wanting to be warm and comfortable and surrounded by the cheerful Weasley family rather than in the dark, dusty confines of the Black house. But he did swear silently that he would make every effort to visit Sirius and spend the whole day with him, and even get him something when they went shopping in Diagon Alley.
The other thing that took Harry a little off his holiday cheer: he was dreading being away from Angelina for the whole break. She would be with her parents in Cannes for Christmas. She had been practicing her French for the last few weeks as the snow fell, and it was nice because it distracted her from nagging him about details of the duel.
Harry decided early on to come up with ways to savor their time together before everyone would be leaving for Christmas. He didn't rightly know what had caused it, but suddenly he found himself feeling…all fussed up; restless; lustful, even. More and more as the days progressed and he knew that soon they'd spend the whole break apart his thoughts were aimed at one thing when he was around her. He watched her a lot, more than he had before…her eyes…her mouth…her body's curves and slopes and glowing brown skin…she posed for him willingly under his intense gaze sometimes, though discretely so that no one caught on.
Harry was experiencing some kind of fiery rise in boldness from dueling with Malfoy. This, coupled with the invigoration he felt in knowing that despite Umbridge's best efforts she had not managed yet to do away with him, at least for the time being, served as kindling for the smoldering libido within him through the cold December days. Indeed it seemed a million miles away all of a sudden, that time when he could no sooner talk to a girl than kiss her.
Where before he might feel embarrassed for ogling her so much, recently Harry simply could not help undressing her with his eyes any chance he got, and it helped that Angelina no longer felt unsure about the future of their relationship. She did away with whatever ultimatum she'd given him in the Room of Requirement; she no longer needed to 'think about things'. They were on the same page again-had they ever really broken up? It just didn't seem like it now; they had become so close. Harry had been hesitant and nervous sexually before all of that Malfoy nonsense, but fighting for her—punching and kicking and firing spells from his wand and running and almost getting caught—it made him feel…it was inexplicable. That unexpected show of vulnerability in his bed that time had been forced down and locked away—Harry wanted no more of it. Of course, he was still inexperienced, but where he only hesitated before, now he dove into whatever new exploration they touched on while alone together. It was exciting; a quiet storm was brewing inside him—inside them both. Harry had not been touched so intimately and so much ever before, and when he got over his initial desire to pull away from the foreign invasion of his body's personal space, he found it very easy to allow himself to be comfortable with it, and enjoy it. They did things…things that Harry had only vaguely thought about when he was alone and girlfriendless in the past, or not at all.
Things like making out for hours on end during their free periods, touching each other in ways they hadn't before, and giving each other 'injuries of passion', as Dumbledore put it, in places other than their necks. Harry began to claim his favorite parts of her, and visa versa. He really liked her bum…it was kind of funny to her but something about squeezing that soft mound of flesh excited him a great deal. They played games—one in particular was simultaneously the most exciting yet the most frustrating. It was kind of unspoken and they took turns unconsciously. Harry started it right after the duel, still feeling the edge from all the hostility he held for Malfoy one evening when they were fooling around. It wasn't that he didn't want her to see…or touch…but he kind of enjoyed refusing her—he grew to take pleasure in the cranberry flush of her chocolate skin that sprouted up when she was frustrated with desire. After a few times she began to refuse him, and he caught on that she enjoyed doing so as much as he did. It drove him into a state of barely contained, borderline-licentiousness, but that was the idea.
That first time, though, he didn't understand what he was doing or what he wanted until he saw her reaction to him when he broke off their deep, sensual kisses and muttered: "Wait…"
Angelina's eyes flickered at him from beneath her heavy lids and she shook her head slowly. "What's wrong?" She was gripping his sweater with both hands, her slender fingers digging into his chest. He was on top of her on a bed of cushions in the Room of Requirement. A meeting had ended less than twenty minutes earlier and they had both stayed behind to 'tidy up', falling into each other's arms as soon as the last pair of feet shuffled through the door. Harry was nursing an erection that strained and pushed against the opening of his school slacks, rubbing against the bare silky skin of her thigh. He had no reason to stop her; he wanted to keep going very badly, but he whispered 'wait' anyhow.
Harry breathed on her, and she bit her lip, squirming slightly from the feel of the stiff phallic shape pressing against her. "Slow down…"
Angelina nodded, understanding, and he leaned in to kiss her again. She claimed his mouth with hers heatedly, a whimper of desire suppressed by his tongue as he slid it inside. He reached under her short school skirt and squeezed her bottom; his favorite place; as she opened her legs wider and the heat from between them caressed his member through his pants. Harry lost himself in the motions—opening his mouth and sucking on her chin and neck and earlobe (she taught him that one), and moving gradually down to the bit of chest exposed by the opening in her shirt. When she let go of his sweater with one hand and reached down in the tight space between them to stroke her fingers lightly against his throbbing member, he exhaled and pulled back again.
"Hm-mm…" he shook his head at her, reaching town and pulling her fingers away. He was in agony—he wanted her to touch him so…god so badly…but he pulled her hand away despite his cock screaming for it to stay. "Don't."
"…too fast?" she breathed; her eyes were patient and considerate but her voice was coated in frustration of a certain kind. It made Harry's heart thump painfully. That blood pumped down into his groin something fierce as he replaced her roaming hand on his chest and gave her a fleeting peck on the mouth, not answering her question right away. "Harry, don't tease me…" she said, her voice deepening sexily, and it drove a spike of quivering excitement all through him when he heard that tone while simultaneously realizing that this was in fact what he was doing. He was teasing her, and he liked it.
In the present; as he lagged behind Hermione and Ron while they tried to trick each other into telling what they planned to buy the other for Christmas on their way up to their floor; Harry smiled lazily to himself at the memory of it. When things got hot and heavy like that, one of them usually put an end to it before they reached the point of no return. That night it had been him. Sex…actual intercourse…he didn't think he was ready. He loved being intimate with Angelina, but…he didn't know. The time hadn't come yet, was all he could think to tell himself. They both seemed content with the way things were for the time being anyway, so he saw no reason to change it…yet. Heavy petting was pretty damned nice in its own right.
Besides that bit of naughtiness, however, there was a very deep affection developing between them. Harry had decided to trust her with himself; trust that she liked him—hell, maybe even cared for him. Hermione had made an interesting point one day in the library when Harry was comparing she and Ron with he and Angelina, who were getting closer every day.
