Author's Note: Here it is! THE GRYFFINDORS ARE GOING DOWN!!!
SPECIAL THANKS TO EVERYONE!!!! ESPECIALLY PROFESSOR ROZ< KARLA>MC!!!
Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx
Sunday, October 26th - Late afternoon, about half-three, on the way to Gryffindor Tower…
"You hit me!"
"Yeah - I did. That was three days ago, for crying out loud. Get over it."
"You. Hit. Me."
"Yes. I. Did. Repeating yourself is not going to change my mind. I would do it again. You were being a world-class git."
"Well, the next time you get rejected in front of an entire class, let's see how you react - shall we Nonchalant Boy?"
"Waiter, can we get some whine to go with this cheese?" Ron snapped his fingers as if he were summoning someone. Pretending to listen to the imaginary waiter, Ron said, "Yes. That will be a table for one under the name of Harry's Pity Party, Day Three." Dismissing the imaginary waiter, Ron looked up the remaining four flights to stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower. It is going to be a long climb Weasley, he told himself. Switching back to talking to Harry, he griped. "For the record - I can top that - try getting shot down in front of the entire Ravenclaw common room."
"Luna said no?"
"Luna said no." Ron was dead pan in comparison to Harry's shock.
"Did she say why?" Harry asked.
"Said she already had a date, but said she was looking forward to seeing me there - sound familiar?" Ron did not turn around to look at Harry when they reached the landing and started on another run of stairs.
"Mate - I am sorry." Harry could identify with Ron's disappointment.
"Yeah, me too." Drawing a deep breath, Ron bit back what he thought about being 'let down easy'.
"I figure it can only be one of two things." Shrugging his shoulders as he breathed out, bounced back slightly. "One: we both waited until it was too late and our egos refused to let us believe that anyone else would ask our girls to the dance. Or two: it is a bloody virus going around school where girls are turning down invitations from blokes they like in lieu of mystery dates with whom the girls will not name. The first is more probable - but I have a sneaking suspicion that Snape was the one who cooked up that little nasty bug and is behind the epidemic."
"What about Dean? He's been kind of mopey lately," Harry recalled.
"Like you haven't been?" Ron pointed out.
"Haven't been what?" Harry wasn't sure what Ron was referring to.
"Mopey," Ron clarified.
"Harh, harh, Mister I-Have-A-Room-At-The-Love-Lorn-Motel-And-I-Am-Not-Checking-Out-Anytime-Soon," Harry smoothly retorted. Going back to their original topic, Harry asked, "No. Seriously, though Ron - have Ginny and Dean made up?"
Opting for the 'Snape is behind everything that goes wrong at Hogwarts because he is a greasy git and a mean-ass professor who probably never had a date in his whole life' theory, Harry put two and two together. "Assuming that you are right and Snape is behind our lack of love-lives, do you think that Snape could have somehow infected Ginny?"
"I talked to Ginny about it when she cornered me at dinner the other night. That little blighter held my dessert hostage. She threatened to feed it to Fluffy until I told her that YES, you asked Hermione to the dance in front of everyone, that YES, I really did punch you in the nose, and that YES, I really did threaten Draco and Lavender - within an inch of their lives - to keep their traps shut. Once I got my treacle tart back-"
"Ginny does not play fair - does she?" Harry smirked ruefully. Ginny could teach a successful seminar in interrogation tactics, Harry noted.
"No. She doesn't. I think it is a survival tactic she picked up from having to live with Fred and George during her formative years. Anyway," Ron continued. "I asked her about Dean. She said that as far as she was concerned, they were still a couple and still going out and that whatever problems they are having are his problems and that he should get over it even though there is nothing to get over." Scrunching up his face, Ron looked taken back, "Whatever that is supposed to mean." Switching back to the subject of their mutual room-mate, he stated, "But looking at Dean, I would say otherwise."
"Does the Gossip Mill have anything to say?" Harry asked.
"Well, Lavender has cut me off - for obvious reasons. Big loss there, I'll tell ya. I'm still mourning that blow." Ron looked anything but crushed at Lavender refusing to even give him the time of day not to mention the latest scoop. "But, according to Padma, it all started on Friday when Dean tried to make nice after the row they had at lunch. It ended up with Dean getting antsy and pressing Ginny for details about what kind of costumes Ginny had picked out for them to wear," Ron explained.
