Unofficial Portkey Archive

With Malice Aforethought

S. P. Smith

Harry only had to work his way through two cars before he came across a compartment mercifully free of other students. The fewer people he saw, the better. There was rather a lot of pointing and staring, two things Harry usually got to wait until December or so before facing. It seemed that the undesired celebrity was kicking in earlier than usual this year. Harry set Hedwig's cage on the bench and sat opposite her, looking backwards out of the window. The train rocked twice, then slowly crawled out of the station. As the platform slid away from Harry, the Express worked itself up to its' comforting side-to-side sway.

The door to the compartment squeaked open. Harry turned abruptly to see Crabbe and Goyle occupying the open doorway. They stared at him, looking more than a little lost. Harry glared at them, waiting for the slew of insults he expected. When nobody said anything, Harry looked at them more carefully. Draco Malfoy wasn't with them.

"Where's your ferret?" Harry didn't manage to put much venom into his question.

The taller, more muscular Goyle answered after a moment. "Uh, Prefect's meeting."

Harry stared for a few long seconds. Crabbe glared at him, then looked up at Goyle as if seeking direction. Finally, Harry spoke up again. "Let me guess; you always come by to bother me, so here you are. But without Malfoy, you don't really have any good insults prepared."

Crabbe smiled and nodded. He ran a ham fist over his stubbly hair. "Yeah. Got nuthin', really."

Harry's dark brows contracted over his bright green eyes. "You don't actually have to try to get a rise out of me. You could go back to your compartment and wait for the refreshment trolley to come by."

Goyle looked confused, and Crabbe gnawed at his lip. Goyle opened his mouth and closed it several times. Crabbe tapped Goyle on his shoulder, raising his nearly non-existent brows. Goyle looked like he was considering something, then shook his head thickly. They both turned back to Harry and shrugged.

Harry quirked a lopsided smile. "Okay. How about this. You could ask why I'm alone."

Goyle frowned. "Why should I care?"

Harry resisted the urge to slap himself on the head. "No, like an insult. You know, 'Where are all your friends?' You could sneer..."

Goyle nodded, grinning. Then he tried to sneer, and came up looking more like he was picking lunch out of his teeth. "Um, your friends aren't here, are they?"

"Actually we are." Goyle jumped into the compartment as a young woman's voice drifted over his shoulder. Past him and Crabbe, Harry could see Ginny Weasley leaning insolently against the opposite compartment door, wand in hand. Looking oddly threatening, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood flanked her like a bodyguard.

Harry put his fist to his mouth, struggling to hold in a laugh. "It's okay Ginny. We were just catching up."

Goyle's shoulder's sagged in relief as Ginny lowered her wand. He reached down, grabbed Crabbe by his thick shoulders and steered him out of the compartment. Harry's mirth was short lived, as the three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw bustled into the compartment. Neville and Luna bracketed Hedwig's cage, while Dean sat at the other end of the bench from him, Ginny squeezing in between them.

"Um, hi." Harry sketched a half-hearted wave. He smiled nervously.

Ginny smiled warmly, tucking her wand into the sleeve of her school robe. "Hello, Harry. And don't worry, none of us are going to take the mickey out of you."

"Although we have plenty of reason to." Neville piped up from across the way, glaring pointedly at Harry, almost as ferociously as he had at Malfoy's lost goons.

"Yes, well." Ginny tipped her head at Neville, and patted Harry's hand. "Thinking we'd abandon you to save ourselves is a mite insulting really. But honestly, Harry. We're not here to jump you, or argue with you in any way."

"You're not." Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Nope." Dean spoke up for the first time, grinning at Harry from over his girlfriend's red head. "I heard 'em talking as they went looking for you."

Neville's glare loosened. "Nah. We're just going to hang out in here. You know, some Exploding Snap, some 'how were the hols.'"

Ginny smiled warmly, and leaned into Harry's shoulder. She looked up him through lowered lashes, and Harry's mouth dried out as she dropped her voice seductively. Her words were so jarringly out of place, it took Harry several seconds to parse them. "We'll just wait 'til Hermione and my brother get their claws on you. None of us can beat them at tearing you apart."