"Well, Ron and I have just gotten started, but then again we haven't been through what you and Angelina did, have we?" She sucked on her quill thoughtfully.
"What d'you mean?" he had asked her, poking his head above his History of Magic textbook.
"Just that you and Angelina went through something pretty major at the start of your relationship. You're just kids, aren't you? Granted, she is older than you, but it doesn't look as if that matters much to either of you…"
"Well I'm very aware of it, if that's what you mean," he explained. "But, no I guess it doesn't bother me that much."
"I think—this is just me taking a guess purely as an outside observer, mind you—but I think that when you went off with your fists raised at Malfoy for what he'd done, it made Angelina realize that you're not just some stupid kid who only wanted to brag to his friends that he dated an older girl."
Harry had made a face at her then, thinking that she was way off. "How d'you figure that? I think she fancied my reaction was rather immature."
"Perhaps at first—I know I did at first—but, no. Once she had time to think about it, I'll bet she realized that you really care about her Harry. Maybe neither of you realize why exactly, yet, though."
"Why…?"
Hermione hesitated, and seemed to struggle with herself a bit. He could only have guessed that what she told him next would be something she believed was true, but that he perhaps would not warm up to right away, if at all. "Well, Harry…" she sighed. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but Angelina is only your first girlfriend. And you've rather…I don't know…latched onto her pretty deeply."
"What in bloody hell do you mean I've latched on-?"
She could see him becoming agitated and shushed him apologetically, but continued to express her opinion.
"I mean think about it, Harry! You've been—well, sorry, but you've been abused your whole life! Down right abused! Both physically and mentally! You've had no love or affection from those people who've raised you for fifteen years, and even though you know Ron and I care for you, it's just not enough…"
He could only stare at her, her words making his skin feel all prickly as if his whole body was a limb that had fallen asleep.
"I can only imagine what it must be for you to have someone like Angelina—an older girl you probably never dreamed would think of you in such a way in a million years—suddenly paying you the kind of attention you've always longed for…well having Malfoy threaten that nearly drove you over the edge, didn't it? You fought for what you felt rightfully belonged to you after so long of going without it. And you did fight, Harry, tooth and nail, and you won and now you are plunging in. Probably expecting it to slip away from you any…moment…"
When she had finished, her voice sort of died out as if the last of her resolve waned when she got a look at his face. She looked afraid he would yell at her.
He merely made a small noise that sounded like "Okay…" and sat staring at his textbook for several minutes, taking it all in.
"Harry…?" she'd whispered timidly after a while. He looked up at her. "Are you mad I said all that?"
He shook his head. "No…" After a beat he added: "You're not that far off, actually..."
She raised her eyebrows, surprised to hear that. "Oh…" They continued studying in silence.
Harry didn't think about it too much. In fact, it was kind of hard to rap his brain around, especially with it being overrun with thoughts of how badly he wanted to see Angelina naked. He never brought this up, of course. It was just something that was there, hovering like the giant fireworks display of Umbridge over the grounds of his subconscious. It had only been a few weeks. But, yes Hermione may have been partially right. Intimacy, Harry found, was his new favorite thing. Better than flying. Better than knowing that Malfoy was seething with jealousy somewhere as he watched Harry kiss Angelina and hold her hand.
Hands.
Angelina had claimed her favorite part of him to be his hands.
"You have very nice hands, Harry…" she had told him only the night before. They were in the common room on the couch, warming themselves by the fire. It was very late; past two in the morning, and it was just the two of them. She had been feeling sick all day and Harry hadn't seen her much until that evening. They had been struggling to fall asleep, but every time one of them managed to dose the other would move and then their hands roamed wantonly.
Angelina had taken hold of his hand and began examining it. It was the one with the scar from Umbridge's enchanted quill, and she ran her silky touch over the words carved into his skin.
"That looks pretty ugly to me," he replied darkly.
"The scar gives it character in my opinion but that's not what I'm talking about."
"What are you talking about?" He watched her splay his fingers apart, turning his hand around in hers, measuring them against each other.
"The way you hold your wand…the way you roll up your sleeves or run your fingers through you hair…it's very sexy."
"I'm not the only guy who holds a wand or rolls up his sleeves." He still had not managed to get used to her complimenting him, especially on his physical attributes. If he had a choice he would have had her speak to him about his lips since he used them so much…
"Hmmm, they're strong but with delicate slender fingers. You just don't understand. A girl likes a nice pair of hands on a boy."
Harry did not understand at all at first. He thought she was being rather odd about it. He had never once heard Ginny or Hermione or any other girl he listened to speak of how cute a boy's hands were. He often heard of hair (his was hopeless) or eyes (not bad in that department, he admitted) or body shape (he really wanted to be taller…), or some other obvious thing, but not…hands? He decided to stop thinking about it and kissed her softly.
They were still in their school things, so the warmth of the fire was insulated in the thick fabric of his jumper and her crisp white shirt. She loosened his tie with one hand, the other still holding his scarred hand. He sank his tongue deep into her mouth and pulled her closer to him; their legs entwined. She made noises in his ear—deep, throaty noises that he could not get enough of. He reached up with the hand she held and clasped her breast, applying gentle pressure so that she made another noise. He grinned against her neck, flicking his tongue out quickly and wetting the skin there.
"Harry?" Angelina breathed, still holding the hand that was on her breast.
"Yes…" came his hoarse reply as he concentrated on teasing the hard nipple poking through the fabric of her shirt with his thumb. He had discovered that making slow, deliberate circles drove her to breathless excitement. She tightened her grip on his hand as he did this.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?"
He shook his head slowly, feeling his throat tighten. "No…" He glanced up to discover that she had the same look in her eyes as when she had revealed her breasts to him that one time. He figured she would do the same now, and he was all for it. But she bit her lip and swallowed; the glint in her eyes much different from that occasion's naughty mischief—it was outright fiery desire tonight. As on other, now increasingly frequent occasions, little Harry woke up and began to drain all the blood from big Harry's pumping heart to aid its rise to attention.
"You trust me?" Angelina kissed him tenderly.
"Yes…" Another kiss. His hand was being guided away from her breast and he felt a little disappointed.
"Don't be afraid."
"I'm not." Still lower. She held it at the spot where her navel hid under the top rim of her skirt.
"Hold me closer." Harry obeyed, circling his free arm around her and pulling her close. She breathed on him. The fire crackled at his back. His cock throbbed painfully…hotly…he stared at her lips. He could feel her rubbing against him down there. His hand was guided still lower. What was it about hands….? And…fingers…?