"Oh, Merlin - I forgot." Harry's eyes shot to his hairline. "We gotta dress up, don't we?"
"Yes we do, my friend." Shaking his head to clear the image of looking and smelling like his Great Aunt Tessie, Ron recounted more of what Padma had told him about the 'Drama of Dean and Ginerva', "Anyway - when Dean asked Ginny what they were wearing - Ginny told him he could dress as whatever he wanted as she already had a date for the Ball."
Harry gave a low whistle. "That's harsh "Tell me about it. A bloke's nightmare, that is."
"Think it's true?" Harry asked, hoping that Dean could be spared some dignity and not be the recipient of the consolation prize: seeing Ginny at the Ball like Ron will be seeing Luna at Ball.
"What do you think?" Ron asked rhetorically. "Dean hardly leaving the Tower all weekend is proof enough for me."
Recalling something else along the same lines, Harry asked, "Speaking of the Lovelorn and the Hopeless, have you notice Nearly Headless Neck mooning about?"
Caught unprepared at Harry's question, it was a moment before Ron registered what Harry was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I saw him with a bouquet of dead flowers in his hand and fluffing his ruff the other day like he was going on the ultimate date of his undead life." Harry said.
"Come to think of it, yeah Harry. I did see him the other day. He looked like he was talking to himself - kinda like he was practicing a speech or something. It was odd."
"Wonder what that was all about?" Harry thought out loud.
"Not sure - but by the sounds of things - it seemed like he was working on a proposal." Ron grimaced.
"A marriage proposal?" Harry needed to make sure he had heard Ron properly.
"Do you know another kind of proposal that needs practicing?" Ron asked.
Harry kept quiet. He answered Ron's question silently, yeah - I do.
The sound of padding feet had both boys looking up at the top of the staircase. Stepping aside to let three pairs of house elves pass, all six were wearing socks on their ears. Both boys looked at each other and shrugged. "Must be making a delivery," Harry guessed.
"Who knew Dobby was a fashion guru?" Ron popped both his eyebrows at the same time. It was not often he was impressed.
Laughing lightly, Harry said, "Who knew, indeed." Sobering slightly, Harry shot Ron a shallow scowl. "I still cannot believe you hit me. I have a black eye from being popped on the nose."
"Stop your whining already, will ya? It was a slightly glorified love tap and you are making it out to be the Punch of the Century." Bantering with Harry like the brother he was, Ron stopped climbing long enough to turn to Harry and give him bolstering clap on the arm. "Chin up. It looks good on you. It matches your complexion and the purple brings out your eyes."
"Flatterer," Harry good naturedly accused.
"Charmer," Ron corrected Harry.
"You don't say. What's the difference?" Rising to Ron's bait, Harry had to hear the answer to this one.
"My devastating good looks and rapier wit," Ron smoothly replied.
Groaning and rolling his eyes to the rafters, Harry conceded defeat and admitted that there was no possibility of firing off a come-back after a statement like that. "Of course - how could I been so thick."
"Your thickness? I figure it has to be genetic - it's the only way you would have survived hitting every branch when you fell from the top of the Stupid Tree. Don't understand it myself; your parents were pretty cool. But hopefully - for your kid's sakes - it will skip a generation." Ron made sure he was the epitome sympathy. "But don't worry Harry; I have learned to forgive you for your thick-headedness."
"And this is coming from a kid who is the poster child warning people of the dangers from dipping their ladles in the shallow end of the gene pool?" Harry's scoff was aimed at Ron's pure-blooded status, not Molly and Arthur who he adopted as his surrogate parents just like he adopted Ron as his brother.
"Been saving that one long?" Ron asked, raising one eyebrow at his friend, mate and brother. Chortling in approval, Ron confessed, "That is a good one. Remind me to use on Malfoy sometime."
Stepping onto the last set of stairs, Ron pulled the pin and tossed an Emotional Grenade at his mate. "Have you spoken to Hermione lately?"
Ron could hear Harry take a deep breath before he answered evasively, "Yeah."
"And?" Ron was not about to let him off that easily.
"It was about school stuff." Harry's tone was reticent, "Nothing more."
"Hate to say it Harry, but you deserve her cold shoulder." Ron was far from sympathetic.
"Don't Ron; I am really not in the mood." Harry warned.
"Well, suck it up Potter because here it comes. When are you going to learn Harry, that Hermione hates the limelight?" Ron was not going to pull any punches - every pun intended, he snickered to himself.