Neville finished it up for her. "Then we all get to watch. And mock. And laugh."

"Er." Harry found his back was pressed against the glass of the window. Oddly, it was Luna who rescued him.

"Oh, the letter I received was very sweet." Luna's wide grey eyes were focused entirely on Ginny. "How often does a boy tell you he would do anything to protect you? It wasn't very bright of him, and I really don't think his penmanship is very legible, and there was a spot of what I'm fairly sure was drool on one corner, but it was a sweet gesture."

Everyone except for Luna laughed at this.

"So Harry, what did you do for summer?" Neville grinned at him.

Harry thought furiously. He didn't want to be trapped in this compartment for several hours, talking about why exactly he was trying to get into shape to fight Voldemort. He raised his eyebrows tentatively. "Um, you mean other than writing letters and drooling on them?"

Again, the compartment was filled with laughter. Again, Luna didn't join in, and Harry had the distinct impression that she was listening in to his thoughts as clearly as if he were speaking.

But Neville continued. "Well, my Gran got me a new wand. What do you think?"

There followed a period where Neville passed his wand about, and everybody examined it and muttered something appreciative. Harry mumbled something nice and fairly vague. He wasn't sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be commenting on. But Neville was clearly proud of his new wand, so everyone spent some time talking about yew versus oak, and unicorn hair versus hippogryff feathers.

The conversation veered across many topics, and everyone seemed quite content for Harry to remain mostly silent. The sun sank lower on the horizon, as the landscape flashing by sprouted boulders and gullies. At some point, Dean grew tired of hearing Ginny and Luna discussing the most recent article in the Quibbler, and turned to Harry.

"Hey mate. I guess all that's left is fixing you and Neville up, eh?" Dean smiled conspiratorially from two seats over.

"Huh." Harry was stuck trying to figure out the what exactly that sentence meant.

"You and Neville? You know, the last of the Gryffindor bachelors? Time to find you two some birds. I think Luna knows some Ravenclaws for you to, you know, say hi to."

Harry's brow furrowed, then he broke into a smile. "You mean Ron finally told Hermione he fancied her?"

"Yeah." Now it was Dean's turn to wrinkle his brow. "About six months ago, mate. Kinda behind the times... aren't... you."

Dean trailed off as Ginny poked him repeatedly. He and Harry looked across the compartment to see Neville trying to wave Dean off, shaking his head furiously. When he saw Harry looking at him, he suddenly switched to trying to swipe imaginary lint from his sleeves. Only Luna looked unperturbed.

Dean grabbed Ginny's hand to stop her from poking a hole through his chest. "Sorry, mate. I didn't know it was a secret."

Harry looked around, realization in his eyes. "I don't think it was." His gaze returned to Dean. "I was kind of... self-involved last year. I guess I kind of missed it, really."

Neville looked slightly green, and he gulped. "I know you're mad, Harry, but-"

"I'm not." Harry shook his head, still smiling. "Really, I promise. Look, that was what I was trying to write to you all about. I'd like to see all of you happy and safe. So, er, I actually am glad they admitted it."

Ginny flushed red, looking very much like Ron did when he was guilty. "But we didn't tell you. I am sorry about that."

Luna nodded. "I'm sure they planned to tell you at some point. But so much time has passed, I imagine they don't know how to bring it up anymore. I think that's why the Ministry refuses to talk about the Heliotropes."

Harry shook his head. "Er, yeah, Luna. I imagine that is why the Ministry isn't talking about Heliotropes. But I understand. I wouldn't have wanted to talk to me at the end of last year, either."

Dean tipped his head to one side, looking at Harry as though he were some new specimen in Care of Magical Creatures. "What do you mean? Seemed fine to me. And you were doing damn good in the DA, too."

Ginny looked up at her boyfriend. "Yeah, well, Harry was a little... er, intense... outside of class."

"I think Ron's phrase was 'right tosser,' Gin." Harry shrugged.