She had slipped his hand under her skirt. Harry immediately looked into her eyes, which were positively burning. The firelight flickered in them. Her thighs trembled slightly. It was very…very…warm down there between her legs. His fingertips grazed the soft cotton of her underwear. She was wet. His other hand gripped her at the slope of her lower back, and he exhaled.
"Just relax. Okay?"
"Okay," he almost whispered.
She kissed him again, and at the same time that her tongue slid into his mouth, she slid two of his fingers inside…Merlin. They were submerged into a hot, throbbing cocoon that was slick with her fluids and she moaned for him as she guided him slowly. At her urging, his fingers slid in and out of the warm, damp wonderland while his thumb was pressed against the swollen bulb just above it. She instructed him with her own thumb on top of his to replicate the deliberate circles he'd administered to her nipple earlier. He did as she instructed, sliding in and out while stimulating her clit dutifully. Angelina moaned again and quivered, the muscles in her abdomen contracting with pleasure.
Harry was beside himself with the thrill of it all as he moved his fingers just as she wanted him to. He did not miss a beat-quickening the pace when she wanted, slowing down when she wanted, and feeling his own arousal reaching a painful zenith that filled his head with a thick, lustful cloud. Angelina's other arm was around his back; she dug her nails into his shirt and moaned louder. Harry felt very powerful, very bold, very much older than fifteen. He felt himself becoming at ease with the rhythm and soon did not need her to guide him. She kissed him and squeezed him close and moaned and pumped and writhed against him. His fingers slipped in and out of her and teased and massaged her clit with more and more confidence the more noise she made.
"H-harder, Harry…" she whimpered. He was momentarily taken out of his concentration when she spoke, but there was no time to hesitate now; she had her eyes shut tight and her thighs were closing around his forearm. He licked his lips and held her tight, moving with an added little push of force, though careful he wouldn't hurt her. So this is what she'd been on about when she was saying how nice my hands were!
Her gasps grew more strained; her thighs squeezing tighter and tighter…she clawed at him and shook her head like a wild thing caught in a trap and Harry's mouth hung open as he watched her. He did not want to change a stroke or deviate from his rhythm in any way, lest he impede this fascinating behavior.
Very suddenly she moaned loudly and her thighs squeezed the circulation out of his arm and then his whole hand was wet. Gradually all of her holds on him loosened. Her thighs let up on his aching arm and her nails released their clutching of his back. Harry slid his hand from under her skirt and before he could examine it properly she had pulled his wand out of his pocket and Scourgified the slightly glistening substance away.
Today the memory of that had crept up on him several times, and he would look down at his hands and feel very oddly pleased with himself. He could only think to himself that if she ever wanted him to do that again, he would gladly oblige her.
They reached the common room, where Angelina had stayed behind from the game, saying she wanted to study some more French for her trip. But he knew that she had other things in mind, as he'd caught her doing it several times over the last few weeks since he had brought the thing back to her. Now, sure enough, she was reading through it intently again when they emerged.
"How was the match?" she asked, not looking up from the playbook.
"Fine. You feel better?"
"Got something for my cough from Pomfrey a little while ago. It seems fine, now. Fever's gone, too…"
"Angelina, why are you looking at that again?" Harry asked in exasperation as he bounced down next to her on the couch, removing his gloves. She frowned and turned a page.
"It's funny, Harry. I mean…can you imagine how embarrassed that git Malfoy is feeling right now, knowing we've all seen that stuff?" Ron asked, smiling as he shrugged out of his coat and helped Hermione out of hers.
"I can…" Harry answered, still eyeing Angelina. "But I don't fancy looking at that stuff again. It just makes me mad."
"I know it does," she spoke, turning another page. "But actually I was looking at what they did to my plays. Montague isn't as stupid as he looks, it seems…look at this." She handed him the book. He took it and skimmed over some notes the captain had made, shaking his head dismissively and handing it back to her.
"You've come up with much better."
"They won the match, didn't they?"
He rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his coat rather than answer her. She went back to reading, so he turned away and looked over at Ron, who was now draping an arm around Hermione. She snuggled into him on the oversized armchair they were occupying. Harry smiled wryly at them both and Ron blushed a little. "Shut up Harry…"
"What?"
"Just don't say it, all right?" Angelina looked up from the book again, smiling in the same fashion Harry was. Ron groaned.
"Say what?" Harry persisted with false indifference before adopting a high-pitched, nasal girl-voice that was not unlike Pansy Parkinson's. "That you two are sooo cute together?" He narrowly avoided being struck in the face by a flying velvet cushion. Laughing, Harry sighed and put his arm around Angelina. Where he had been filled with anger at both Malfoy and Angelina before, now he found himself cheerful and self-satisfied; almost jubilant, really.
Ron had put his foot down, so to speak, to Hermione about Viktor Krum and a few other things. They had been sitting in the common room one night not too long ago; the girls were studying of course but Ron and Harry were playing wizard chess. They had been discussing (puzzling over, really) Hagrid's appearance, which seemed to get worse every day.
"His face looks like a troll used it for target practice…" Ron was saying, wincing as he watched his pawn get pummeled by Harry's knight. He was about to sweep away the remains of his doomed chess piece when he looked up and noticed Hermione wasn't reading her Ancient Runes textbook anymore. "What's that? A letter?" he raised himself up on his elbows. Harry used the opportunity to move his piece in for the kill on another of the white pawns.
"Don't cheat, Harry…" Ginny said sternly from behind him. He rolled his eyes and prodded the knight back.
Ron wasn't paying attention however. Hermione was reading something very quickly, mouthing the words and shaking her head sadly.
"Hey. Hey, Hermione what are you reading over there?"
She jumped a bit at his raised voice and frowned at him. "What? Ron, your pawn is being threatened again."
Ron sat up on his haunches and stared at her. "It's another letter from Krum, isn't it?"
Hermione's cheeks went pink. "As if that's any of your business…"
He fixed her with a forbidding gaze that Harry had rarely seen him use. The game now forgotten, Harry exchanged knowing and anticipatory glances with Angelina and Ginny and sat up too. Hermione seemed to be reading and writing at the same time; her quill was poised over a piece of parchment. Harry knew she was answering the letter tonight, and he hoped that it said what they had discussed.
"Listen…" Ron started, his voice cracking a bit as he licked his lips. "I'm…I have to say…this Krum thing has gone on long enough, hasn't it?"
