A/N: Finally. The dream sequence has a purpose. I think the comment I received more than any other after last chapter was: "This is very confusing." I can only say that there was a point, it just took me a very long time to get to it. But thanks, as usual, for all your comments. Feel completely free to keep feeding the ego. *grin* Special thanks to James and Kristin, who got this back to me in remarkable timing, despite its fairly hefty length.
Without the path to lead him, Harry felt disoriented. The darkness over the meadow was consuming, he could barely make out the slight sway of the tall grass. He kept moving forward, all sense of direction gone. Tall shrubs and weeds brushed by his face and tore at his clothes. The ground was crunchy under his feet.
More than ever, Harry felt alone. Ron was gone. He'd left Hermione behind. He was off facing… whatever it was he had to face… alone.
He was tired. As far as he was concerned, he'd been walking nearly the entire day. His stomach roared at him, the tea and biscuits long forgotten. The night air felt cool against his bare arms and he felt himself shivering slightly.
He wasn't sure how long he walked. The meadow continued on, twisting, the same, unabating. There appeared to be no end in sight.
Slowly the plants began to even out. When the last of the meadow faded, Harry found himself lost in a large field.
He continued along the field, the walk was easier, but no less frustrating. Again, he had no sense of direction, no idea if he was heading in the right way or the wrong way. The sky began to lighten, the rising of the sun a short time away. Eventually, faced with the infinite plains of the field, Harry grew restless.
He stopped, scowling largely. "Okay," he said loudly. "This is getting ridiculous."
There was no answer to his call, nor had Harry expected one. He sat down on the grass, his aching feet screaming for a rest.
"I'd really like to wake up now," he muttered, to no one in particular. "I'm sure people are worried about why I've been asleep for so long."
There was still no answer. Harry, in vague experimentation, pinched himself, hoping that might awaken him. He frowned when the pinch hurt, but he remained seated on the ground.
Rising, he decided his only option was to continue on. Pressing forward, he kept walking, his pace slow and plodding. His feet hurt. His stomach hurt. He felt faint and light-headed.
Just when Harry had almost given up, the brightening sky blackened before his very eyes. The sun, which had just begun to creep over the horizon, disappeared behind a storm of angry, black clouds.
Harry blinked, feeling like something was about to happen. He glanced around, noticing for the first time that he was no longer on the grassy field.
He was in a graveyard. A graveyard with only two tombstones.
Harry approached them cautiously, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His hands shook as he neared them, his breath coming out in short gasps. He reached the tombstones and crouched down, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so.
`It's just a dream,' he told himself. `Whatever happens, this is just a dream.'
Slowly Harry opened his eyes. Despite the quickly waning daylight, the names on the tombstones jumped out at him, clear as day.
Tom Morvolo Riddle
"I Am Lord Voldemort"
Harry James Potter
"The Boy Who Lived"
"Tragic, isn't it?"
Harry whirled around, searching frantically for his wand as he did so.
"Oh, there's no need for that, Harry. This is only a dream after all. I think our final confrontation will be somewhere well… more concrete, to say the least."
Harry backed up a step, banging into one of the graves as he did so. He glanced down. It was his own. The realization made him feel sick. His knees felt weak and he resisted the urge to let himself collapse.
Grabbing the edge of the stone to support himself, he stood up, glaring at Voldemort as he did so. Voldemort stared back at him, a smile playing across his lips. His long, black robes billowed down around him, making him blend in with the darkness and shadows. His pose was relaxed, almost conciliatory, and making Harry more nervous than anything else.
Harry realized that this part wasn't just his dream. No, Voldemort was really standing right in front of him, Voldemort was in his head, Voldemort would remember this conversation upon awakening…
`He wants something,' Harry thought, surprised at his own insight. `He wants something from me.'
It gave Harry power. Feeling somewhat more confident, he stood up a little straighter, daring to let go of the stone as he did so.
"Tom," he greeted quietly. "How good of you to drop by my head."
Voldemort smiled. The smile twisted his face, only succeeding in making him look more sinister. "Your head?" he said mildly. "What makes you so sure we're not in my head?"