She wrinkled her nose prettily. "Ew. Not an image I needed."

"What do you... oh. Uh, I... Sorry." Harry attempted to Disillusion himself without a wand. Again, the rest of the compartment laughed, and conversation resumed.

* * *

The Express rattled into Hogsmead station as night fell, the gleaming scarlet engine and shining brass work wreathed in steam from the ancient boilers. Dozens of coach doors opened, and the mass of Hogwarts students spilled out of the train, their black robes billowing in the light fall breeze. Harry looked about the mass of students criss-crossing the platform, but didn't catch sight of either Ron or Hermione. Honestly, he wasn't really looking for Hermione; his extraordinarily tall and red-headed friend would be the person he'd be most likely to see in the middle of a crowd. At night. Blindfolded.

After several students had jostled him this way and that, Harry saw another of his distinctive looking friends parting the crowd. Hagrid's mountainous and shaggy form pressed through the much shorter students, a gaslight swinging from a pole in one giant hand. "Firs' years! Firs' years to me! Firs' years this way!"

Harry waved a hand over his head at Hagrid, and was rewarded by one of the caretaker's full-face smiles. Hagrid waved back briefly, then returned to rounding up the first year students to take them across the lake towards the castle proper. Harry shook his head as all the new students flocked towards the half-giant. Harry found it hard to believe he'd arrived here that short.

Finally, he gave up on trying to find his friends in the mass of students. Sighing heavily, he turned and headed for the carriages the older students rode to the castle. Harry had to surpress a shudder as he saw the emaciated, lizard-like, and winged horses that pulled the coaches. Fortunately, they were invisible to the other students; even if he hadn't last seen them the night his godfather had died, Harry would have been disturbed by their frankly horrible appearance.

Seamus Finnegan, a fellow Gryffindor sixth year, pulled even with Harry. Seamus was normally ginning broadly, as though perpetually amused by a joke only he heard. But tonight, he looked a little concerned as he called to Harry. "Oy, Harry! Wait up!"

Harry sighed again. He was sure this had to do with the problems he had experienced with Seamus the prior year. Instead, he was surprised when the stocky Irishman continued. "You know yer back at Hogwarts, mate?"

He had to smile at this. "Yeah. It's home to me."

Seamus gestured awkwardly. "Nah. I mean, yer back at school. Ya know, like ya can use magic 'n all, right?"

Harry stopped in front of one of the carriages to look Seamus full in the face. The lamps from the train were reflecting full off his round glasses, but his puzzled expression was easily visible. "Yes. I don't get it. Is there something I'm forgetting?"

"Naw. Just wanted to warn you." Seamus flinched, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The extremely familiar woman's voice rang out from behind Harry, and he suddenly found himself locked as stiff as a board. He couldn't turn his head at all, but he could see Seamus unplug his ears and look past him.

"Well," Seamus said as he backed away. "I thought that would be worse. Ta!"

Ron's face slid into view over Harry's right shoulder. He stood an easy head taller than Harry, and while petrified he had a hard time looking up to see his friend's face. Hermione stepped around Harry from the left. She spoke first, wand still out. "Hullo, Harry. Sorry about this."

Ron grinned guiltily. "Yeah, me too. Really." With that he hefted Harry around the waist and lugged him to the carriage. "Oy, mate! What, you carrying rocks in your pockets?"

Finally, Ron tossed Harry into the carriage. Then he and Hermione climbed aboard, and she sealed the door with a quick spell. The coach jerked into motion, and Harry tipped slightly toward the door. Ron and Hermione quickly leaned forward, and angled him so he was propped against the seat opposite them. Hermione straightened his robes, and reseated his glasses upon the bridge of his nose.

"There. All comfy?" Hermione tucked her wand away, and smiled smugly. "Good. We've got less than five minutes until we reach the castle."

Ron grinned. "Yep, and we figure locking you up solid is the only way to get you to listen to us. 'Cause I'm not going through the Feast with you being all quiet."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. This is more important than food. Harry," said earnestly. "You need to understand that we're your friends. Nothing is going to change that."