"I know that, Ickle Ronnekins," Harry cooed.
"I am going to let that slide, taking into account the level of your emotional distress and genetic frailty," Ron upped the patronizing level in his voice for Harry's benefit.
"Prat."
"So? Like I said before, I have yet to make Hogwarts Most Wanted." Ron shrugged off Harry's half-hearted insult. "You and Hermione are two of the most private people I know. Neither one of you will offer up anything personal unless you want to." Pausing on the landing, Ron levelled a matter-of-fact look at his friend. "You asking her to the Ball in public, on the heels of Parkinson's accusation -"
"How many times do I have to say this - I did not know we had an audience at the time." Harry interrupted Ron to defend himself, again.
"You did when you would not take 'no' for an answer, Harry." Ron's voice dropped and octave and all previous teasing were cast aside. "You do that again, Harry, and we will have more than a passing problem between us."
Harry knew better than to contradict Ron when Ron was right. Even more so, Harry used one of his 'get out of jail free card' with Ron and those were in limited supply. Ron was quick to temper and could forgive, but he was slow to forget. Harry knew that he and Ron were brothers. That means that we will stand by each other and fight with each other like brothers.
"Don't worry, Ron. If I do that again, I will punch my own lights out." Harry's easy smile belied the truth of his words.
Approaching the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing look and kept walking down the corridor. Stopping in front of a picture depicting an opera singer, her back to the corridor, holding an audience enraptured, Ron brought his hand to his chin and began to stroke it as if he was considering the workmanship of the piece. Shifting to look at the artistry from another angle effectively blocked anyone from seeing Harry taking out his wand. Pointing his wand-tip at the oil-on-canvass and tapping the ornate frame Harry said quietly, "Reveal your secrets!"
The scene in the opera house shimmered and for a moment all the colours melded together and started to re-distribute themselves. A hazy figure took the shape of a familiar, stately, plump brunette. Then the image sharpened. Giving each of them an expectant gaze, it was the Fat Lady who asked the same thing she had asked for the past seven years, "Password?"
"I got this one, Harry." Ron said.
"By all means Ron - age before beauty," Harry jibed.
"Weak, Harry. That was weak," Ron countered. Looking at the pink-clad woman, Ron whispered, "Weird Sisters."
The portrait swung open and both boys climbed through the now-revealed portal.
The Gryffindor common room was crowded. Everyone from First Year to Seventh Year was assembled. Some were playing Exploding Snap, quietly engaged in a bout Wizard's Chess or a laughing hard during a variation of "I Have Never'. Others were sitting with their textbooks, quills and parchment spread out around them as they tackled homework assignments while some of the upperclassmen helped them to understand hard-to-grasp theories. All in all, it was a cosy, warm, friendly environment steeped in what made Gryffindors, Gryffindors: loyalty, bravery and the ability to look beyond oneself and help others.
Ron poked Harry with his elbow. "What time is it?"
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry read, "About quarter of four."
"Great. We've got a few minutes then." Ron decided.
"For what?" Harry asked.
"For a little refreshment, Harry me lad," Ron quipped.
He never ceases to surprise me, Harry thought. Watching Ron walk to towards the fireplace, Harry saw him crouch over Hermione's knitting basket. It was a good-sized, deep-bowled wicker basket complete with a handle that spanned the length of the basket. Skeins of yarns in yellows, blues, greens, reds and silvers were piled on top of one another in haphazard patterns.
"Hey Ron - you mess with that and I won't stop Hermione from twisting your wand into a knot!" Harry called out to Ron.
Ron flashed a devil-may-care smirk at Harry. "She hasn't touched this thing all year. Which is why," Ron's right hand plunged into the rolls of yarn and started to rummage around. His smirk was traded for a grin as Harry saw his hand stop. Pulling his hand free, several balls of wool tumbled out of the basket and plopped silently onto the floor.
"That is the perfect hiding place for these!" Brandishing two butter beers, Ron looked extremely pleased with his cunning. Straightening out his legs and pushing himself upright, he propped his shoulder against the mantelpiece and offered one of the bottled delights to his best friend.
Accepting one of the beverages and twisting off the cap, Harry clinked his bottle to Ron's and they both made silent toasts before taking a deep pulls on the well-hidden drinks. Settling his own weight against the bricked edges of the fireplace, Harry gave credit where credit was due. "Ron, you are brilliant."
