Unofficial Portkey Archive

Where Does The Good Go?

By attica

"I'm two quarters and a heart down

And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds." - Fall Out Boy, Dance, Dance.

Chapter Four: The Woes of Party-Planning

Harry managed to wait up for Ron and Hermione in the common room. There was a strong fire in the hearth that warded away autumn chills and the light it provided was not as dodgy as it usually was as he continuously tended to it. He kept himself preoccupied by trying to study for Herbology, but found himself glimpsing at the clock every two minutes or so and wishing that time to move along faster.

It was almost curfew when his two friends finally stepped through the portrait hole. His eyes immediately flickered up at the sound of the noise, watching as the pair stepped into the room, deep in conversation. The golden prefect badges pinned on their robes winked boldly at him.

"Harry," said Hermione as she was the first to notice his presence. Her eyes were radiantly sparkling and her lips drew into a wide, brilliant smile. "You're still here."

"I did say I'd wait for you two," he reminded her.

Meanwhile, Ron had already plopped down next to Harry, his head lolling back against the cushion of the plush couch. "Hey, mate," he said tiredly.

"What happened?" asked Harry, his eyes cautiously shifting from Ron to Hermione.

"Oh, nothing," she said breezily. She made her way to the armchair beside them, sitting down. "It's just that we were informed we've got to plan this costume party for Halloween, and all the prefects have got to help in setting it up." Her face was glowing. Harry could tell she was very excited about it.

"Oh," said Harry. He felt a pinch of jealousy as he thought about all the time his best friends spent together in those meetings.

"It's not as brilliant as she says it is," remarked Ron. He looked weary and said it with a sharp contemptuous hint in his voice. "It's rubbish - planning and setting up the bloody Great Hall… If only it wasn't so massive…"

"Don't listen to Ronald," said Hermione brightly, dismissing his grumbling. "It'll be great. We've already sorted out the decorations and duties and everyone else is so thrilled to think about who they'll be dressing up as."

"…I hate prefect obligations. They never give us a break. It's like they don't actually expect that we have lives," Ron continued to grouse.

Hermione continued to ignore him.

"Does everyone have to dress up?" Harry asked, feeling nervous. To his utter dread, Hermione nodded. And she did it with a jolly quality as well, which only made it ten times worse.

"Yes. Oh, but don't you think it'll be fun?" Hermione asked him eagerly. "Think of all the wonderful costumes! And there's even a costume contest at the end of the party! People get awfully creative this time of year."

Despite his conflicting emotions about the Halloween costume party (he'd never had a knack for dressing up as someone else), he felt a cord of thrill thread through him as well, seeing Hermione so excited. She needed something to ease the loss of Crookshanks and he was fairly glad it occurred so timely.

"So, basically, that's when the most expensive costume wins!" Ron mocked enthusiastically. Hermione glared at him and he only snubbed her look of annoyance.

"And what are they rewarded?" inquired a curious Harry.

"Well, we haven't exactly worked that part out yet, but there's House points involved. That and another big prize. Seventy points, I think." And then she sighed distantly and dreamily. Harry could see she had high hopes for this party. He just hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed.

"Do that again and you're one step closer to becoming Loony Lovegood."

Hermione's wistful gaze turned defiant, her gaze turning to the redhead beside him. "I wish you didn't have to make fun of her all of the time. She's a very nice girl."

"I don't care. She's weird."

Hermione shook her head in disapproval. Then she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. "Well, I'm going to head up to bed. I'll see you two in the morning. G'night, Harry," she said, looking at him. "And Ron, please congratulate Seamus for me."

"Sod off, Hermione," Ron instantly snapped, his temper flaring at her mention of his Wizard's Chess loss to Seamus. Harry had to hold back a snort of laughter as he recalled what Neville had told him about their contest. He couldn't get the image of a red-faced Ron throwing the chessboard at Seamus and then furiously chucking all of the individual pieces at him as a congratulatory present.

She only gave him a mocking, innocent look before she smirked victoriously. "Good night, you two. I hope you sleep well."

She walked out of the common room, her shoes making a padded noise on the carpet before she soon disappeared up the stone spiral staircase to the girl's dormitories.

"Bloody Hermione," Ron sniped. "She thinks she's so High-and-Mighty and she can't even play Wizard's Chess."

"She's only teasing you."

In return, Ron scoffed.

"Besides, I heard you practically stoned Seamus to death after you lost."