Hermione and everyone else gaped at him. He looked very anxious, but determined. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you can't possibly think you can carry on a relationship with this guy through bloody letters and cards, Hermione. He lives half a world away and he's…he's an oaf!"
"Ha! Is he?" she said scathingly, setting down Viktor's letter and turning in her chair to glare at him. "And what are you? You act all jealous and you yell your head off but you never actually have anything meaningful to say, do you Ron?"
"Right." Ron stood up and marched over to her, stepping over Harry. She squealed as he seized the quill from her and snatched a clean piece of parchment over to the other side of the table, where he shooed Ginny away onto the couch and sat down. " 'Oi, Viktor Krum!' " he gritted his teeth as he wrote, dipping the quill in her ink bottle. " 'Hermione Granger is no longer interested in you, got it? She's already got a boyfriend, and his name is Ron Weasley, so get that through your thick Bulgarian head!' "
"Ron…" Harry said, trying to suppress a laugh. "Don't you think maybe you should…ask her…first…if…" Ron had fixed him with a dirty look and he trailed off. Hermione was looking at the redhead in shock. She did not seem to mind that he had declared himself her boyfriend. In fact, Harry fancied he saw her eyes glimmer with admiration.
" 'And stop sending her bloody letters, because she won't be reading them anymore and it's bloody annoying! She'll be busy with her boyfriend, Ron Weasley. That's R-O-N, W-E-A-S-!"
"All right, Ron, you've made your point!' Hermione cried, alarmed but happy. She stopped his hand from its furious scribbling and gently took away the parchment. Of course, she had no intention of letting him send that letter, but the fact that he had willingly said all this in front of everyone, and actually finally said in his own special way how he felt made her extremely pleased.
Everyone watched as he grumbled something about "who's the oaf, now?" and she got up and walked around the table and leaned down to give him a soft, tender peck on the cheek.
"I really like you, too…" she whispered. Ginny let out a happy giggle that broke the silence and Ron buried his face in his arms on the table, suddenly very aware of his behavior.
They had been kind of inseparable ever since. Though they held hands and stayed close like they were on the armchair, now, Harry wondered if they had actually officially kissed yet.
He looked back over at his own girlfriend and groaned loudly. "Put that away, will you?" He snatched the playbook from her and tossed it on the couch next to him. She made a face at him but did not protest. "I'm starting to regret giving you that back. You've got your nose in it all the time."
"I thought you understood; I was trying to find out more about…you know."
Harry understood perfectly, but it did not make him any more receptive to the idea. Apparently so did Hermione, despite Angelina's efforts to mask her statement with a blank expression. "I don't think Malfoy would be stupid enough to put anything in there about that, Angelina…" the girl said somewhat hesitantly.
Harry sighed and quickly changed the subject. "Dean said something about trying to get a party going tonight?"
Ron's face lit up and he shifted in the armchair, leaning forward so that Hermione was forced to let him take away his arm. "Sawr'im and Seamus posting that flyer before we went down to breakfast. It's brilliant, look."
He pointed over to the bulletin board that hung in the common room between the two sets of stairs leading up to the boys' and girls' dorms. There was a flyer posted in the center, covering the litter of decrees that had accumulated there over the months. Dean and Seamus had bewitched it so that it flashed bright red and green. Harry turned and squinted as he read aloud the crudely written announcement that there was to be a pre-holiday Christmas party in Gryffindor Tower after dinner that would last till dawn.
DUSK TILL DAWN SHINDIG IN GRYFFINDOR TOWER TONIGHT!
Wear festive knickers!
PUMPKIN JUICE, BUTTER BEER, MUSIC, DANCING!
Mistletoe everywhere!
(IN HONOR OF OUR DEAR HIGH INQUISITOR DELORES 'EATS POOP' UMBRIDGE)
Special HOSTS Fred and George Weasley!
"Great!" Harry beamed, turning around and giving Ron a high five across the arm of the couch. "So we should all expect to be chucked out come morning, then!"
"Hey, see you guys at the party?" some unfamiliar Gryffindor called to them as Harry and Ron were leaving dinner that evening, the girls strolling and talking amongst themselves behind them.
"Sure, um…we're just gonna catch up on some last minute…er…studying…in the library…" Ron answered uncertainly. Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs as the fourth year boy gave them puzzled looks. "I mean, right! See you there!"
"Brilliantly handled, Ron," Harry jested, shaking his head as they rounded a corner and left the fourth year and his friends behind. "Next time let me do the talking."
"Right, sorry…" Ron ran a hand through his ginger hair and gave Harry an apologetic shrug.
They were on their way up to the seventh floor for their last D.A. meeting before break, the four of them. Though they still took every precaution to avoid being discovered, they figured that simply walking together in the halls wasn't enough to make anyone suspicious. Ginny had separated from them when they left the Great Hall, as did the twins who explained that they needed to set up for the party. Everyone else would come later, as usual.
"So do you still fancy Malfoy's gonna become a Death Eater like his dear old dad?" Ron asked as they climbed a set of marble stairs.
Harry sighed. "Hermione thinks I'm being paranoid. She says he was only bluffing to scare me."
"It is his style, though, innit? And he was probably furious at you for getting back the playbook and all that…"
"Yeah, but I dunno…I have a feeling." Harry was quiet for a while, sifting through various thoughts about Malfoy, until his mind shifted to another thought pattern and he smiled to himself a little. He could hear Angelina and Hermione talking under their breath. Probably comparing Ron and me, he thought. He was a little worried that Angelina would divulge their recent goings on, but then he actually wanted to talk to Ron about them, so…he glanced at Ron sideways. The boy seemed lost in thought. "Hey, Ron? Can I ask you something?"
"Sure…" Ron shrugged again, staring down at his own moving feet.
Harry took a quick look back at the girls to make sure they were still engrossed in their own conversation before he continued. He had truthfully been wanting to have this conversation with his best friend for a while, now. He knew that they couldn't really go into all the details now, especially not with the girls behind them and the Room of Requirement only another floor up. But he still wanted to ask the question, just to make sure he wasn't totally alone in his anxiousness where this subject was concerned.
"Um…well…do you…?" He took another glance at the girls. They were laughing quietly about something, put not paying attention. "Do you ever think about…what it would be like…to-to have, um…well, you know."
Ron looked up from his shoes. "What it would be like to have what?" He frowned at Harry, probably already deducing what it was the bespectacled boy wanted to talk about.