Knowing that not everyone had assembled as of yet, Harry scoped the room for one person in particular. Not seeing her helping the group of Sixth Years tackle their Astronomy star charts, Harry swallow what he had in his mouth before asking Ron, 'Okay - fair is fair - let me ask you if you have seen Hermione lately."
Swinging the hand that held his butter beer in Harry's direction, Ron was blasé. "Of course I have. Who do you think had a second supper with a certain Head Girl in her office after I ate with you on Friday?" Bringing his butter beer back to his mouth to take another swig, Ron then propped his elbow on the mantelpiece. "You should see the piles of stuff she has confiscated so far this year! Harry - it's amazing. Especially the amount of W.W.W. products; she says she sends boxes of un-opened contraband back to Fred and George on a regular basis. Apparently they had a conversation - Fred, George and Hermione - and they came to an understanding."
"Yeah - she told me about that. There is no way she can stop the stuff from coming into the school, but there really is no need to destroy it either once it is confiscated. According to her, Fred and George believe that if a student gets caught with a banned product then they were not worthy of wielding it in first place. And, since their business is still growing, having their inventory returned to them clears up space in Hermione's office and keeps the cost of goods down at W.W.W." Harry remembered asking Hermione about the S.S.o.S. lozenges he saw on her desk the previous week and being impressed with her solution.
"Well - you are going to love this one, Harry - apparently she has acquired so much merchandise that she is now making Fred and George pay for shipping the stuff back to their warehouse!" Ron laughed at Hermione getting the upper-business-hand on the twins. Sobering, Ron took a fortifying swallow of his drink before levelling his gaze at the dark-haired boy leaning against the opposite side of the fireplace. "But to answer your real question Harry, she is escorting McGonagall to the House meeting."
The sound of the password being given had everyone going quiet and looking at the door. After what happened to the Ravenclaws, every time the door opened, everyone was supposed to be on their guard as to who was coming into Gryffindor Tower.
Ron's head turned and Harry followed his line of sight. The portal door swung open again and a few Third Years came in for Ron's mandatory meeting. Everyone went back to what they were doing: laughing, playing, talking, and studying. A tell-tale thunk preceded one of the thirteen year olds from exclaiming that he has stubbed his toe on someone's trunk. Hobbling away, Harry frowned in concentration. Who would leave their trunk in the middle of the floor? Taking another swig of butter beer and then resting the bottle on the mantle, he walked over to where the younger student hurt his foot. Ron followed close behind, his fingers still wrapped around his bottle of butter beer.
"What do you make of it, Harry?" Ron peered over Harry's shoulder until he realized he didn't have too. There were three trunks spread out between the back of the common room and the stairs that led to the dormitories. Each trunk had a different label. Two were hard to read, as their labels looked like they had been left out in the rain and the ink had run to the point of making the names illegible, but one was clear: Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"Hermione," Harry breathed.
"Since when does Hermione care about Quidditch?" Ron questioned. Taking his eyes off the trunks and scanning now very crowded common room, he announced, "Ten minutes people."
"Since I suggested that our class gift to the school should be a new, professional grade, Quidditch set." Harry explained to Ron.
"Harry - that is a brilliant idea. The stuff we are playing with now will be pretty dodgy by this time next year. The Snitches will be out-dated and Beaters have to factor in the nicks in the bats every time they take a swipe at the bludgers as it is." Ron's eyes glowed with the prospect of giving Hogwarts such a great parting gift. Putting a couple of pieces together, Ron swiped Harry's arm with the backside of his free hand. "Those house elves - they were making their delivery here."
"Thanks. But it was Hermione's idea to solicit different companies. That way, we can really consider which set we want to present at the House Championship game." Running his hands along the buckles of the nearest trunk, Harry added, "Hermione thinks that if we phrase our letters of request properly, that these companies could actually donate a set rather than make the class buy it."
"That's my girl - always thinking!" Pride in having the Smartest Witch of their Age as a friend was spread from one freckled ear to the other.
Harry nodded, "Yup. She's good." Feelings of would've, could've, should've bloomed in his chest as he looked at each trunk in turn. Friday's debacle still kept true laughter off of his face and out of his voice and out of his eyes.
Taking another pull on his butter beer, all but draining the bottle Ron sensed Harry about to don his hair shirt. Clapping him on the shoulder, Ron nodded to his friend and then at the three trunks lying on the floor. "What do you say, Captain? Wanna open these babies up and see if Miss Know-It-All knows how to order Quidditch supplies?"