"Because-" Harry sputtered. "Because-the stuff that happened-"
"Could have been my attempts at playing with your head, no?" Voldemort said, amusement colouring his voice. "Quite fascinating, really… to see how you interact with those around you…"
As Voldemort's words began sinking in, Harry had to fight back a rapidly growing anger. How much of his "dream" had he really created? How much had Voldemort implanted in his mind? How much control did he have? He already knew he couldn't wake up. And though nearly everything that had happened wasn't real and couldn't possibly be real, it felt more real than Harry would have liked.
The ease in which Voldemort had managed to play with Harry's emotions was horrifying. Harry welcomed his anger, using it to push away his fear. "If you think that you can just use me for your sick games, then you have another thing coming!"
"Temper, Potter, temper," Voldemort said coolly. "Let me give you some advice, Harry, as one enemy to another. Emotions are weakness, never allow yourself to be swayed by them."
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "That's right. I'll be sure and do exactly what the evilest wizard of our time wants me to do."
"Controlling your emotions does not make you evil," Voldemort said, a slight smirk on his features. "Though, if it is evil you're after, I must say, you would make a fine dark wizard."
Harry knew that Voldemort was baiting him. Despite that, the accusation still managed to make his face flush. "I'd never become a dark wizard," Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Never."
Voldemort approached him, bending down so he could read the gravestones. Harry stayed where he was, refusing to let Voldemort intimidate him. "Is that really what you think?" Voldemort asked, tapping his tombstone. "You and I are a lot alike, Potter. Even you must see that."
"We're nothing alike," Harry spat immediately.
Voldemort's smirk widened. "Harry, do us a favour, hmm? I'm connected to your mind in ways you have no comprehension of. Lying will get you no where."
Harry stared stonily back at him. "We're nothing alike," he repeated. "Someone once told me that it was my ability to love that separated us. You can never love, you can never understand it. And that makes us very, very different."
Voldemort's eyes darkened. "I see," he said. "You may have a point there. But don't you think, Harry, after all this time, that love is only a weakness? The most important people in your life died because they loved you. And those that you love, now, are at risk. Don't think that I won't attempt to use them in order to destroy you."
Hearing his worst fear spoken aloud was almost more than Harry could take. He looked away from Voldemort's fiery eyes, choosing instead to focus on the ground. "I'll kill you before I let you take any more of the people I love."
"Brave words," Voldemort said, rising. Harry could feel his form towering over him, but he refused to look and allow Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing his fear. "Though mostly empty. I have more power than you can ever attempt to achieve."
There. There it was. Harry felt a small pang of victory at Voldemort's words. Fear. Voldemort feared him. Harry knew, in that moment, that Voldemort was lying. Voldemort was afraid of him, he was afraid of whatever power Harry had that could destroy him.
Harry let a little smile play across his mouth. "Oh, really?" he said. "Is that what you really believe?"
Voldemort stiffened. "You think you're important do you, Harry? Let me tell you something, boy. You're nothing to me. Nothing but an annoyance that I'll one day destroy."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. I'm nothing. Oops! Didn't realize that when I defeated you as a baby. And, you know, I meant to die all those times you tried to kill me-it just slipped my mind. Sorry about that."
Voldemort's eyes flashed and he made a move towards Harry before holding himself back. "You're lucky this is only a dream," he snarled. "Or you'd have long ago joined your dead parents."
Harry felt a familiar flash of anger at the thought of his parents. Holding himself aloof, his eyes darkened as he kept his unwavering gaze on the wizard before him. "Temper, Tom, temper. Emotions are a weakness."
Voldemort's eyes flashed again before his face went impassive. He studied Harry coolly. "What about your girlfriend, Potter?" he asked softly, a predatory glint in his eyes. "One of your deepest fears, jeopardizing her safety because you chose to fall in love with her. Tell me, Harry, do you think she's awarded the same protection as you during summer hours? Can you really protect her every waking moment of every day? Are you really naïve enough to believe that your "love" can protect her? Because, I assure you, I'm planning on killing her. Painfully."
