***
“Come on, Potter, up and at ‘em!”
Harry groaned.
“Get up, Potter!”
Harry groaned again.
“Potter, I’m warning you. Five more seconds…”
Harry rolled over and pressed his pillow into his ear.
“Four more seconds…three…two…one…. All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Harry felt the unfortunate rush of cold air envelop his legs as Ron pushed his covers away, and he contracted himself into a call. Muttering a soft curse to himself, he turned his head in what he assumed was Ron’s general direction. Opening his eyes wasn’t part of his plan at the moment. “You’re dead, Weasley.”
“And you’re here to make sure that that doesn’t happen. Come on, we’ve got practice in ten minutes.”
“Practice? Now?”
“I booked the pitch, remember?”
“No.”
“Oh. Bugger.” Harry could hear the grin in Ron’s voice. “Come on! We’ve got a Ravenclaw match in four weeks!”
“Ron, we just played a match yesterday.”
“And I want to go over it. What we did right, what we did wrong, what we did right that could have been done better.”
“You’re a maniac.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Fred and George hated morning practice more than I did.”
“I was referring to Charlie.”
“Oh.”
With much reluctance, Harry opened his eyes. Ron had wrenched open the curtains and light was pouring in, making the dormitory a much brighter place. Seamus Finnigan, however, was not looking very bright at the moment. He had just appeared beside Ron, looking fit to kill.
“Weasley?” he growled, his Irish accent thicker than ever in both tiredness and anger.
Barely biting back a grin, Ron turned. “What?”
“The next time you decide to have Quidditch practice on a Sunday morning, do us a favor, would you, and not broadcast it to the entire dormitory.”
“Here, here!” came Neville’s groggy voice from behind the curtains on his four poster, and Harry couldn’t help laughing. Seamus turned on his heel and stalked back to his bed.
“I’ve got Samantha Vance telling Ginny, and I’m leaving now to tell George, Colin, and Dennis. Get your arse out of bed and down on the pitch.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Ron strode out of the dormitory. Harry was tempted to shut the curtains and fall back asleep, but he knew Ron would kill him if he missed practice in favor of a few hours’ sleep… even if it was Sunday morning.
***
Harry nearly ran through the dark Hogwarts halls. Even the majority of the portraits were still asleep. He finally reached the Entrance Hall, however, and he pulled open the heavy oak front door. The frigid January air woke him up immediately after he stepped outside. Drawing his cloak more closely around his shoulders, Harry set off for the changing rooms. The cold ground beneath his feet crunched slightly as he walked. Harry threw his head back, his nostrils burning as the cold air rushed inside. When he reached the changing rooms, he yanked the door open, grateful to get inside. Cold stone walls greeted him, but at least it was out of the wind. Ron stood at the front, absorbed in his own thoughts and something that unfortunately resembled a Quidditch diagram. Ginny and Samantha were standing close together near one of the tables”Ginny held a jar of bluebell flames, and Samantha was warming her hands beside it.
“Hermione taught me how to do it,” Ginny mumbled, as Harry went over to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“That’s really cool,” he said. “Hey, Samantha.”
“Hi, Harry.” The pretty third year smiled at him and shifted her hands around the fire. Harry put his arm around Ginny and she laid her head down on his shoulder just as the door opened. George Billups and Colin and Dennis Creevey spilled inside, looking very windswept. Samantha took in a sharp breath, and she blushed furiously. Remembering yesterday’s encounter at the punchbowl, Harry nudged Ginny and shot a glance at Samantha and then George. She nudged him back, grinning.
“All right, everyone, now that we’re all here, let’s talk strategy for a little while.” Ron stood at the front of the changing room, very much looking the part of Quidditch captain. Harry even caught a glimmer in Ron’s eye that reminisced of Oliver Wood. A small smile came over his face as he remembered the bloke who first taught him how to play Quidditch.
“Now, yesterday’s match was great. Really great. But there are still some things we need to work on.”
Ron pulled out diagrams from behind one of the benches. Only halfway groaning along with the rest of the team”Ron would be hurt if he did and Ginny would laugh at him if he didn’t, so he met them both halfway”Harry remembered Oliver’s early morning tactical talks with less fondness than he did everything else. Dennis sat forward and sank his chin into his hand, and Colin looked ready to fall off the bench.
“Ron, it’s six thirty in the morning,” said Ginny, yawning. “Is this really necessary?”
“Is this really necessary?” Ron repeated scathingly. “Is this really necessary?” Of course it’s necessary. You don’t want to lose to Ravenclaw, do you? You don’t want to lose the Cup, do you?”
“Of course I don’t want to lose to Ravenclaw,” Ginny reasoned. “But if I’m too sleep-deprived, that’s what’s going to happen.”
George snorted. Ron glared at him.
“Arguing will get you nowhere, little one,” he said imperiously to Ginny, now acting more like older brother than Quidditch Captain. Ginny shot him a look and crossed her arms.