Snapping out of his reverie, Harry grinned at Ron, "Only if you help, Keeper."
"Done - but I think we could use another pair of hands - don't ya think?" Ron turned away from Harry and scanned the room. Spying who he was looking for sitting on the edge of a workspace on the far side of the room, Ron bellowed. "Oye! Thomas! Give a mate a hand, will ya?"
Nodding in agreement at Ron's choice, Harry never saw Ginny come up on his other side until she placed warm hand on his upper arm.
"Watcha' got there, Harry?" Ginny inquired, all interested in the trunks.
"Hey Harry," Dean said. Harry heard the drop in Dean's enthusiasm as he saw Ginny standing nearby, "Hey Ginny."
"Hey Dean," Ginny said brightly.
"By Orion's Eye, you two are acting like you hardly know each other! Enough, already, will ya? There are those of us who have to commence with some serious mischief making!" Ron's frustration was apparent despite the deflection tactic.
"Ron, you take the one at this end. Ginny, you take the one in the middle. Dean, you take the one at the far end." Harry laid out the battle plan. "On the count of three, flip up the buckles and throw back the lids - okay?"
Brother, sister and dorm-mate all nodded.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
The jangling and clanking of buckles being freed and lids being thrown open and bouncing on their hinges had more Gryffindors gathering around Harry, Ginny, Ron and Dean.
Three sets of gleaming, brand-new, top-of-the-line Quidditch equipment were revealed to everyone's murmurs of approval. As usual, Hermione had done her homework and had really gotten the crème of the Quidditch supply crop sent to the school.
"They are beautiful." Ginny breathed.
"They are so fabulous - can you imagine what a game would be like if we played with this level of equipment?" Ron was practically drooling at the sight of the bludgers, quaffles, beater bats and golden snitches that vibrated and rattled in their respective nests.
"The are so-"
Harry finished Dean's sentence.
"TAKE COVER EVERYONE - NOTHING'S TIED DOWN!"
Squealing with delight at the sight, students dove for cover. Streaking from the trunks, six bludgers lifted off and started to scream around the edges of the room. Three snitches spread their delicate golden wings and soared across the common room.
Instinctively reaching for a bat, Harry tossed one to Ginny and four other outstretched hands without looking at who belonged to said hands. Grabbing a bat for himself, his other hand grasped a quaffle and lobbed it at Ron who caught it deftly and passed it onto someone else. Lurching for another quaffle that he tossed to someone back and to his right, the last quaffle landed squarely in Ron's hands and stayed there.
The dorm was raucous scene; flying bludgers just out of reach of wildly flung bats and Gryffindors calling to one another.
"Swing to the right!"
"Duck!"
"BEHIND YOU!"
"DROP!"
"LOOK OUT!"
Fun and pandemonium ruled the Common Room.
Harry found his head whipping every which way whenever someone called out a direction. Sweat peppered his forehead and his glasses started to fog around the edges as he puffed hot breath through his teeth. Fighting the urge to go into Seeker mode and just focus on the Snitches flitting about and glinting in the afternoon sunlight that was streaming through windows, Harry swept the entire room with his Seeker eye and went into Captain Mode.
"Ginny - take the balcony! Dean, head over near the window seats." Immediately Ginny and Dean took off towards their positions; Ginny climbing the stairs two at a time and Dean inserting his muscular bulk into the far corner of the room. "Ron - Ron! - set up an end zone and protect it." Harry barked out orders as a runaway bludger whizzed by his right ear.
A high pitched shriek had him craning his neck to the balcony. It was Lavender and she was clutching onto Ginny's jumper. Just coming down the stairs out of the girls' dormitory, the bludger that had been hugging that far wall adjacent to the girls' side of the Tower was just coming about for another careening sweep. Dropping to her knees and tugging a laughing Ginny down with her, the bludger nearly missed her head as it tacked to where Neville standing slack jawed and unarmed.
Harry, who had back away from the trunks was now closer to the portal door knew he was too far away to do anything but someone else was already in motion.
Vaulting over the balcony, Ginny nimbly landed inches from where Neville stood in the path of the on-coming bludger.