Harry felt all of the colour drain from his face. Every part of him instinctively flinched at the way Voldemort was casually threatening Hermione's life. But despite the loud beating of his heart, Harry managed to keep his face calm. He knew what Voldemort was doing and he was determined not to let it work. He refused to give Voldemort any more control over his emotions.
"You clearly have a death wish," Harry said, between clenched teeth. "Keep threatening Hermione and we'll see which one of us ends up in the ground."
Something in Harry's words made Voldemort's eyes jump in interest. "Interesting choice of words, Potter."
"Is that so, Riddle?"
Voldemort's eyes flared in indignation. "That name holds no meaning for me."
"Yeah," Harry said, grinning. "But it pisses you off, so that's enough for me."
Voldemort let out a sharp cackle of laughter. "It really is a pity, Potter, that your are so dead-set against becoming a dark wizard. You would have been a powerful ally."
"As it is," Harry said, meeting his gaze. "That's never going to happen. I'm not your ally. Far from it, actually."
"Ahh, there it is," Voldemort said, steepling his long, bony fingers together. "After all this time, it is you who might stop my rise to power. It is you who has the power to destroy me. It is not Dumbledore, nor anyone at your idiot Ministry. It is only you."
`The prophecy,' Harry thought. `He wants to know what was in the prophecy.'
Suddenly clear on where Voldemort was heading, Harry back up a few steps, trying harder than ever not to let his facial expression show his internal panic.
Voldemort studied the two graves with avid concentration. "So who will it be?" he said softly. "One or the other, is that the fate that awaits us, Potter?"
Harry could only hold his silence, lest he say anything else that would give too much of the prophecy away.
"Interesting," Voldemort said, continuing to stare at the gravestones. "And it was I who gave you such power when you received that accursed scar so many years ago." Voldemort's upper lip curled in disgust. "You can't possibly hope to defeat me."
Harry stared at him, eyes unblinking. He felt confidence surge through him. "Actually," Harry said quietly. "I think I have pretty good odds here. I'm beginning to think that Dumbledore isn't the only wizard you fear."
Voldemort laughed. "There is no one that I fear. I am the greatest wizard of all time. I have defied death time and time again. It would be impossible to defeat me completely."
"Not impossible," Harry said, holding his challenging gaze. "Difficult, I'm sure. But not impossible."
"A warning, Potter," Voldemort said, eyes settling on their gravestones again. "You are not as well protected as you might think. I will kill you at the first opportunity that I have."
"And I'll be sure to return the favor," Harry said evenly.
"I'd love for you to try," Voldemort said.
"Merlin, you have an ego," Harry muttered. "Okay, this is just getting ridiculous. If there was ever a time for me to wake up…"
"Harry!"
Harry stared at Voldemort. "What?" he demanded. "Any more hollow threats? Anyone else close to me that you'd like to threaten? Hmm, let's see, you haven't brought up Ron yet…"
"HARRY!"
"Well, he is my best friend," Harry said, a tad defensive. "You don't have to get all in a strop about it…"
"HARRY!"
"Well, fine, then! You haven't gone after Hagrid yet, he's pretty close to me…"
"Harry? What are you talking about?"
With great effort, Harry sat up, slamming his head into someone as he did so. "Bloody hell!" he hollered, feeling at the end of his rope. Holding his nose, Harry squinted his eyes, some kind of sense worming its way into his mind. That's when he noticed that he was lying in bed, in a hospital bed, and that Neville Longbottom was staring at him with very wide eyes, squeaking and rubbing his forehead.
What the hell was going on? Harry looked around frantically, groping blindly for his glasses. "What's going on?" he demanded, trying to get his bearings. "Where's Voldemort? Where's the graveyard? Where am I?"
Neville whimpered and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Harry…" he said, sounding faint. "You… um, are you feeling okay? Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"
Harry's head was spinning. "I'm awake," he said, feeling a little bit jubilant. "I'm awake. No more stupid paths that don't end, no more dark meadows and graveyards and, best of all, no Voldemort."