Ron sighed, a lazy smile creeping across his face. "Yeah. Best part of my day. You should have heard him scream - even Ginny doesn't scream as girly as he does."

oooo

Halloween was just a week away, and Harry still hadn't thought of whom he'd go to the party as. Dumbledore had announced the special occasion just last week, and already almost all of the school knew what significant character they would be dressing up as. Or, in some people's case: what they'd be dressing up as. He'd overheard some Hufflepuff girl telling her friends that she'd be going as a teapot. The reason why anyone would want to go as teatime china was beyond him, but who was he to talk? He still didn't have a single clue what to dress up as.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend and the all of the other undecided students that were in his boat were going along to look for a costume. Harry was getting quite desperate - he did want to go to the costume party, but he still hadn't found anything he fancied to wear. Now only Neville shared his anxiety of finding a costume as Ron, Dean, and the rest of the Gryffindor boys he bunked with had already decided. Ron was going as his favorite Chudley Cannons player and Dean was going as his favorite West Ham United football player.

Seamus had chosen to be secretive when Harry asked him, and Hermione told him that she had an idea but wasn't so sure about it yet.

And so Hermione had agreed to accompany him to look for their costumes while Ron begrudgingly tagged along.

"Look, Ron, if you don't want to look for costumes with us, then just go away," said an irritated Hermione not-so-calmly. "You're holding us back and this is our last visit to Hogsmeade before the party."

Harry couldn't help but agree. Ron wouldn't know their pain: he had known what he had been going to be the day he found out about it and had bought his costume at a local Quidditch shop the weekend after.

Harry also found that with Ron's constant complaining and his tense desperation to just get a costume and get it over with, he was feeling quite irritable and cross.

"I'm helping Harry," he retaliated. While Harry, if asked, would have begged to differ.

"You're doing nothing but complaining about your feet and wanting to go to Honeydukes. So just leave us and go if you can't shut it. I'll help Harry." Her face was twisted into an aggravated scowl.

"Fine," Ron answered frigidly. He turned to Harry while still glaring daggers at Hermione. "Harry, good luck with Miss Twisted Knickers while I go off and have fun."

Hermione gave him another fierce look while Harry only nodded and told him that he'd see him later. Ron quickly turned and walked back towards Honeydukes.

Harry heard Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "That intolerable brute," he heard her mumble.

"Hermione, what about there?" Harry pointed up ahead to an antique-looking store with a deep purple sunshade. He could make out the gold cursive on the glass: Geraldina's Odds-N-Ends Shoppe.

"Yeah, I suppose that should do. Good eye, Harry," she complimented him, and he felt that dip in his stomach again when she turned to smile at him.

They entered the shop, instantly taking in the eccentric atmosphere of the store. It certainly was an Odds-N-Ends shop. Harry spotted a pair of bright orange trousers, half a hat with a twittering leopard feather, and magenta gloves with yellow felt teeth.

"We should have a look around before we judge anything," Harry said in an undertone, scanning the place for its shopkeeper. He had a lurking feeling in the back of his mind that someone was watching him. There were multi-colored Chinese lanterns hanging for the ceiling to light the dimly lit store and everything seemed overshadowed by everything else. He also saw tea lights floating around in the corner, emphasizing their return policy that read:

What you purchase and what you buy

Can be brought back to return in thirty days' time

But if it's wrecked, or torn, or slaughtered

Out you go because we won't bother.

He looked beside him and found an empty space where Hermione had been. Instead, the tile she had been standing on (lime-green with an image of an eye) stared back at him and winked. Harry moved on, focusing back on his objective to get a costume and not the oddness of this store.

He saw the dangling signs up ahead and headed for the Unordinary Costumes section. He peered through the shelves and mounds of things to look for Hermione, but she was nowhere to be seen. So he just moved on, thinking that she had noticed the sign as well and marched towards there.

As he passed he saw a pair of neon-pink horn-rimmed glasses that reminded him of Rita Skeeter. He also encountered a spotted mink coat that purred when he passed, a pair of tatty white gloves that waved at him before they flew off (Harry jumped when they did this, thinking that they were going to attack him) and slipped themselves onto the plastic hands of one of the displayed mannequins - making it dance and wave -, and an exploding jewelry box. He also saw two wooden marionettes snogging as he strolled by.

After seeing the peculiar commodities on sale, he finally found himself in the costumes area - which was not unlike the rest of the shop. There, he found Hermione scrutinizing a lacy red corset that looked suspiciously like a scanty piece of lingerie.