Harry gestured at nothing in particular with his hands. "Um, you know." And he mouthed: "S-E-X?"
Ron's mouth dropped but he quickly recovered when Harry rolled his eyes and groaned pointedly under his breath. Now both boys glanced back at the girls, and Ron took hold of Harry's arm to get him to speed up a little as they ascended the next set of stairs. Harry thought in the back of his mind that he really should be checking his Marauder's map, but he reasoned that Filch was probably still below them, seeing the last of the students out of the Great Hall.
"You mean…you've actually done it?"
"No!" Harry hissed a little too loudly. The girls remained oblivious. "No, I haven't but…well we've been fooling around…a lot…lately…" He hadn't imagined he would feel so uncomfortable talking about this with someone. And it was Ron, his closest friend! Still…the intense gaze the other boy was giving him made him uneasy. He kind of wished he hadn't brought it up. "Er...never mind."
"Harry if you lose your virginity before me I'll never forgive you."
"What?"
"What?" Ron seemed surprised at himself.
"What did you just-?"
"Nothing, never mind. Shut up." Ron blushed furiously and Harry noticed that they had arrived in front of the tapestry where three trolls were beating a wizard senseless.
"Okay, now close your eyes…breathe deeply…"
Harry stood next to Cho, speaking to her softly, as the others watched. They had been learning the stuff that Harry read about in his preparation for his duel with Malfoy. And of course the first thing out of Zach Smith's mouth was: "You're the reason Umbridge posted that decree banning dueling, aren't you?" Harry did not answer him, but he didn't really need to. He knew he should never underestimate the power of hearsay, and even though Umbridge hadn't caught them, the rumors about McGonagall refusing to let her search Gryffindor Tower and sightings of Malfoy limping a little on his injured shin served to put speculation in people's heads.
But Zach piped down after a couple of meetings in which Harry passed on some of the techniques he had learned. The boy seemed eager, like most of the others, to be getting on with what he called "the really exciting stuff." Harry didn't begrudge him his enthusiasm. It was a nice change. In fact, where Zach had been the voice of dissent before, now Marietta Edgecombe had filled this position. She had been the only one who didn't fancy the idea of learning to duel. She said it scared her; it was too violent and she complained that he could end up leading them to hurt themselves.
"Marietta, I thought I made it clear before how important this kind of stuff is…" Harry had tried to explain patiently. "And I'd never intentionally hurt anybody."
Because she was Cho's friend, he didn't become as irritated with her as quickly as he had with Zach, but she was trying his patience. She sulked for most of his lessons, and only half-heartedly participated. Cho, to make up for this, operated with unabashed enthusiasm and paid extra attention when he was showing them things.
Now, she closed her eyes and did as she was told, taking slow deliberate breaths.
"Now I'm going to stop talking, but you just focus on your breathing. And the quiet. Steady your thoughts…and concentrate on your wand. Let it guide you…"
Cho seemed to be lulled by his soft way of speaking to her and she nodded slowly. Everyone waited. She stood there for a long time, very still and very quiet. Then she swayed a little and a second later shouted a hex that tore a giant hole in the cushion Zach was holding up several feet away directly across from her. Feathers flew out everywhere, but Cho's eyes opened and she beamed. Everyone gave her impressed applause.
"Good, Cho. What did you feel?"'
"A funny tremble in here?" She gestured to her midsection, furrowing her brows at him quizzically. He made a face of approval and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Is that right?"
"It's one of the places marked in the book I showed you guys. I think that means you're sensible and cautious, but very powerful. Great job."
"Thanks Harry!"
Harry shooed her off to go and sit down with the others as Zach repaired the cushion with his wand. Blowing his hair out of his face and rolling up his sleeves, Harry picked out the last person of the night with a bit of hesitancy. Marietta stood up and walked toward him, her expression conveying her attitude. He didn't waste time trying to soften her up.
"Okay, Marietta, raise your wand." She did as he said, though a bit too leisurely. Harry pressed on. "Close your eyes and focus on the quiet. Let yourself fall gradually into the quiet and stillness…"
"Your breath is tickling my cheek. I can't concentrate."
"Oh. Sorry. Right." He stepped back. "Better?"
"I suppose…"
Trying to ignore his desire to roll his eyes, Harry continued. "So you're supposed to be very still and letting the quiet wash over you."
"But it's not quiet. You're talking."
"I'm going to stop talking in a second."
"But I won't have been able to focus on anything but your voice by then."
"You'll have time to focus properly, don't worry…"
She sighed rather impatiently. "Fine, go on…"
Harry glanced over at Cho, who was looking at him apologetically, but surged on. "Okay when I stop talking, let your wand guide you, and get a spell ready because you'll feel your magic coming up pretty suddenly-"
"But if I'm supposed to be still and quiet and not thinking of anything, won't it distract me to have to come up with a charm to use?" She was whining now.
"I meant get it ready before I stop talking."
"Well, when do you stop? We've been at this for a while now. You don't think I understand how it works?"
"Well…"
"Why can't we just learn Patronus Charms instead?"
"I already told everybody, we're learning Patronus Charms after break!" he snapped, despite himself. Her eyes flew open and she rounded on him, her aimed wand swinging round with her. She brandished it at him, her mousy brown hair flinging in her face.
"Don't you yell at me!"
"I wasn't, but you're being really difficult right now-"
"Well you're trying to boss me around, and I hate this stupid dueling nonsense!"
"It is not nonsense! And get your wand out of my face."
"Oh yeah?" Marietta crossed her arms defiantly. "Seems like nonsense to me if you're running 'round dueling in the halls and almost getting people expelled."
"Getting who expelled? Where'd you hear that?"
"You're a big trouble-maker, Harry. Everyone knows it. I don't know why I joined this stupid club anyway…"
"I don't either."
"Maybe I'll leave then!"
"Go ahead and leave!"
"Hey! Guys…" Hermione was on her feet now, having had enough. "Come on, why are we fighting?"
"Because she's being a brat," replied Angelina coolly, who was up too, glaring at Marietta.
Ron snickered.
"Hey, she is not a brat." Cho said in Marietta's defense. "Take that back."
"Not until she apologizes to Harry for acting that way." Angelina did not seem particularly mindful of Cho's reproach. "Harry is teaching us something important, and she's not even trying."
"Why is it up to him to teach us anything?" Marietta spat. "You all think he's so great, but he's violent and moody and he's only a fifth year! And my mum says that it's a lie about You-Know-Who coming back, and she works at the Ministry! She talks to Aurors all the time!"