"Nope. You-Know-Who can toss off for all we care." Ron's attempt a a cavalier delivery was marred by his inability to say the word 'Voldemort.' Hermione rolled her eyes but Ron pressed on, ignoring her. "Listen mate, we can do things three ways here. One, you try to avoid us like you said you would. You hurt both our feelings by being a terrible friend, she cries a lot and I get mad. 'Course we're still your friends, and neither of us sleeps more than fifty feet from you, so you still won't be able to get away from us. Option two, you lie to us, say you'll give up on pushing us away, and try to be sneaky."

Hermione jumped in at this point. "You're terrible at being sneaky. I mean, Filtch can tell when you're lying, for heaven's sake. So if you try to run away from everyone who cares about you, you'll hurt our feelings, Ron will cry, I'll hex you, and we'll both be mad that actually lied to your best friends since you were eleven."

"Hey!" Ron looked a bit indignant at this, but he continued on smoothly. "Option three, you realize that nothing will separate us, you figure out that this summer you were a right prat, and you get to have the two best friends in the whole school at your side."

Hermione nodded, pulling her hair back and tying it at her nape. "Of course, nothing will change, since everyone already knows we're friends. It's not like avoiding you could make us any safer. So you might as well get Ron's sense of humor and my notes in History of Magic to go along with our constant presence, Harry."

Ron tugged at his ear, looking uncomfortable. "I guess... Well, what we're saying is we love you. And anyone wants to hurt our friend is going to have to get through us. And we already know you'd jump in front of arse all for us two. I mean, I wouldn't want to give that up for anything."

Hermione leaned in, her hair finally pulled back into a bushy tail. "But the real question, Harry, is would you?"

She pulled her wand out, and with a quiet "Finite Incantatem" Harry slackened and fell to the jostling floor of the carriage. He rubbed his back , eyes downcast. Finally he looked up. "I reckon not."

Hermione smiled widely, and leaned down to hug him forcefully. Ron tousled Harry's perpetually messy hair, and dragged him back up onto a seat. Hermione leaned out of the window and said, "Four minutes, thirty seconds. I told you, Ron; plenty of time."

* * *

Harry barely set foot through the heavy doors of the castle before Professor McGonagall descended upon him in a swirl of deep green robes and tartan trim. As though drawn along in her wake, Ginny Weasley followed in the vortex of the Head of Gryffindor's passing. The old witch pulled up short in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, looking down on them over her square framed glasses. "Mister Potter? I will need to see you and Miss Weasley in my office. If you would please wait there now?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance before he spoke. "Yes, Professor."

With that, Harry and Ginny trudged up the second stairwell, headed for Professor McGonagall's office. Harry turned to her, and spoke softly. "Know what this is about?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not a clue. I just hope we don't miss the whole Welcoming Feast."

Harry grunted his response; he'd done just that before, and it was never a pleasant or auspicious start to the year. Upon reaching the door to the Professor's office, Harry leaned back against it and crossed his arms, waiting. Ginny paced the corridor. Both knew it would take Professor McGonagall some time to get to them; she traditionally officiated the Sorting Ceremony at the start of every feast. Realizing this, Harry jumped slightly. "Ginny! This means you're missing the Sorting Hat's song. I'm sorry."

For her part, Ginny rolled her eyes, and cocked her head. "In the first place, could you drop the martyr routine with me, please. Just because we're here, it's not automatically your fault."

"Oh," Harry said in a small voice. "Sorry-"

"Gaah!" Ginny waved her hands in the air. "Will you stop it with the apologizing!"

"So-" Harry's arms dropped to his sides as he thought about what he was saying. "Got it. No apologizing."

Ginny nodded. "Good."

"And the second place?" Harry cocked an eyebrow, cleaning his glasses on his grey school jumper.

"Pardon?"

"My, uh, 'martyr routine?'" He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "You said that was 'in the first place,' which kind of suggests there was a second place, too."