Harry blushed, an image of her wearing the corset instantly flashing through his mind.

"Hermione-"

She jumped, looking up to where he was standing. He could tell she had noticed the blush on his face that he was trying his best to hide, as she immediately pushed it away, rapidly taking the rest of the other piles of clothes and burying it underneath. "Harry," she squeaked. "I…" Her face was a hot shade of crimson. "I didn't see you there."

"Yeah," he croaked, suddenly feeling very ill at ease. He tried to shake away the mental picture of her in that corset out of his mind, knowing that it would only make him glow an even brighter red. But the fact alone that he could even imagine her in such a gaudy, revealing piece of provocative attire made him feel ashamed, incredulous… and strangely fascinated. Which only made him feel even more humiliated.

He wasn't even aware he could think of her that way. He wasn't - hadn't been aware that it was even remotely possible. Because, well, she was… Hermione.

"I was sort of preoccupied, and, er - lost."

She laughed nervously. "I know what you mean. This place is a bit… distracting."

He wanted to make his way next to her, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. He knew he wouldn't feel safe if he was still thinking these thoughts and he made to stand closely beside her.

She cleared her throat, trying to smile at him. "Well, have you found anything yet?"

Harry only looked at her. "What?"

"Your costume," she clarified. "Have you found anything you like?"

"Oh," said Harry, feeling idiotic. "No. But I've still got to look."

Hermione nodded, moving further down the row. Harry's gaze was glued to the pile of clothes she had buried the corset under. "I saw some… good ones over here," she said. Harry knew that by "good" she meant "not so strange." "I thought… Here," she said, her voice rising in volume. Harry was thrown out of his daze, centering his attention back on her. She was holding up a white outfit. "I found a cop costume."

"It looks… a bit small for me, don't you think?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked back on the garment, her eyes running up and down, studying it. "All you need is a stretching charm. An enlargement charm if it's too small."

Harry shook his head, feeling his face go back to its normal temperature again. A wave of relief passed through him, cooling his head. "No, it's all right, Hermione," he said. "Thanks anyway."

She folded the cop suit and put it back on the pile.

Harry ambled to the other side of the table bin she was already working her way through, watching Hermione as she shuffled through the rest of the costumes and each time folding them back neatly and setting them to the side. He felt a faint flutter beside his lungs as he recognized her charming, meticulous ways.

Disregarding his mixed thoughts about finding a costume and his best female friend, he busied himself and sorted through the many peculiar garments. He couldn't help but smile as he came across a loud clown outfit. He felt a button on the inseam of the sleeve, and curious, he reached in and pressed it. Intrigued and amused more than anything else, he chuckled as the green and purple stripes started to race across the whole ensemble. The ruffles on the collar and sleeve also blinked red, orange, and blue.

"A little outrageous, but it helps if you want to make a statement about yourself," commented a thoughtful Hermione across from him. "Or the society. Your pick."

Harry only grinned, setting it down. "I don't know who would buy this stuff."

"People like different things," said Hermione. "You never know. And they have some quality things."

Harry immediately looked down, trying to hide his face as that mental illustration of her in that corset paraded through his head again.

"What about this?"

Harry looked up and saw the white leotard she was holding up, feeling his face scrunch up in disgust. He saw the look on her face that told him she knew she had spoken too soon before she had actually seen or known what she was talking about. "If you want to be…" She fingered the rainbow of ribbons hanging the side of from the creamy spandex. "…An ice dancer."

"No," answered Harry. "No. No thanks."

She nodded, folding it and putting it in another pile.

"What about… Would you like to be a cowboy?"

Harry looked up and saw her putting on a brown cowboy hat on her head. It was adorned with golden sequins. He scrunched up his face again.

"A fancy cowboy?" she suggested, trying again.

Harry laughed. "No thanks, Hermione. But that hat does look adorable on you."

Harry froze, suddenly aware of what he had just said. His gaze was cemented on the bejeweled, silver satin gloves in front of him. He felt his stomach do a complete turnover.

He didn't know why he had just said what he had said. He thought it, yes, and it was the truth - but he hadn't thought of actually saying it. It had just slipped, without his consent whatsoever.

He was mortified.

Attempting to control the heat generously spreading all over his face, he gulped down hard to hydrate the desert of his mouth and looked up, both anxious and nervous to see her reaction. She had been looking at him but quickly looked away and absorbed herself in a feathery showgirl outfit that quacked like a duck.