Neville whimpered again. "S-sorry I woke you, Harry," he squeaked. "It's… you were thrashing around and… well, I didn't know… I wasn't sure if…"
Harry waved a hand, knocking the bedside table as he did so. Aha! His glasses. Feeling triumphant, he placed them on the bridge of his nose, grateful that he could see Neville properly. "It's okay," he said. "In fact… it's great. I wasn't sure I was ever going to be able to wake up."
That reminded Harry that he'd been dreaming for nearly two days straight. He glanced around the hospital wing, surprised to see that he and Neville appeared to be alone. Well, he didn't expect people to stay vigilant by his bedside or anything, but some kind of concern would have been nice. Suddenly worried, he frowned in Neville's direction.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
Neville looked at him strangely. "Harry," he said slowly. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey…"
"I'm fine!" Harry said, a warning note to his voice. "Just… where is everyone?"
Neville shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Well, uh, most people are eating dinner. I was sort of hoping that I'd be able to get you alone for a bit."
Harry stared at him. "What?"
"I mean… I just… I needed someone to talk to." Neville stared down at his hands. "I didn't really know who else to go to."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling nervous and more than a little confused. "Well, I… Hermione's a really good listener, you know. And, actually, Ron isn't too bad-"
Neville shook his head, his cheeks going red. "No!" he said loudly. "It's, well, it's…" his voice dropped an octave. "Girl stuff."
Harry stared at him. Oh, no. No. No way. He hated these conversations. Hated them. He shook his head, willing the panic to leave his mind. "Neville," he said seriously. "How long have I been asleep?"
Neville jerked a shoulder. "I don't know, Harry. Not long. A few hours maybe. Why?"
"A few hours?" Harry cried, incredulous. "No! That's not right! It's been… it's been days!"
Neville stood up, looking embarrassed. "Harry… are you sure you're okay? Maybe this wasn't the best time to bring this up…"
Harry avoided Neville's eyes, feeling guilty. He gave a long, pained sigh. "Has it really only been hours?"
Neville nodded, looking sheepish.
"Oh, well… that's good," Harry said slowly. "I'm glad that no one was worried about me, I guess."
Neville just continued to stare at him. "Are you sure you don't want me to get someone? I could get Hermione if you want, I think she's in the library."
"No," Harry said quickly. "It's fine. It's… it's nothing. What did you want to talk to me about?"
Neville fidgeted nervously. "If you're uncomfortable, I understand. I just… I really just needed someone to talk to and…. And, well, you have a ton of experience with girls and stuff so I thought that… why are you laughing?"
"Me?" Harry said. "Experience with girls? Seriously, have you tried Ron? He's not bad, all things considered."
If possible, Neville blushed even harder. "I, uh… I can't talk to Ron," he swallowed. "I don't think… I don't think it would be appropriate."
Harry continued to stare at him. "Neville, is this about Hermione again? Because-"
"No!" Neville cut in empathetically. "No, no," he gestured wildly. "I don't like Hermione anymore. Besides she's, well, yours, so I never even considered…"
"Mine?" Harry repeated, feeling tingly all of a sudden. "Is that what people think?"
"Well, actually," Neville said, a small frown on his features. "I think you're more generally thought of as hers, but the feeling's still there, isn't it?"
"Hers?" Harry echoed, grinning. "I'm hers?"
Neville just shrugged. "Hermione's scary when she's angry," he said, by way of explanation. "I think most people would think twice before making a move on you."
Harry, feeling oddly cheered by that piece of news, was suddenly inclined to be a little more generous to Neville. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
Neville sucked in a breath and mumbled, "I migh' avekissed inneysley"
Harry stared. "What?"
Neville stood up. "I KISSED GINNY WEASLEY!" he yelled out. The omission made his eyes widen in fear and he sat back down, looking mortified. "Oh, no," he moaned. "Someone must have heard that…"
Harry just stared, feeling an increasing panic. Well, that at least explained why Neville couldn't talk to Ron…
"You kissed Ginny Weasley?" Harry repeated loudly.