"Well your mum's being brainwashed!" Harry shouted, his cheeks burning.
"At least I have a mum!"
Angelina stepped forth threateningly. "Watch your mouth, Edgecombe."
"Marietta!" Cho hissed, her round cheeks flushing pink. Harry could tell she was having a hard time deciding whose defense she would take, and she was embarrassed that her friend was behaving in such a manner.
"Cho, who's side are you on?"
"Oh, no one's taking sides! Let's not be childish…" Hermione tried again.
"Listen." Harry raised his hands for quiet. Everyone who wasn't a part of the argument had very amused expressions, but Harry was quite serious. "Marietta, I'm not forcing you to be here. If you want to quit the D.A. then…well maybe you should go ahead." Marietta gave a sigh and looked over at Cho. After a beat, she shook her head grudgingly. "Are you sure?"
"Harry…" Cho said, but Harry waited for Marietta to nod that she was sure.
"Fine. We're out of time, so I guess we'll have to quit for tonight. We'll pick up where we left off, and I promise we'll learn the Patronus Charm next term, all right?"
There was a collective murmur of acknowledgement and everyone got to their feet, gathering their things. Harry rolled his eyes at the wall and began to count out who he'd be escorting back to their dorms. Fred walked up to him with Angelina. "You're a much more patient leader than I'd be, chap." He clapped Harry on the back. "After that comment about your mum, I'd have chucked her."
"I'm not trying to chuck anybody out," Harry muttered, opening his map and tapping it with his wand. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good…" He studied it for a second and then gave Hermione the thumb's up. "Okay, Hermione you guys are clear, you can go."
"Look, someone hung mistletoe…" Luna Lovegood said suddenly, as if she had just noticed the Christmas decorations Dobby had put up before the meeting. Harry noticed that it was right above his head and she was blinking at him expectantly.
"Er…it's probably infested with those Nargle things you're always talking about." he offered, stepping away quickly.
"Good thinking…" she sang, walking over to the door with Hermione and Ginny.
"I'm sorry about that, Harry…" Cho said, hovering near him. Marietta was waiting impatiently by the door to go back with Ron's group. Harry saw that Cho's expression of regret was genuine and he shrugged.
"It's okay, I'm not mad at you Cho."
"But your little friend…" Angelina added darkly. "She's walking on thin ice."
Harry gave Angelina a look and sighed. "She's fine. I just wish she would make up her mind about whether or not she believes me. Because frankly if she thinks I'm a liar then she shouldn't be here. Ron, your group's clear."
"She doesn't think you're a liar!" Cho assured him hastily. "I swear; I'll talk some sense into her. She's just been kind of upset because Zach is acting a bit funny towards her lately..." She leaned in a lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think he's off her—I think he fancies someone else now…"
"Oh." He blinked, not knowing what to say. "Well…that's tough, I guess. But Zach is a bit of a prat, so…tell her she shouldn't worry about it."
"I have a million times." Cho gave him a shy smile and backed away to the door. "Well goodnight Harry. Angelina. Happy Christmas if we don't see each other before we leave."
"Happy Christmas, Cho." Harry returned her smile.
"Happy Christmas…" Angelina watched her disappear through the door with Marietta, Ron, and the rest of their group. "She needs to pick her friends better." After a pause she brightened and gave him a kiss. "I know I'm ready for a pre-Christmas-Christmas party, are you?"
"Oh yeah!" Fred whooped. "George, you got it?"
George, who was standing across the room holding on to his backpack for dear life, gave his brother a thumbs up. "Got it, Fred!"
"Got what?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer. Angelina took his hand and together she, Harry, Fred, and George left the Room of Requirement.
-The day, you move, I'm probably gonna explode -It's true, I'm probably gonna explo-oh-oh-oh-oooh -Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh -You'll pray, for proof, I'm probably makin' this up -It's true, I'm probably makin' this u-uh-uh-uh-ooh -Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh -Because...
"SCREAM IT!" Fred bellowed from his position standing on a table in the middle of the room.
The silly string he was shooting from the tip of his wand flew out onto the crowd and some of it got tangled in Harry's hair, but he didn't care at all. They were all jumping up and down and thrashing their bodies all around, the newly released Weird Sisters' album that Seamus had begrudgingly lent for the benefit of the shindig turned up to its loudest capacity. They all did as Fred had instructed, because this was the third time this song had come around and everyone knew the words by now. The consensus was that this was the favorite song of the entire Gryffindor student body.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and jammed his fist in the air as he jumped up and down, the fire whiskey/apple cider cocktail in his other hand sloshing around in his goblet. He opened his mouth and screamed the chorus along with everyone else, the bass pumping in his ears right along with his heartbeat.
-My body is your body -I won't tell anybody -If you wanna use my body -GO FOR IT, YEAH!
-My body is your body -I won't tell anybody -If you wanna use my body -GOF OR IT, YEAH!
-GO FOR IT, YEAH!
Several fourth year girls exploded into a fit of giggles and toppled over the back of the couch one on top of the other in a tangle of thrashing arms and legs. They had obviously just realized what the words to the song meant. Fred hit them with some more silly string and they squealed with delight. Harry's intoxicated head swooped and he chuckled too.
The first thing that happened when he stepped through the portrait hole after they'd returned from the Room of Requirement was a light-hearted "Happy Early Christmas, Harry!" and a peck on the cheek from Ginny.
Then Dean and Seamus dragged him over to the table they had set up for beverages, including black market butterbeer they'd gotten from who-knew-where and poured him an overflowing glass of the stuff. About four beers in, the first round of that song, and after George spiked the apple cider, mayhem ensued.
First, second, and third years had been branded with stars on their foreheads by Fred and George that meant they weren't aloud to drink anything but the untainted pumpkin juice, apple cider, or eggnog. A lot of them moped about in protest for a while but soon got the cheerful bug from everyone else and simply pretended to be drunk, which to Harry seemed like much more fun to them.
It took three seventh years to sufficiently charm the Tower so that no one outside would hear the commotion, and every single one of them were taking full advantage of this.