Harry pressed his lips together, noticing the soft pink staining her cheeks.

They chose to search quietly, with Hermione piping up once every few minutes or so to show him some outfits she thought he might like.

After they had spent half and hour rummaging about the place, Harry was feeling rather weary. And hopeless. They hadn't anything here he liked. He'd seen bunny costumes (that were pink), golden trousers (that bellowed Elvis songs), festooned tiaras (that turned your hair copper-colored), and musical neckties (that wouldn't stop singing), but nothing. Nothing at all. He was feeling so desperate that he was even thinking second thoughts about that cowboy costume she had previously recommended.

"Find anything?"

Harry found Hermione standing next to him.

He sighed heavily. "No. Not a single thing." They'd gone to all of the costume stores in Hogsmeade and he didn't find a single costume he'd liked. He felt a prickle of dread when he thought of the possibility that he just might be too picky.

"Well." She sighed as well. "That's all right, Harry. We'll think of something, I'm certain of it." She turned towards him, and he found himself staring right into her brown eyes. He felt comforting heat flood through his body, making him want to shiver. "Though, it'd help if you knew what you wanted to dress up as."

His mouth was painfully dry. "I…" His voice came out cracked and coarse. "I don't know." He looked down in shame. "I'm not one when it comes to costume parties."

She nodded. Harry noticed how slender and dainty her fingers were. She was twiddling with them on a bloodied army fatigue she had folded. "That's unfortunate." Her voice had lowered into a quiet murmur and the softness of it made his ears feel pleasantly fuzzy. "But I'm sure we'll think of something. I'll try my best to help you. Maybe I can convince the Heads to allow some students to bend the rules a little."

Harry was grateful for Hermione. She always did her utmost best to try to help him. But as he thought further on it, he discovered that she had changed a bit. Barely, but enough. He didn't know how, or when, but she was more sensitive to his feelings now. She kept back her smarty remarks when he knew it was obvious how bitter his face looked. She'd never once hesitated before, because of her know-it-all and bossy nature.

It astounded him how he could recognize such a change. It seemed minor, but at the same time it was a massive deal to him.

He had also noticed that she had warmed to Luna. Harry recalled precisely that Hermione hadn't been too keen on Luna their year before. He wondered what had caused that particular change.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, really meaning it. He looked up at her. "I'd appreciate that."

She smiled, and he felt that heartening deluge of heat again. "Anytime. Now, I think we should meet Ron over by the Three Broomsticks. Maybe he's cooled off by now. Maybe not. But I have a strong feeling he's drowning himself in butterbeer in one of the booths right this moment."

"Right," agreed Harry. "Three Broomsticks."

They walked through the maze of materials with Hermione leading the way. Harry was oddly attentive to her rambling about the Apparating lessons she was soon to take.

Just then, just as they were about to leave the shelves and head straight for the door, a woman appeared in front of Hermione.

Hermione instantaneously halted, startled, and Harry bumped into her, feeling the slender mold of her body against his for a very quick second. He also caught a lovely whiff of her brown locks, the scent of vanilla and lilacs filling his nose and lightening his thoughts.

"Hullo." The woman was smiling at them. She looked like a full-sized porcelain doll with flawless pale skin, big eyes, and red lips.

Harry noticed that she was wearing bright yellow tights underneath patched, eclectic leopard robes. A distracting shade of blue was peeking out from underneath them and everything else was distracting about her as well: her shiny pleather skirt, her flashing trainers. She was wearing an old-fashioned velvet hat with a strip of lace as a veil and her bizarre light-bulb shaped earrings almost blinded him.

"H-hullo," Harry and Hermione said in unison, quite distracted by the woman's attire.

"I'm the owner. Geraldina," she said, introducing herself. Her voice was syrupy and attractive.

It didn't take much effort believing her. She certainly looked like the owner. She looked like she dressed herself with what she sold.

"I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't help overhearing that you were looking for a costume."

"Yes," said Hermione. Harry was feeling quite uncomfortable, now that the mysterious lady's eyes did not stray from him. "We are. It's a school thing."

Her almond eyes widened in fascination. "Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Hogwarts." Harry certainly admired how confident Hermione seemed. She didn't seem to think the woman standing before them was the least bit strange at all.