Neville turned a fiery shade of red and looked wildly around the hospital wing. "Yes-no! Yes! No! Yes! Damn it! Someone's going to hear!"
"Okay," Harry said, attempting to sound soothing. "It's okay. Just don't panic."
"I'M NOT PANICKING!" Neville shouted before burying his head in his hands. "Harry," he moaned, "what am I going to do?"
"Err…" Harry replied, rather unhelpfully.
Neville looked up at him eagerly. "Yeah? What do you think?"
"Err…" Harry said again, thinking about how wildly unfair this whole thing was. He'd just awaken from what one could construe as a terrible nightmare. It didn't seem right that now he was expected to help Neville with girl problems. Ginny Weasley problems, no less. "Well, um… do you like her?"
Neville turned an even deeper shade of red. He merely nodded.
"Okay," Harry said, taking pity on him. "And… err… does she like you?"
Neville just shrugged, looking disturbingly close to tears.
"Well!" Harry said brightly. "That sounds encouraging! I think you should go for it! How did she react when you kissed her?"
Neville studied the floor with concentration. "She kind of… ran away."
"She ran away?" Harry repeated in horror. He felt stirrings of sympathy for Neville. "Before she ran away did she, err… you know, kiss you back?"
Neville pawed at the floor with his foot. "Yes, she did. She… really did." Neville looked even more embarrassed. "There might have been tongue."
"She slipped you tongue???" Harry repeated again, feeling increasingly more impressed by Neville's exploits.
Neville glanced around the hospital wing desperately. "Harry…" he said faintly. "Do you think that maybe you could keep your voice down?"
"Yeah, sorry… just surprised, that's all."
Neville looked dejected. "Well, I know I'm not the most popular guy in the school," he said, a melancholy note to his voice. "I guess it was stupid to think that someone like Ginny might like me."
"No!" he said quickly. "Neville, it's just… she slipped you tongue!" Harry grinned. "From what I know of it, that's a pretty drastic move for a first kiss. That's probably why she ran away, she was too embarrassed to face you."
Neville finally glanced up from the floor, hope shining in his eyes. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah. It sounds like she fancies you."
"Really?" Neville said again, back to looking like an eager puppy.
"Definitely," Harry said. "You should find her, you know, reassure her. Girls like that."
"Really?"
Harry sighed. "Yes."
Neville looked a little bit cheered at that. "Harry?" he asked, looking embarrassed. "When you and Hermione you know…" he dropped his voice. "Kissed for the first time, did she slip you… tongue?"
Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering whether or not Neville was joking. Realizing that he wasn't, Harry felt his face heat up a little in embarrassment.
"Uh, no…" Harry said slowly. "Hermione probably would have cursed me if I tried anything like that. As it was, I'm pretty sure she hit me afterwards. Course," Harry continued, smirking slightly. "We don't have much trouble snogging now…"
"Did she really hit you?" Neville asked, eyes wide.
Harry winced. Why, why had he ever brought that up? "Err… yeah, I guess so." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, not hard or anything. She was just surprised is all. I think," he added uncertainly, beginning to wonder why Hermione had hit him all those months ago.
Neville leaned forward in interest. "Really?" he breathed. "Things for you two always seemed so… easy…"
"No, not so much," Harry said, face heating up again. "Look, Neville, it's not really something that I want to talk about."
Neville's eyes registered hurt. "Oh," he said in a melancholy voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just don't really know what I'm doing. I don't want to mess things up."
At the dejected look on Neville's face, Harry felt some of his resolve crumble. "Fine," Harry muttered. "Just… don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially Ron."
Neville paled. "Oh, no…" he moaned. "Ron! Ron is going to murder me."
"Neville, I don't think that Ron-"
"Yes, he will!" Neville interrupted, voice going up an octave. "He nearly killed you when you and Hermione first started going out! And I just kissed his sister!"
"WHAT?" Harry burst out angrily. "He did not nearly kill me! Who told you that?"
Neville had the sense to look embarrassed. "Well, when Ron told us about it afterwards…"
"Ron told you about it afterwards?" Harry said, furious. "He spread that around??? It was-he did not nearly kill me!"