"Oh, that." Ginny slumped against the limestone wall opposite Harry. "Yes, well, I'm not Hermione. She'd be upset to miss that manky old hat's poetry. Me, I think it's just a bit... icky."

"Ah." Harry smiled, and put his glasses back on. "Sorting Hat; icky. Got it."

Ginny cocked her head to one side, and eyed him speculatively. "Are you making some sort of list?"

Harry had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Sort of. Talking to Hermione and Ron, well, I guess I can't keep you all safe by staying away from you. So I figure, if you have to put up with me, maybe I ought to be a better friend."

Ginny looked for a moment as though she wasn't going to say anything, but then words burst out almost of their own volition. "Don't, Harry. Do me a favor, and don't try... too hard."

"What?" Harry looked stricken.

"No!" Ginny returned to pacing. "I'm not saying I don't want you as my friend. Just... don't try to be extra nice to me or anything."

Harry came off the wall with a thrust of his hips, crossing the corridor to halt Ginny in the middle of her pacing. He tipped her head up to face him, and stared at her intently, his eyes a deep shade of viridian. "I don't know what I said to upset you. And I know you told me not to do this, but I am sorry. I am. I just don't know why." The question was left unspoken.

Ginny stepped backward quickly. "You didn't say anything to upset me, Harry. Don't be ridiculous."

His voice deepened in his disbelief. "Ginny..."

She snapped back at him, "Don't do that!"

Harry started to speak, and she waved him to silence. "Fine. Okay. So here's the thing, Harry. You've always been awfully... intense. Every thing's always at full volume, every thing's all passionate commitment with you. It- It's kind of... I can deal with that if you're Ron's best friend. You can whirl in all brooding and deep, and it's fine, I suppose, if Ron and Hermione get the full brunt of it. Of you, really.

"Please don't focus on me like that, Harry. You get concerned sometimes, and I don't know how Hermione doesn't... melt... when you look at her like that. Like you're looking at me right now. Damn it, you even do it to Ron; you get so... I don't know... there. You get so there that he faces down giant spiders and steals cars just being near you. It's like Tom, sometimes. So...intense."

"Tom?" Harry stumbled. "I remind you of Voldemort..."

"No!" Ginny was flushed, even shaking slightly. Harry fancied it might be fear of him, and his chest constricted. She continued. "No, you don't remind me of him, Harry. It's just, he was intense like that. Like you. And I felt- I was really, really lost when he- when I met him. Look, I really like Dean. He's nice, he makes me laugh. He focuses on me a lot, and I like it. I like it, and I- I don't feel like I'm losing myself when he does. Do you understand?"

"No." It was Harry's turn to tremble slightly. He took up looking at a statue across the hall. "But I promise I won't focus on you."

"Harry-"

Whatever Ginny was going to say was interrupted by Professor McGonagall's arrival. She strode to the door of her office, gave it the pass phrase ("Nocis Vocis Remandant") and bustled inside. The two teens followed along behind her, and settled into the chairs facing her desk. Once everyone was situated, Professor McGonagall steepled her hands and gazed intently at the both.

"I imagine you both know what this is about." Her brogue was exceptionally thick, a sure sign she was emotionally involved.

Harry and Ginny exchanged nervous glances. He shook his head mutely, while Ginny answered with a demure, "No, ma'am."

"You two," and McGonagall paused here to give the teens an uncomfortable stare, "have left me in a terrible spot. This is an unfortunate matter, to be sure, but if you both behave maturely, I think things will work out for the best in the end."

"No!" Harry's green eyes widened in a rising panic. "Um, Professor McGonagall, you have it all wrong. I don't know what you heard in the corridor, actually I don't know what I heard, really. But I think you might have the wrong impression. Really, really the wrong impression!"

The old professor eyed him shrewdly. "I didn't think the two of you were discussing this year's Gryffindor Quidditch team."

His brows collided in confusion, and he sat back in his chair. "Quidditch?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter." The head of Gryffindor house pursed her lips to quell a rogue smile, and cocked an eyebrow at her sixth year. "What, may I ask, did you think I was talking about."