"Oh. Smashing. I've also noticed you didn't find anything here to your fancy," she said, looking down at their hands. Harry heard the hint of disappointment in her voice as she said this. "But I do have this catalogue that I'm certain will help you."

Harry could hear from Hermione's voice that her interest was piqued. "Oh?"

"Yes. Would you like to see it?"

Hermione nodded, and they followed the shopkeeper to the front desk. Harry unknowingly inched closer to Hermione while looking around him at all the strange trinkets she had on display. She had a striped flamingo that cracked chestnuts and a small tiger fountain that squirted water at his face. Candles were floating in random places and Harry was afraid he'd bump into one of them and catch fire.

After wiping off his glasses, Harry peered over her shoulder as she handed Hermione the book and she began to swiftly flip through it. He only glimpsed pages and pages of woman costumes.

"It's only for women, o'course, but it should do." She looked expectant, looking at them with bright eyes. "Are you pleased?"

"Yes," Hermione said, to Harry's surprise. "I'll take it."

"Excellent," the owner beamed. Her earrings seemed a bit brighter than it had been before. "Sending off for a costume is easy," she informed Hermione as she rang it up. "Just owl in your order and money, and it's sent off to you. They have a rule and it's that your ordered purchase can't arrive any later than two days after you owl off the receipt. It's real handy for last minute costume shopping." Hermione paid and she took it, punching it into her spotted cash register. She gave her back her change.

"Thank you," said Hermione mannerly, taking her bag.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," she smiled, and Harry, mystified at how she could have known her name, only remained silent as they exited the store.

They heard a jingly La Cucaracha as Hermione pulled on the door and they both stepped out, slightly trembling in their jumpers as they were back in the frosty air. She clutched the glowing yellow plastic bag beside her. It was labeled Geraldina's Odds-N-Ends Shoppe in fancy black cursive that floated about as if it was in a fish tank.

"That was… interesting," stated Harry.

"I agree. I really liked that store," she smiled merrily, and Harry looked at her in surprise and bafflement.

"Really?"

"Yes. They sold things that no one else sells. It was… different. `Interesting' is a very suiting word." She looked contemplative as they passed a group of Slytherins licking their cones that cared enough to halt their activity for a second to scowl at the pair of them. "I wonder if Luna's been there. I bet she'd love it."

"Yeah, I bet she would," said Harry. "But you didn't find anything, either?" The image of her in that corset popped up in his mind again. He was just thankful it was so cold his face was stinging and that he was too numb to actually flush again. "I mean, if you wanted to try something on, I wouldn't have minded waiting for you-"

She shook her head. "Oh, no, Harry. I'm just going to look through the catalogue. From the looks of it, I might just find something in there."

"Oh. Okay then."

They were approaching the Three Broomsticks. The streetlamps were on outside, setting an eerie glow amidst the nippy fall night sky. Eager to escape from the cold, they walked inside, letting out a shaky sigh as the warmth of the pub enveloped their bodies. They quickly scanned the place for a head of ginger hair.

Hermione tugged on his arm. "Look - there. There's Ron with Seamus and Ginny." Eyes trailing their three friends, they zigzagged their way through the crowds. Laughter filled their ears and mixed, undecipherable conversations blended against the friendly ambiance.

They finally arrived in front of their booth. Harry stood closely to Hermione as many people accidentally elbowed him, laughing boisterously and clutching their drinks.

"Hullo Ronald," greeted Hermione. "Ginny, Seamus. It's nice to see you both. Did you both have fun? I saw the pair of you crowding over by the Quidditch store."

"Well, look who it is," said Ron, before Ginny could get a word in. "Miss Why-Don't-You-Get-Lost-If-You-Can't-Be-Agonizingly-Boring-Like-Me."

"We couldn't get anything done with you complaining," she said, attempting to reason with him.

Ron appeared to be more irrational than he usually was. "That's rubbish and you know it. You only wanted time alone with Harry," Ron shot back.

Harry looked at Ron in disbelief. He'd have looked at Hermione to see her reaction, but he found himself not wanting to. He heard her answer to be calm and collected - completely unfazed.

He knew he shouldn't have been so surprised, considering the fact that she had probably already gotten used to the accusations and rumors of their relationship crossing over into something more (spread entirely by gossip columns and hokey newspapers, as well as some of their peers that weren't so well-acquainted with reality), but when Ron had mentioned Harry, something had jumped inside his bones. For Ron was the one who knew how incredibly false those rumors were more than anyone else.