"Of-of course, Harry."
"He got LUCKY!" Harry yelled, still angry. "Lucky, d'you hear me? He got lucky."
"O-okay, Harry."
"Just because he got the word `expelliarmus' out before I could get the word `stupefy' out does NOT MEAN HE NEARLY KILLED ME!"
Neville actually stumbled backwards a step. "Oh, no," he moaned. "I'd never be able to take Ron on in a duel. I'm going to die..."
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. "You're not going to die," he said irritably.
Neville's eyes widened. "Ginny used to go out with Dean! Dean's going to hold me down while Ron kills me!"
"What?" Harry said. "I doubt that-"
Neville pointed a shaking finger in his direction. "You! Ginny used to like you!" Neville was visibly sweating now. "You're in on it, too, aren't you? You want me dead!"
"I-huh? What? What are you going on…" Neville was as white as a sheet and looked near passing out. "NEVILLE! Just… Oh… to hell with it… Petrificus Totales!"
Neville's entire body froze up and all he could do was stare at Harry with wide, accusatory eyes.
"Sorry, Neville," Harry said. "I just… listen, okay? No one is going to kill you, I promise. Yeah, Ron's a little… sensitive, but he'll deal with it. Just… get Ginny to tell him or something. As for Dean, he and Lavender seem pretty close lately, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. And Ginny's crush on me was very much unreciprocated. Look, I'm going to unfreeze you and you're going to find Ginny and talk to her. Ask her about how she's feeling, girls love that. Be as supportive as you possibly can and let her make the next move. If she's crying, which she very well might be, just… try not to step on her feet or anything, okay? And Ron did NOT nearly kill me. Finite Incantantum."
Neville immediately fell over, banging into the floor with a sickening crunch. "Ow!" he yelped pathetically.
Harry winced. "Sorry."
Neville picked himself up from the floor and shook his head. "No, it's…" he face broke out into a radiant grin. "Thanks, Harry!"
With a silly smile on his face, Neville walked with his head high out of the hospital wing.
Finally alone, Harry allowed himself the simple pleasure of leaning back. For the first time in weeks he didn't feel tired. This cheered him and he decided that his next move would be to ask Madam Pomfrey for permission to leave. He glanced idly around the hospital wing, his thoughts returning to his befuddling dream.
He considered-and immediately scrapped-sharing the dream with Hermione and Ron. It would only worry Hermione and she already worried enough about him as it was. And, as much as Harry valued Ron's friendship, the red-head would be less than helpful at discerning the meanings hidden in his strange dream. Harry resolved to at least mention meeting Voldemort to Dumbledore, if nothing else.
***
After much hemming, hawing, and general arguing, Madam Pomfrey finally agreed to release Harry the next morning.
Feeling decidedly cheerful, Harry rose eagerly and practically took off running towards the Great Hall in order to meet Ron and Hermione at breakfast.
The meal was already in full swing when he arrived and the entire school was witness to his entrance. Harry was uncomfortably aware of the silence that descended upon the Great Hall with his arrival, and he bowed his head, hurrying over to the Gryffindor table.
He found Ron and Hermione right away. They were both staring at him with slightly surprised expressions. He sat down next to Hermione, feeling somewhat self-conscious by the obvious attention he was getting.
"Hey," he said weakly.
Hermione recovered from her shock first. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply. "You're supposed to be resting!"
Ron started snickering. "Getting tired of snoozing all day, mate?"
Harry jerked a shoulder. "I'm fine, Hermione. Madam Pomfrey said I could get back to classes and stuff."
"Oh," she said, blinking. "Well, that's good…"
Their eyes met and Harry wished that he could reach out to her, but the thought of so many eyes staring at them held him frozen in place. Hermione gave him a timid smile, and Harry could tell that she was struggling against the same impulse. Ron, paying no heed to anyone, eagerly dug into his breakfast.
"I'm starved," he declared, shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth as Hermione looked on in vague disgust.