Harry's mouth hung open as he tried to formulate a response. Ginny surreptitiously trod on his toes beneath the desk and answered for him. "Oh, Quidditch. Harry wrote me a letter this summer about the team, and I think he is under the impression he's not on it this year. Professor."

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you both about." Professor McGonagall smiled tightly. "Mister Potter, I have spoken to the Headmaster, and your... unreasonable suspension from last year has been lifted. I expect you'll be pleased to see your broom has been returned to your dormitory?"

Harry smiled wistfully. "Thank you, Professor. But Gryffindor already has a seeker, and-"

Ginny forwent stepping on his toes, and brazenly cuffed him on the arm. "Prat! I'll have you know I'd rather play Chaser than Seeker, thank you for asking!"

"Miss Weasley!" McGonagall scolded her. "I'll ask you not to batter Mister Potter... unless of course you also want to try out as a Beater?"

"Um, no, Professor." Ginny flushed abashedly. "It's just-"

"Hang on a moment!" Harry interrupted, sounding upset. "I can't play on the Quidditch team!"

McGonagall fixed him with a penetrating stare. "As I said, you are no longer banned from playing. I've seen your class schedule, such as it is, and I imagine you should have plenty of free time in which to practice."

"It's just..." Harry cast around for the words to use. Sitting in his head of House's office in a plush damask armchair made the very sentiment he felt seem unreal. "With Voldemort back, ma'am, and with everything going on with the Ministry, shouldn't I be preparing? For all that, I mean."

Professor McGonagall looked as though she'd eaten something bitter. She tapped her fingers on the desktop as she thought, her bright eyes never leaving Harry's face. At last she spoke. "Did it never occur to you that hours of strenuous Quidditch practices might well serve as excellent preparation? For anything?"

Harry started to answer, but McGonagall continued. "In addition, I should not have to tell you how much the Quidditch Cup means to us all. I, and your fellow Gryffindors, would hate to hand the Cup over to Professor Snape."

"Well..." Harry looked torn.

Ginny stood, and pulled him to his feet by the sleeve of his robe. "It's all set, then. Harry's back in as Seeker and I'll move to Chaser. Thank you Professor McGonagall!"

With that, the shortest of the Weasleys turned and steered him out of the door. Once in the hall, she turned and closed the door behind them.

Harry glared at her. "Why do I have a suspicion you orchestrated that?"

"I've no idea." Ginny smiled innocently and headed off towards the Great Hall. Harry only managed to catch up to her as they reached the double doors to the hall.

Harry crossed to the Gryffindor table, and bent to catch Neville's ear. "Did anyone tell Ron and Hermione I know about them?"

Neville looked horrified. "No. Oh, I should have told them, but what with the sorting, and the feast, I-"

"Good." Harry smiled broadly. "I'm glad they don't know."

Neville looked perplexed. "Why?"

"Just because I'm happy for them," Harry smirked, "doesn't mean I can't have some fun with them first."

The look of horror returned to Neville's open face. "What are you going to do?"

"Just let anyone who wants to see the show know." Harry slid onto the bench next to Neville. "Gryffindor common room, right after the feast."

* * *

After the Welcoming Feast, the whole of Gryffindor tower seemed to be running through the common room as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped through the passage. Their classmates were still catching up, while Ginny and Colin lectured the Firsties about House rules. Harry glanced around the tapestry laden room, nearly full to bursting. He grinned, then quickly wiped the expression off his face. Putting on a look of urgency and nervousness, he caught his friends by their elbows, and pulled them towards one of the already occupied divans. Looking down and seeing all the seats occupied, Harry stopped them here as though he couldn't find a place for them to sit.

Seeing his friends' concerned faces almost drew a laugh, but Harry repressed it, and spoke urgently. "Um, Ron? After you got my letter, did you, you know... Did you ask Hermione out?"

The reaction was instant. Hermione flushed, and suddenly found the pattern of the worn Persian underfoot to be utterly fascinating. Ron blushed as well, and his mobile features went through four or five half-formed expressions as he tried to find words. His voice broke slightly. "After I got your letter? Uh, well, no, not exactly..."