"Now that's nonsense."

Seamus and Ginny were looking at both Ron and Hermione with raised brows, obviously untold of their current situation. "Look," said Seamus, starting to get up, "if you want the booth to yourselves, we can just-"

"That'd be excellent, Seamus, thank you," said Hermione, never once taking her eyes off Ron.

Looking like he didn't even want to know about their state of affairs (Harry couldn't blame him), he scooted out with his mug in his hand with Ginny following close behind.

"Bye Harry, Hermione," the young Weasley said. "I'll see you later."

"See you, Ginny," Harry absentmindedly said.

"Are you mad?" asked Hermione as she sat down across from Ron. Harry was just about to sit next to Ron, but strangely hesitated, looking at a bothered Hermione, before finally deciding and scooting in next to his sour-looking friend.

Ron ignored her. "Did you two have fun? Wait, what am I thinking - of course you didn't. You were with Hermione." He purposely dragged out her name while Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. "Hermione Granger. If you look it up in the thesaurus it means the same as: boring, bossy, dull, mind-numbingly dreary, unexciting in every possible way…."

"Oh, yeah, like you'd know anything about thesauruses," she snapped. She turned to Harry, looking annoyed. "Are we going to get some butterbeer or what?" she demanded.

Harry was taken aback by her sudden feistiness. "Sure, if you want one."

"Don't get her one, Harry," objected Ron. "Make her get one herself since she's so bloody-"

"Do you really want to finish that sentence?"

"Do you really want to ask me questions you already know the answer to?" said Ron. "Now, as I was saying: so bloody capable of doing everything in the whole sodding world. Go get one yourself if you're so super."

Hermione sighed, raising her hands to massage her temples with her fingers. "I cannot believe this… I simply cannot believe you're still acting like a git…."

"Yeah, well, some people never change," he spat venomously.

Harry was surprised at why Ron had attacked Hermione so quickly on their arrival. He also felt a bit defensive, not knowing his friend's motives for eagerly quick starting another argument. He was just glad Hermione seemed too tired to plunge her hand in and take the bait. If they continued spitting at each other like this another year, he was certain he'd grow up to be hearing them argue continuously inside his ears with no escape. Even if they weren't in the same room.

Suddenly, as he glimpsed up, he caught sight of something. He slowly looked back up, tracking his gaze, and felt his heart slightly shake, realization dawning on him. He knew why Ron had savagely pounced on Hermione like he so.

Lavender was in the booth right across the room from them. She was easy to spot. She and her new fling: the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

He comprehended exactly why Ron was feeling angry and rotten. He knew the gut-wrenching pain. He even understood why he felt like picking a fight with someone. He was angry - more than angry. He needed release. His temper was too great. But why, out of all people, did he have to take it out on Hermione? She'd done nothing wrong but be helpful to Harry in all of his horrendous costume searching.

In all honesty, he felt sorry for her. He abruptly apprehended that he had taken her for granted all this time. Dealing with a wound-up Ron drained more energy than was actually considered necessary. It was a miracle how she still had enough energy to study - but, then again, she'd always had the energy to study, no matter what the circumstance.

He felt great admiration for her swelling up inside his chest.

"Ron," said Harry cautiously, not wanting to spark his temper, "Do you want me to get you another butterbeer?"

"Yeah. Get me a whole crate. And then shatter the ends of the empty bottles and blind me." Harry had a feeling that Ron would have actually begged him to do so if he wasn't feeling so wretched.

Harry noted with great empathy that his friend almost looked as if he was about to cry. He wanted to maybe propose that the pair of them go over there and do something, maybe ask Lavender and her date to leave, but he figured that probably wasn't the best idea when Ron was already livid, brokenhearted, and not as sane as he usually was. At least, not nearly as sane.

He also had the idea of suggesting that they leave to get cones or just go to Honeydukes, but he remembered that it was too cold to get cones and Honeydukes was always full with crowds of their peers. The three of them didn't have as high a tolerance for big, tight-knit crowds like normal people. They got quite claustrophobic - especially him. He figured that being in that terrible cupboard for almost all of his life had mentally altered his psyche for worse.

With Ron's remark, though Hermione was clearly feeling quite fed up with him, she dropped her hands down and looked at Ron concernedly. She exchanged looks with Harry, and Harry pointed his gaze to behind her. Hermione slowly turned around in her seat and saw what the two boys had seen. Harry watched her body heave as she let out a weighty sigh.