Harry backed up, his head spinning a little, and leaned against one of the tall windows, wiping his wet hand down the front of his pants and taking another swig from his goblet. He looked around at all the decorations Katie, Alicia, Pavarti, and Ginny had helped put up. Someone had stolen Dobby's "Have A Very Harry Christmas!" baubles that Harry had snatched down and discarded from the Room of Requirement and they were now hanging from the walls, about a hundred of his own face blinking and grinning back at him. Among them was Hermione's golden tinsel that glowed; illuminating the flushed faces of all the Gryffindors now dancing and laughing and guzzling butterbeer. There was a thoughtfully decorated little Christmas tree on the table next to Fred that had at the start of the party been bewitched to sing a carol whenever someone came near it, but Fred had kicked it several times and someone put a Silencio on it. Harry saw Lavender Brown's face slacken with disappointment and knew that the little singing tree had been her idea. Now the poor thing just sat slumped on the edge of the table, very near falling as Fred's moving feet brushed at it several times. There were knickers hanging from the walls as well, some just swinging pitifully, some bewitched to glow green or red. Harry was glad no one had gotten a hold of his, though truthfully one couldn't tell at all who any of them belonged to. That didn't stop several of them from having a guess, however.
Harry took another swig from his goblet, moving a little to the music that was now changing to a song with less of a riotous tempo. He tapped his hand against his jeans along with the beat and observed the crowd. He grinned when he spotted Ginny and Dean making out in a dark corner under some mistletoe. Now, he had noticed that Ginny and Michael weren't hanging off of each other lately and that in fact Ginny seemed completely independent of him for the last month or so—but Harry's mind had been a little preoccupied so he gave it no lingering thoughts. Only tonight, at the D.A. meeting, did he notice that Ginny had arrived with Dean, stayed close to Dean, and left with Dean on her heels. They had been talking softly and laughing quietly with each other when the party was just getting started and Harry had a chance before the chaos to actually have conversations with people.
"He's our roommate!" Ron had grumbled in exasperation at one point when Harry had pointed out the couple dancing to a slow song. "I dunno if I can take it, Harry. He'd better not try to talk about what they do together or I'll feed him one of Fred's Canary Cakes!"
Now Ron was dancing with Hermione, who despite a huge effort to refuse them had allowed Fred and George to give her spiked apple cider-. Her face was flushed pink and her bushy hair was flying around wildly but very beautifully as she let Ron twirl her and dip her. Her laughter was a high-pitched, shrill sort of giggle when she was intoxicated. Harry loved Drunk Hermione.
"Hey, why are you over here all by yourself?" Angelina appeared suddenly, beaming at him. He set his goblet down on the windowsill and stood up straight, planting a firm kiss on her mouth.
"I was just resting up for you. Wanna dance?"
"Of course!"
He took her hand and led her out onto the make-shift dance floor. They had rearranged the furniture so that it formed a giant circle in the middle of the large common room and rolled up the plush rugs. Harry much preferred dancing to his own beat when compared to having to dance at the Yule Ball. And Angelina was a good dancer. She did not make him nervous, but led him smoothly, moving her body against his in such a way that allowed him to follow along almost without effort. She curved into him, her bum fitting almost perfectly into the nook of his crotch. She let him wrap an arm around her waist. The intimate moments they shared served as practice for they way they moved together now. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, allowing the music to swallow them up.
The song changed again. Harry was having so much fun.
Ron tried to mimic the movements that Harry and Angelina were doing with Hermione, but Angelina saw this and shook her head sympathetically, moving away from Harry to approach them.
"Ron, you're not doing that right." She'd had a couple of goblets of spiked cider, too, and Harry took note of the playful gleam in her eyes as she reached out for Hermione. To his and Ron's astonishment, Hermione came forward and Angelina swung her around so that she was in the same position that Angelina had been when dancing with Harry.
Several people slowed their steps, turning their curious gazes to the pair, who did not seem to notice. Hermione screwed up her face like she knew what she was doing and let Angelina lead her as they danced, their movements exactly the same.
"You do it like this!" Angelina told Ron and giggled at his gobsmacked expression as she took Hermione's hips in either hand. They danced on, Hermione shimmying her hips and bending her knees to the floor and zipping up again, snapping her fingers. Angelina laughed at the silly expressions on the boys' faces as the girls embraced each other cordially.
Fred shouted from the table, pointing the girls out to everyone with his wand; it still had a few errant strands of silly string hanging from it. "That's how it's done, boys and girls! That-Is-How-It's-Done!"
George jumped up on the table with Fred and the boys began a jig; their bodies jerking around haphazardly and their red hair swinging around in their faces. They performed some routine that had everyone clapping in unison and cheering them on. Angelina released Hermione, much to Harry and Ron's dismay, and cheered too. The boys capped off their routine by jumping together from the table into the waiting arms of the crowd, finally knocking the little tree to the floor.
Once they'd been let down to their feet again, George leaned in and said in Harry's ear: "Who's trying to get their money back, now, eh?" Harry barked like Sirius did when he laughed especially hard and George gave him a high five. "Now step aside lad, I'm going to dance with your girlfriend now. Angelface! Come to Georgy!"
Angelina gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek and seconds later George had twirled her around and dipped her. Seconds after that Hermione came crashing into him, apparently so encumbered by laughter that she could scarcely talk or breathe. He helped her to her feet again and she gripped the collar of his shirt, her face red. "Harry! I-I love parties!"
Harry had to fight to keep himself from laughing at her. "That's nice, Hermione…"
"And…and I love you, too Harry! You're my best mate!"
"Same here."
It came out of nowhere. "Mistletoe!" And she kissed him on the chin before melting into a giggle fit again.
Harry deposited Hermione into Ron's waiting arms and said firmly: "We are not letting her drink ever again."
"Agreed."
The party did not last till dawn, but it was almost four in the morning when George had finally taken the last pair of knickers down from the wall with his wand. He turned to face the scattered applause from Harry, Fred, Dean, and Ron. Seamus was passed out on the couch. Ginny was asleep in Dean's lap in an armchair, and Hermione had dragged herself up the stairs with help from Angelina about twenty minutes ago. Neville was helping Harry move the last of the furniture back.
"Brilliantly executed, as usual, Georgie." Fred said, taking the still-glowing kickers from his brother and shoving them on Harry's head. Harry snatched them off and threw them at him. "Okay that's enough cleaning, lads. Let's turn in. I'm knackered."
"And still drunk." Harry added.
They all trooped upstairs. Dean gently woke Ginny and kissed her goodnight. She waved to the boys as she made her way up. Seamus had to be shocked awake with some water to the face. He shook his damp hair out like a dog and lumbered along behind them, grumbling under his breath. His accent was twice as thick when he was drunk, Harry noted, and for the whole party it had been kind of hard for him to understand what the boy was saying half the time.