Eventually, conversation started to pick up again as the other students returned to their own affairs. Harry couldn't quite contain his sigh of relief. "People are going to be staring at me all day, aren't they?"
"Hate to break it to you, Harry," Ron said with a grin. "But people pretty much stare at you all the time."
"Right," Harry said, a little distracted. He glanced around the Great Hall, sinking down in his seat when he found hundreds of eyes peering at him eagerly. "Err… no one thinks I'm, you know, nutters anymore, right?"
"Nope," Ron said cheerfully. "You've been elevated back to hero status. Mostly, anyway."
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "What?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Ron sighed. "Well… it's just that…"
"Yes?"
"There seems to be…"
"Yes?"
"Some kind of a sense that…"
"Hey, Harry!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked up, surprised to see Neville grinning at the three of them. Harry shrank down further into his seat.
"It's great to see you out of the hospital," Neville said, sounding entirely too happy. He leaned closer to Harry and winked. "By the way, the advice you gave me… worked great."
Neville looked at Hermione now, who was staring with her mouth slightly agape. Neville gave her a thumbs up sign and bent closer to her. "Great job picking Harry… I'm sure he makes an excellent boyfriend…"
Ron flushed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Neville wavered a little under Ron's gaze. "Ron," he squeaked nervously, backing up a step. "How are you?"
"Fine," Ron said, narrowing his eyes. "What's gotten into you today?"
"Nothing, nothing," Neville said, shooting Harry a panicked look.
"He's, uh… really happy about… something…" Harry said, rather unhelpfully.
"We can see that…" Ron muttered.
"Ron," Neville said, sounding nervous. "Have you talked to Ginny yet today?"
"No. Why?"
Neville started backing away. "No reason. See you guys later. Glad you're feeling better, Harry."
After he was gone, Ron stared after him, looking bewildered. Suddenly, his mouth turned into a smirk. "So…" he began conversationally. "How long has Neville had a crush on you for, Harry?"
Harry stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
Hermione tutted. "Honestly, Ron. I'm sure Neville was just… he was… I'm sure he was… Harry, what was he going on about?"
Harry tried to look innocent. "No idea. What's for breakfast?"
"Ha!" Ron yelled triumphantly. "He does have a crush on you! You just don't want to admit it!"
Harry concentrated on piling his plate with food. "Ron," he hissed. "I'm not sure everyone at the Slytherin table heard you. Try it again with more volume."
"Sarcasm accomplishes nothing," Hermione said briskly. "Now, we know you're hiding something, so just tell us."
"Yeah!" Ron burst in. "Or Hermione's not going to kiss you for a week!"
"Hey!" Harry and Hermione yelled in unison.
Ron looked pleased with himself. "So? What is it that you're hiding from us?"
Harry sighed and steadfastly tried to ignore the pleading looks Ron and Hermione were shooting him. "Well…" he mumbled. "I sort of… gave Neville girl advice." Having said all that in a rush, Harry stared down at his plate. "Mmm… pancakes… looks great…"
"You did what?" Ron yelped.
"Oh, Harry, you didn't!" Hermione said faintly.
Harry's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermione flushed. "N-nothing… it's just that…"
"You're kind of an idiot when it comes to girls," Ron filled in helpfully.
"What?" Harry said, horrified. "I am not!"
Hermione pointed to her plate, flushing an even deeper shade of red. "You're right, Harry," she said. "Those pancakes do look awfully good."
"I… hey! Wait a minute! You think that I don't know anything about girls?"
"Yep," Ron said cheerfully. "You don't. Completely useless."
"Ron…" Hermione hissed warningly.
"I'll have you know!" Harry said angrily. "That the advice I gave Neville worked out great. Did you see how happy he was?"
Hermione looked worried. "Oh, dear. Maybe I should talk to him…"
Harry stared at her. "Hermione! What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing," she responded vaguely, finding her plate intensely interesting. "Eat your breakfast, Harry."
Ron grinned, looking smug. "Should have had him come to me, Harry."
Harry began to feel a little uncomfortable. "Well, I just thought… having some experience in the matter… I could, you know, help him out."