She turned back to them with a grim look on her face, but her anger had seemingly vanished. Harry knew that she had fit in all of the pieces and identified Ron's reason for unjustly trying to bite off her head.

She looked at Ron with pity in her eyes. While Ron, now oblivious to his surroundings but bitterly sulking, stayed quiet and was glaring at the moisture ring Seamus's mug had left on the table.

"A round for everyone," said Hermione, looking up at Harry. "It's on me."

oooo

The week sprinted by in a vague blur.

They had mounds of homework that only existed to grow and grow, and Snape had had a Decrease Gryffindor House Points Day where he had relentlessly deducted their points with a nasty smirk as if one was on a killing spree. Of course, it didn't help that both Ron and Neville had managed to melt down their Potions table when they spilled their cauldrons either, downsizing them to a mere fifty points.

Now they were in fourth place. Slytherin was in first with a hundred twenty five points, Ravenclaw with one hundred twenty, and Hufflepuff just above them with seventy points.

"We could really use those seventy points right about now," grumbled Ron as they trekked towards Transfiguration.

"Well, if you'd propped up your cauldron like I'd told you we wouldn't even be having this problem," said Hermione, not even glancing at Ron.

"I apologize if I purposely tune out my ears whenever you start talking," Ron said back.

"Carry on with your bigotry and the whole Gryffindor House will rip out your ears for convenience altogether - it's not like you actually even use it."

"Oh, real mature," he drawled.

"Are you two like this all the time?" asked Harry. He was just grateful that Ron had cooled down ever since that Three Broomsticks incident. And Hermione, while still bantering with him, always caught herself in time before they went into a full-fledged spitting contest.

"No," answered Hermione, about the same time as Ron had said, "Yes."

Harry nodded. "Ah."

"It's complicated," she pointed out.

"It's only complicated because she makes it complicated," Ron said.

"But you're the one who starts it all the time," Harry blurted out.

Ron looked at him in disbelief. "Bloody hell, mate, whose side are you on?"

Harry blanched. Truth was: he didn't know whose side he was on. He'd always been on Ron's side because he'd always thought Hermione acted as if she was too smart for her own good… but now, things had changed. He didn't know what, or possibly how, but there was a fleeting thought that raced across his mind like a mini-racer that told him things had most definitely changed since then.

"There are no sides, we are all on Harry's side," Hermione said firmly as they neared the McGonagall's classroom. "And we will try to stop arguing."

"The more you say that doesn't mean it'll actually become true," Ron told her as they entered.

Hermione ignored him.

oooo

On the day of the Halloween party, Harry was feeling rather glum. He'd still no costume and Hermione had already tried to persuade the Heads and other prefects to excuse some students, but they had refused. Even Hermione herself had found a costume.

It was lunch when the topic had managed to pop up again. Ron was chewing noisily while talking at the same time to Seamus, alternating conversations between his two friends and Seamus and Dean, while Hermione tried to reassure Harry that he'd find a costume.

"You still have time to think of something," she told him, stirring her porridge. "They canceled all our classes after lunch so everyone could get ready - we have hours until the party."

"I've been thinking for two whole weeks, Hermione," said Harry wearily. "What makes you think I'll be able to think of something in a few hours?"

She shrugged. "You never know. Some of the best works were done last minute."

"Yeah, and who told you that?"

Hermione slyly smiled. "It's possible."

Harry sighed. "That's not likely."

"I understand it's a real downer on the spirits but you're not going to be able to think of anything if you're just moping around. Ask around - get some ideas. You're clever, Harry. Use your imagination. There are no limits to creativity - except, of course, make sure it's appropriate. We've assigned people to inspect everyone at the door to make sure it's… suitable."

"Are you two still talking about his costume?" Ron asked, throwing himself back into the conversation.

"What's it to you?" asked Hermione, though she sounded more thoughtful than anything else.

"I don't know. It's just old news," he shrugged.

"Thanks," Harry said dryly.

"Look, mate, I'll help you. Maybe… maybe you can be a Muggle!" he exclaimed. "Perfect! You're going to the party as a Muggle. It's easy and all - you've got the clothes already."

Harry thought it was a stupid idea.

"Good idea," he lied unenthusiastically.

"We'll just meet you in the common room," said Hermione. "Ron and I have to help with decorating the Great Hall. We can't get ready until afterwards."