"I got it!" One handed, she pushed Neville aside. Raising her other hand and Stepping up, Ginny raise her bat and gave the accelerating bludger a solid smack with her championship grade beaters' bat. Both the bat and the bludger exploded into globs and strings of sticky, slimy, seed-ridden orangey goo that coated Ginny's face and hair and showered Neville's shoulders with gooey nastiness.
Plucking a glob of orangey goop off of Ginny's head and giving it a sniff, Neville started to laugh so hard, Harry thought the lad was going to piss himself.
On the far side of the room, Seamus had his arm around Pavarti's waist and had her folded in half as he covered her back with his own. Side stepping Pavarti and Seamus, who were barrelling their way out of the path of another bludger, Dean hurried into position.
"Oh no you don't" Dean was speaking to on-coming bludger even as he was setting himself up to be in a perfect position to know the rogue ball clear across campus. "You are mine."
Ginny and Neville looked at each other just in time to see Dean square himself with the on-coming bludger. Hollering at the same time, Neville and Ginny waved their hands to try to get his attention. "Dean! No! Stop! It's-"
Drowned out by everyone one else having a grand time, Dean never heard the first part of Ginny and Neville's warning. Taking aim, Dean put all his might into connecting his bat to the zooming bludger.
A might thwack sounded across the room.
Dean hit the bludger all right - and spread the ooey, gooey goodness of-
"- PUMPKIN INNARDS!" Neville and Ginny finished their warning in a breath-stealing fit of giggles.
- in an outward spray that caught the Creevey brothers and a handful of Sixth Years, who had just gotten up off the floor when they saw Dean line up the bludger in his sights, square in the back and neck with the orangey goop.
At the same time, Harry saw Ron tuck his quaffle underneath his arm, duck, roll, and stand up. Gauging the speed and trajectory of the bludger that was closing in on him, Ron was out of evasive manoeuvres - save one. Holding up his quaffle, Harry could see Ron setting himself up for a classic deflection counter-measure. Taking a couple of stabilizing steps backward and adjusting his position, Ron kept his gaze steady of the on-coming bludger. At the last moment, Ron raised his quaffle deflected the smaller ball. That was his plan, until the bludger struck his quaffle and both balls exploded into a spectacular shower of pumpkin guts.
"GROSS!" Pushing globs of pumpkin innards off of his arm Ron was far from vexed. Along with everyone else, he loved every minute of it and it showed.
A movement behind him had Harry looking at the portal. The door swung open and Prof. McGonagall, Hermione and Draco stepped into the Gryffindor common room just in time to see a fourth year, her fingers barely touching one of the air-born snitches, get fitted for a coat of orange slimy goodness.
Somewhere in the Common Room, a voice cried out, "WE'VE BEEN PRANKED!"
Bludger Number Four was coming down from where it slipped behind one of the tapestries when it followed a group of Second Years when they tried to get away from the rogue ball. Swooping down with an audible hiss, Harry saw Hermione's eyes go wide as she pivoted on her heel and placed both her palms on McGonagall chest.
"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said hurriedly. McGonagall's eyes went wide when her Head Girl's apology preceded Hermione pushing the Deputy Headmistress out of the way of a loaded bludger that she was actually pushed out of the Tower!
Good show, Hermione, Harry thought.
A flash of blonde hair had Harry thinking two things at the same time. What is Malfoy doing here? WATCH OUT, MALFOY!
"I've got it!" Draco called as he dashed the around the backside of an arm chair as he pursued one of the two remaining snitches.
Harry inhaled sharply; the boy had gone into Seeker mode!
Turning around from having pushed McGonagall out of the way, Hermione took in the sight in front and all around her. Balls and snitches and bats were exploding left and right, leaving amazing amounts of pumpkin innards draped over furniture, Gryffindors and Gryffindors near furniture. Who ever didn't get a blast of orangey sliminess first hand, those who did made sure they spread the wealth. Her eyes going wide, Hermione saw one of the Creevey brother scoop a handful of pumpkin guts from the back of his neck and fling it at a another Gryffindor who had yet to be 'christened' with the orange goop.
To her left, a different blonde blur caught her eye. Not to be out done by Dean and Ron, Seamus launched himself onto the couch and used the springs to propel himself into the air and catch Bludger Number Four in mid air. Falling and being cushioned by the carpeted floor, the bludger blew up and caught him square in the mouth as he was in mid laugh.
Feeling her hair spin around her shoulders, Draco's shouting had her looking to her right. Hollering to the Slytherin, she cried out, "Watch out!"