Fred and George sang the old pub song quietly.
-Old Henry, Old Henry, he poured us some rum!
-Like he does every evenin' when our chores are done!
-The trolls scratch their arses, the hags they all cry!
"Hey, you got it right." Fred told his brother, impressed, as they turned a corner toward their own room. George shrugged and they draped their arms around each other, singing softly until they disappeared.
Harry fell into his bed, a big smile on his sleepy face.
Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville did pretty much the same and they all lay there for a moment listening to the happy silence until Ron sat up straight and shouted: "Dean, come on mate, my sister?"
Harry burst into laughter along with everyone else except Seamus, who had passed out again. Dean shrugged slyly and Ron chucked a pillow at him. Harry heard Dean catch it and mutter something about Ginny being a good kisser. Next thing he felt was Ron's foot land heavily in his mattress as he stepped over him to get to Dean's bed.
The boys whacked each other with pillows, Ron shouting "Take it back, wanker!" and Dean laughing "But she is!"
When they tired themselves out Ron made Dean swear not to repeat any of his goings on with Ginny in his presence and Dean agreed. Harry thought of Angelina. She had told him before the music was too loud to hold conversations that she had overheard him and Ron talking on their way to the D.A. meeting. He had attempted to deny it, feeling a small poke of embarrassment, but she saw through his facade.
"I've been thinking about it too."
He was taken aback, but now realized that he shouldn't have been surprised at all. Especially not after what they'd done the night before…
"You have?"
She nodded at him and sipped from her goblet, her eyes shining. "Uh huh…"
"So, um…what exactly have you been thinking?"
"That I think we should wait." His heart sank, which also kind of surprised him, but she continued. "And that it's a big step. You have to have certain feelings for a person—deep feelings—to do something like that. In my opinion, anyway."
"So we're not ready?"
"I don't know." She said honestly.
"Me neither…"
You have to have certain feelings.
Harry agreed with this. There was no doubt in his mind that Angelina was one of his favorite people in the world right now, and he did feel he cared for her. He didn't like to agree with Hermione in thinking that he had developed such a strong attachment to her purely because of his lack of a descent home life growing up. Though he knew that had something to do with it, he also couldn't help feeling that there was something stronger and more pure developing between them. How deeply did his feelings go? Was it just a strong curiosity to discover what sex was really like? Or was it that he wanted her to be his first…because he actually loved her?
Harry was still drunk and he was making himself confused.
"Hey, Harry I'm sorry about what I said in the hall 'bout never forgiving you if you…you know…before me." Ron mumbled drunkenly as he kicked off his pants and climbed into bed. Harry rolled over and got up to get undressed too. "I mean, it's not like I'd be that upset. I'd be proud, really. But, blimey Harry!"
Harry frowned at his friend, reaching up to pull his shirt over his messy head. "What?"
"You do realize you're setting a standard for Hermione that she probably expects me to follow?" Ron said seriously, his arm mid-pull as he was getting under the covers.
"That's rubbish."
"No it's not. She's always looking at the two of you all cozy-like. I can see it in her face."
"She's just glad I'm finally getting over my years of physical and mental abuse…" Harry intoned sarcastically, though it hurt him somewhat to joke about such things. He slipped on his pajama bottoms and patted Hedwig gently in her cage before climbing into his bed again and removing his glasses.
"What was that?"
"Nothing…" Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "I don't think Hermione expects you to act any way other than like yourself, Ron."
"More like she wants me to be all romantic and bold like that sausage head Viktor Krum..."
"So be bold and romantic…" Harry was falling asleep.
"Easy for you to say."
Harry smiled. "Stop fretting, you git. Enjoy it: you've got a girlfriend."
He didn't hear what Ron said next. He slipped away, into cool darkness. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. The dream he had at first was a funny reflection of the night's events. He was arguing with Marietta in the D.A. room. She was yelling at him that he had lured her there under false pretenses: he had apparently promised her one hundred and fifty chocolate frog cards if she joined the D.A.
"What? No I didn't…" he told her, but she insisted.
"Yes, that's why I joined this stupid club in the first place, but we haven't gotten a single card since we started! You're a liar, Harry! If you don't give me those cards, I'm leaving!"
And then Cho butted in, saying that last year Cedric had given them loads of cards, and she pulled the things from her robes in handfuls, chucking them at him viciously. "I'm sorry Marietta said that about your mum, Harry, but you really should have given her the cards like you promised."
"How about Harry's Firebolt?" Hermione suggested, now suddenly replacing Cho. "Would that make up for it, Marietta?"
Harry was on the point of telling them both that there was no way he was giving up his Firebolt just to keep her there and that it was absurd anyway because they knew perfectly well that Umbridge had it. But the dream changed…
And he was gliding on his stomach between metal bars and across smooth stone. His body felt sleek, powerful, and flexible. He knew it was dark, but he could see things in shimmering colors, almost like night-vision. And he came upon a man, who was sitting on the floor, sleeping with his chin sunk low to his chest. Harry licked the air, tasting the man's scent.
Harry had the overwhelming urge to bite the man, but he had to master himself—he had work to do. Important work for his master. He needed to find something…
But the man was stirring awake now, and seconds later he had spotted Harry and jumped to his feet. He saw the man's hand go immediately into the folds of his robes, and as he withdrew a wand from them Harry knew he had no choice. He reared his sleek body upward from the floor, almost meeting the man's own height, opening his mouth wide.
He felt his fangs sink exquisitely into the man's flesh as he struck once, twice, three times…blood spilling from the wounds Harry made. On the fourth strike, he heard the man's delicate rib crack under the force of his powerful jaw. The man yelled in pain and fell like a sack of rice to the floor. Harry could feel the blood oozing down his long body and saw it splattering on the floor.
His forehead was burning hot, and then it started to throb something awful….he wanted to scream at the surge of searing pain that was now shooting through his scar.
"Harry! Harry wake up!"
He was covered in icy sweat from head to foot. Ron was shaking him. He was all twisted up in his covers and he fought to get free, his forehead feeling as if someone had stuck it in the fireplace. When he had managed to release himself from the twisted sheets, he rolled over and vomited right there on the floor next to his bed. When the mixture of apple cider, eggnog, and chunks of his dinner finally stopped gushing out of him, Harry raised his aching head and searched out Ron's blurry face.
"Ron, y-your dad…" He managed through the dry heaves that were racking through his abdomen. "Your dad's been attacked…"