"Right," Ron said, sounding dubious. "So? Who is it, anyway? This girl that Neville likes so much? We should probably warn her that Neville's getting all his advice from you."
Harry frowned, willing his mind to come up with some excuse. "Err… I don't think it's my place to say."
Ron snorted. "Sure it is. We're your best friends. You have to tell us."
Harry swallowed with difficulty, trying very hard not to stare directly at the read head. "You really think so?"
"C'mon, Harry." A sudden thought seemed to strike him. "He doesn't still fancy Hermione, does he?"
Hermione looked up. "Neville… fancied… me?"
Harry began to feel even more uncomfortable. "I never mentioned that?"
"No."
"Interesting."
Ron coughed. "Yeah, very touching. He doesn't, does he?"
"Err…" Harry fumbled, vying for time. "It's… uh, he'll tell you when the time is appropriate."
"Neville fancied me?" Hermione squeaked again, looking completely bewildered.
"Yes," Harry said. "He did. Honestly, it shouldn't be that hard to believe. I mean… he has good taste, at least…"
Hermione melted. "Oh… Harry…"
"HA!" Harry said triumphantly, sending a look in Ron's direction. "See! I'm great with girls."
"He's trying to change the subject," Ron said to Hermione. "Did you notice that?"
"Ron, honestly… it's Neville's business. I admire Harry for keeping it a secret."
"Sure, sure!" Ron said with a wave of his hand. "And you're not just saying that because you're waiting to ask Harry about it later."
"Ron, really, what kind of a person do you think I am?"
"I think you're a person who knows far too much about how to get Harry Potter to tell you things he won't tell anyone else."
"That's not true. Harry tells us both everything. Right, Harry?"
Thankfully, Harry was spared having to make an answer by the arrival of the Owl Post. He was surprised when a large number of letters were dropped in front of him by owls he didn't recognize. He stared at the letters in slight suspicion, wondering what he was going to find if he were to open them.
"Ron," he said slowly. "Why am I getting so much mail?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Why do you think, Harry? Remember that article you did for the Prophet? Mail's been non-stop for you since then. We just got rid of most of it since you were too busy getting shut-eye in the hospital."
"Oh…" Harry said faintly. "And… it's all… good, right?"
Ron shifted. "That's what I was trying to say before. It's, well… some people still think that you've…"
"Joined the dark side and am now working with Voldemort?"
"Uh… yeah. That's about right, actually." Ron looked embarrassed. "It's only a few people, though."
Harry sighed and slowly pushed all his letters into a pile. "I'll throw them out, I guess."
Harry glanced in Hermione's direction, startled to find her near tears. She was clutching a letter in front of her, seemingly oblivious to all else as her eyes scanned it in mild horror. Worried, Harry reached out to her, surprised when she pulled away, scrunching the letter up in her hands.
"Oh, my," she said. "It's getting late. I have to get to class."
Harry shared a look with Ron before turning back to her, feeling concerned. "Hermione," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"
She started, as if just noticing him there for the first time. "I…" she shook her head, pushing the letter into her robes. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."
"What was in the letter?"
"Nothing," she said again firmly. "I'll see you later."
Harry reached out and grasped her wrist. "Hermione," he said quietly. "I'm not stupid. Tell me what's going on."
She chewed her lip, a small internal battle raging war on her features. Finally, she shook her head. "Nothing," she said again. "I'm running late. I'll see you later."
Feeling hurt, he let go of her, sinking back into his seat. "Fine," he muttered. "See you."
She sighed, looking hesitant. "It's really nothing," she repeated. Then, somewhat guilty, Hermione broke eye contact and hurried away. Harry turned back to Ron, who was staring at Hermione's back with a befuddled look on his face.
"What was that?" Ron asked loudly.
"Dunno," Harry answered honestly.
Ron jerked a shoulder. "Well-she did say it was nothing. Several times over in fact."
"Yeah," Harry replied, sounding unconvinced.
"Are you… worried?"
Harry blinked at him a few times. "Yeah," he said again, eyes involuntarily shifting to the spot Hermione had been only moments before.
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