"Thank God." Harry clapped a heavy hand on his friend's shoulder and sank slightly as he let out a breath. Hermione froze, then slowly looked up, eyes wide. At least half the tower slowed in their bustling, observing the drama unfolding near the fireplace.

Ron's flush, however, deepened a few shades. His dark eyes narrowed. "Thank God?"

"I'm so sorry, Ron." Harry's green eyes danced. "I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that. And I'm really glad you weren't joking when last year when you said you weren't interested in her.

Ron froze, and Hermione's head snapped over to look at him. Harry continued on, seemingly oblivious. "I know last May you said you were taking Lavender out on the sly. I don't know why I tried to change your mind."

Ron's mouth hung open, and he looked green. He was caught between staring in horror as Harry continued speaking, and looking at Hermione's ill-disguised and rapidly building fury. Harry couldn't hold himself together too much longer, so he decided to deliver the coup d' grace. He dropped his hand from Ron's shoulder, and turned to Hermione. Sweeping one of her hands up in his own, he captured her attention and pulled her towards his chest. "Hermione. I was so worried I'd be too late. Too late to tell you how much I love you. How much I've always loved you. This summer, staying away from you, it was torturous. I could sooner pluck out my still beating heart. Please, please tell me you feel some part of what I feel for you?"

Harry held his brilliant green eyes wide, trying desperately to look earnest. For her part, Hermione was absolutely transparent. She swayed wavering between horror, stark raving terror, mortification, flattered embarrassment, and utter anger. Over Harry's shoulder, Ron was less complicated. He looked ready to rescind Harry's title of 'The Boy Who Lived.'

"Gnngh." It was all Hermione could get out, and it killed Gryffindor tower. Neville, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Collin, and Dennis all disintegrated into great whooping gales of laughter. Ginny's face was redder than her hair, and she stood, shoulder's heaving, face raised, laughing so hard she was soundless. Neville was bent forward, making a great deal of noise. Dean and Seamus held each other up.

Face bright and shiny with tears, Seamus howled across the tower. "Harry-bloody-Potter! Slayer of basilisks and boyfriends!"

Ashen, Ron and Hermione turned back from the collected mirth of the occupants of their House to see Harry slumped against the couch, laughing uncontrollably. He gasped from between his tears and giggles. "I'm sorry. I know- I know- I know. I... couldn't... resist!"

Ron struggled mightily, jaw working as his face built back up to a burning pink. "A practical joke?" Finally he collapsed to the floor, slapping Harry's legs as he surrendered to laughter. "You bloody arse! You had me! I was- I was- Hah!"

Harry dragged Ron up by one long arm. Through his laughter, he got a word out. "Lavender?"

Ron grabbed Harry's throat in jest, still laughing. "Bloody funny! My girlfriend is over here planning my future as a throw rug! Ha Ha, you prat!"

Harry and Ron staggered toward the stairs to their dormitory. Harry tried to continue, pushing his glasses up so he could wipe his streaming eyes. "'Pluck out my heart!'"

"Remind me to cuff you for getting all poetry-like with Hermy. On second thought..." Ron pulled back long enough to slap the back of Harry's head, then grabbed him about the shoulders, and they made their way up the stairs.

Hermione shook herself, seeming to come back to life. She spun, bushy hair swirling about her shoulders as she shouted shakily after the pair. "That wasn't funny!"

By now, most of the other students were going back to the tasks of settling in, but a number were still laughing. Those still listening laughed even harder at this. She stamped a foot, trembling slightly. "Drat it! That wasn't funny! You two, get back here!"

The upstairs door clicked shut. Hermione called out, her voice fading. "Harry? Ron? Come here? That wasn't very bloody funny."

Finally Ginny detached herself from Dean with a kiss, and swept across the common room. She took one of Hermione's arms as Lavender took the other, and they escorted the shell-shocked Prefect upstairs to have a bit of a lie-in.

* * *

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