"Yeah, it's such a drag. All they're going to do is chipper on about what they're going to wear, where they got it from, whose is the best, and act as if they didn't already tell each other our previous meetings before," carped Ron.

"That's not true," huffed Hermione.

Oddly, Harry couldn't help but feel that pang of jealousy towards Ron again. He didn't know why, but just the idea of both his friends spending time together without him made something in his stomach insistently churn.

And so Harry left with Seamus and Dean to head up to the dormitories to ready up. He tried to drown out all of the excited chatter around him but realized, with a blunt pounding in his head, that it didn't work so well.

Harry collapsed on his bed while the other boys started to talk about something amusing that had happened in one of the Ancient Runes classes. He felt exhausted. He tried to think of a costume that he could somehow just conjure up, but even when the other boys he bunked with started suggesting ideas, none seemed the least bit appealing.

He lay motionless for an hour and a half. After a bit Seamus, Dean, and Neville gave up and began to dress. His eyes were glued to the ceiling but his thoughts were just floating about in his head, like formless clusters of mist or cloud.

Ron's arrival at the dormitory snapped Harry out of his trance-like state.

"Harry, are you still not dressed?" asked Ron as he made his way to his bed, which was right beside Harry's. "Don't tell me you're still sulking around and trying to think of a costume! I thought you were going as a Muggle! We've only got an hour left. So just get dressed and hurry up, slow coach."

Harry's face drew down into a scowl. "Yeah, I suppose then." He took off his robes and rummaged through his trunk for his clean "Muggle" clothes.

"How was the Great Hall?" Harry asked, feeling curious, as he yanked out one of his shirts that had gotten stuck to the bottom.

"Boring," Ron snorted. "Hermione was the one who did everything. Strange one, you know - she's usually bossing me about like I'm her slave but today I just borrowed McNealy's toad and saw how fast it could find a peanut cluster and she didn't even notice." He tugged off his shirt and started to pull on his costume. "I've got to hand it to her, though - she really dressed up the Great Hall. With wicked spells, too. I didn't know she knew any decorating spells."

"Really?" asked Harry, now eager to see the Great Hall.

"Yeah. Impressive girl, our Hermione," Ron grinned at him, and Harry couldn't agree more.

Dean was kicking a football around by the time he and Ron were finished dressing. It was then that Seamus appeared before them in black menacing robes and a long, dark wig.

Ron scrunched up his face while Harry tried to keep back his laugh. "And who are you supposed to be? A girl? Because you're missing a body part or two - very important body parts, might I add."

"Oh, wait a second." Seamus quickly got something flesh-colored from his pocket. He then ducked his head down, his fake raven locks swaying towards the floor, fixing it to the middle of his face. When he finally put down his hands and straightened, Harry and Ron burst out in peals of laughter.

Seamus was wearing a gigantic hooked nose. He puffed out his chest, flicking his long hair. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" he bellowed in an uncanny mockery of Severus Snape.

And Neville, who was two beds away, jumped.

oooo

Seamus and Dean left before Harry and Ron, eager to show off their costumes especially after Seamus had pretended to be a stripper whilst still acting like their loathed professor. He had even said the most dastardly, naughty things in the best Snape drawl he could muster, and all of them had been brought down to their knees in tears.

Ron and Harry made their way down the spiral staircase, Ron's orange Chudley Cannons robes making Harry feel quite envious. There was no denying he felt pathetic dressing up as a Muggle.

They were crossing the common room when a flushed Hermione scrambled out of the portrait hole. She spotted them with already bright eyes that were noticeably shining with happiness.

Harry felt his throat quickly dry out at the sight of her rosy cheeks and sparkling brown eyes.

"Are you only just coming back?" gaped Ron, surprised. "The party starts in twenty minutes!"

She was out of breath. "Yes. I made some changes. Oh, I really do hope you'll like it - the Great Hall looks fantastic. You'll be blown away." She was talking excitedly, her gaze flickering from Ron to Harry every short second.

Ron seemed unaffected by her glee. "Well, hurry up and get dressed. We'll wait for you."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "You two go ahead to the Great Hall. I'll meet you there. Smashing costumes, by the way."

Then she hurried past them to the dormitories with Harry staring after her, feeling slightly woozy. He was convinced she'd have skipped her way there if they weren't still here.

"Well, you heard the girl," said Ron. "Let's go."

Harry recovered from his momentary dizziness. "Right."

And they crossed the common room and out the portrait hole, eagerly anticipating their Halloween night.

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