There was an armchair between where she was and where she needed to be. Jumping onto and off of the armchair, it was a race to see who would get to the Head Boy first - her or the snitch. Draco's fingers just brushed the smooth golden ball when her shoulder connected to his chest and knocked him over. Unable to stop, she fell as well - landing on top of Draco - taking the full brunt of the contents compressed inside the snitch.
"Thanks Granger," Draco drawled, picking a string of pumpkin innards out of her hair and flicking it towards the wall.
"Don't mention it, Malfoy." Hermione said, meaning her words in the most literal sense.
"Granger, I guess I should thank you for the tackle as well," Draco purred, his eyes lighting up with a dangerous glint.
Ignoring Malfoy for the moment, she saw Harry still in the fray. Something clicked in Hermione's adrenaline infuse mind. The door was still ajar and there are still two bludgers in the air.
Oh, holy Morgana - McGonagall, she thought with a panic.
Sliding herself off of the lad, Hermione looked down at Draco. "Stay here." Bracing herself on her knees, about to stand, Hermione shouted, "Harry - McGonagall!"
Kicking into action, Harry hefted his bat and looked at the door that led out of the common room. McGonagall was straightening her hat and patting down her robe. It was her eyes that gave her away. She loved what was going on as much as her house was enjoying what was taking place.
A stampede of girls, shrieking with laughter and false terror were coming down the stairs as fast as they could move while still holding onto one another. Bludger Number Five was right behind them and heading for the door. Harry knew he was holding the last bat. Putting himself between the on-coming bludger and where McGonagall stood, he took a deep breath, took aim and took one for the team. Loving every minute of it, he could not help but think, this was the way Quidditch should be played - once and a while.
Bludger Number Six screamed down out from its hiding place up near the rafters and zoomed around the room. Coming up on the fireplace, it changed course and headed back toward the balcony where Lavender was still hiding and where Pavarti had retreated. Squinting through the smears of pumpkin juices that spangled his glasses, he trotted the length of the common room and stopped just shy of being underneath the balcony.
From the back of the room, Harry heard Hermione call out, "Pavarti - your wand! Use your wand!"
A slender tanned arm plucked her wand from her back pocket and pointed it at the on-coming bludger.
"Immobulis!" Pavarti cast her spell. A flash of magic jetted from her wand-tip to the beautiful leather casing of the bludger that burst immediately upon contact of magic to bludger.
A final shower of pumpkin innards fell on an already completely covered Harry.
Shaking himself like Crookshanks shook his body after coming in from the rain; Harry looked up at the two girls - who were just moments ago cowering behind the balustrade - now laughing hysterically at him. Pulling fingerfulls of goop off of his glasses so he could see who he was questioning, Harry had to ask, "You know that those were booby trapped, right?"
"Finite Incantatem!" A jet of light from the far side of the room connected with a small golden ball that chose at that moment to hover over the two giggling girls. Giggles transcended into exclaims of falsely protested dismays. Each girl was trying to shake pumpkin innards and strings of seedy orange goo onto each other as much as they were trying to get it off of themselves.
Turning his head, a great glop of goop slid off his hair and landed in the carpet underneath his feet. A small smile spread across his face. Hermione was just re-sheathing her wand, the distant light that had been in her eyes for the past few days gone.
A warm feeling pooled in Harry's chest. It unfurled and spread as he crossed the room and stood in front of the girl who had his heart.
Stopping just inches away from the pumpkin encrusted Head Girl; Harry stilled as her hands came up and pulled his glasses off of his face.
"I like you this way." She said quietly.
"Oh yeah?" Harry felt giddy and nervous at the same time. "Why is that?"
"Because it means I can do this." She said, as she wrapped her arms around his the back of his head and started to stroke the nape of his neck.
Closing his eyes and angling his head, Harry parted his lips and waited for Hermione to…
"YOU LITTLE MINX!" Harry sputtered to a wildly laughing Hermione, her hands only half full of the orange slime that was normally found inside a pumpkin. Her hands were only half full because she had smeared the other half across and into his mouth, nose and forehead - right where his glasses would have blocked - of which she had pulled off his shoulders and neck when he thought she was drawing him in for a kiss.
Dashing away, Harry and Hermione dashed away, playing chase with the rest of the dorm as McGonagall and a very amused Draco backed out of the dorm and shut the portal door.