“Fine,” she said.
Ron launched into his tactical commentary, picking yesterday’s game apart bit by bit. Feeling himself inch closer and closer towards sleep as the talks went on, Harry shook himself and sat up straight. Ginny scooted closer and put her head on his shoulder once again. Ron pulled out another chart and spoke to Colin and Dennis about their beating game. He didn’t have much to say. It was a good choice on Ron’s part, Harry noted, to have a set of brothers as Beaters. Much like Fred and George Weasley, Colin and Dennis Creevey seemed to have a kind of sixth sense in regards to each other. Oftentimes, both in practice and during games, Harry would see one of them make a seemingly wild shot, only to have the other appear seconds later to assist.
Proudly displaying another chart, Ron went into another diatribe, this time for the Chasers, and Harry felt his eyelids drifting shut again. He had been on a Quidditch team long enough to know what he was doing wrong and what he was doing right, and he knew that yesterday hadn’t exactly been his best catch. But he had only ever lost one Quidditch match in his entire life, and if he could still have enough sense to get the Snitch even with his girlfriend on the team, Harry figured he was doing just fine.
“All right, now that that’s over with, let’s get outside.”
Harry shifted slightly to see whether or not Ginny was still awake. As he had expected, her eyes were closed and her mouth hung open. Bringing his hand up to her face, he let his fingers trail over her cheek.
“Ginny,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
She turned closer to him in her sleep and buried her head closer into his shoulder and neck. A tinge claimed his cheeks and he cast a wary glance at Ron.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ron said, showing off one of his phrases that he had learned from Hermione, “get up.” He grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled. Ginny’s eyes snapped open and she stumbled, grabbing onto Ron for support.
“You prat.” Her voice cracked with sleep, but he stood up and stretched her arms above her head. “I was deep in concentration.”
“Yeah,” said Ron. “You were concentrating on the inside of your eyelids.”
“They were very interesting.”
“Hmph.”
Ron, Harry, and Ginny walked out to the pitch with the rest of the team and immediately got into the air. The sun had come up over the grounds now, and Harry relished its warmth. It was still plenty cold out, but at least with the sun it wasn’t frigid. Ron had new drills that he wanted Colin and Dennis to run with Samantha, George, and Ginny, so Harry really had very little to do. He watched Ron release the Snitch, gave it a minute’s head start, and zoomed off after it. He caught it a few minutes later, in an area that wasn’t quite in bounds, but would nevertheless suffice.
“POTTER!” Ron bellowed from halfway down the pitch. “STAY IN BOUNDS NEXT TIME, OR ELSE!”
“OR ELSE WHAT?” Harry yelled back, then wished he hadn’t. He really didn’t want to know. Ron made a violent motion with his hand, and Harry looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen it.
He released the Snitch, this time trying to keep his eye on it before it disappeared. It seemed to realize he was doing this, however, and zoomed straight upward and out of sight. Harry circled the pitch, occasionally checking the progress of the drill. He smiled”the team was good. Colin and Dennis may not have been the strongest, but they played well off each other. George and Samantha had been extremely good finds of Ron. The two melded well together with Ginny. Harry sat back on his broom for a second, watching the three of them as they flew according to Ron’s positioning. Ginny was at the head for a second, but then fell back quickly, dropping the Quaffle to Samantha. George took Samantha’s place a second later… Harry smiled when he realized that George was having the same problem he was on the pitch. Both of them were having trouble keeping their eyes off certain girls. Harry had half a mind to joke about it with Ron”two couples on one team was rather amusing, after all”but he doubted Ron would find it funny…
“Harry, look out!”
Harry barely had time to look around before a blinding, splitting pain exploded in his left shoulder. He careened off course, whipping around in circles, completely out of control of his broom.
The world became very bright, then very dark, then slowly grew fuzzy. Objects slid in and out of focus. He recognized Ron speeding towards him, and Ginny, but his vision was starting to grey. He felt himself tilting sideways… he realized that maybe it would be a good idea to stop himself from falling, but he didn’t remember exactly how.
Hitting the ground wasn’t really as painful as it could have been. The pain in his arm suddenly seemed less intense compared to the newer, sharper pain in his leg. It was probably broken. Harry tried to touch it, realized he couldn’t move his left arm, and groaned.
Probably not a good sign.
“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”
Ron’s voice penetrated the hazy fog surrounding his brain, and Harry tried to think of something resembling an answer but could only mumble something incoherent. The ground shook as Ron landed on the ground, followed by the rest of the team. Ron said something more, but Harry didn’t fully understand. He had just registered Ginny’s worried face in front of his before the world went black.
***
“Harry.”
“I am an amazing bouncing ferret.”
“Harry.”
“No, thank you, but I don’t want a Cockroach Cluster.”
“Harry.”
“I want to go splash in the springtime rain puddles.”
“Harry, it’s January. Wake up.”
Harry opened his eyes, smiling vacantly. His head was woozy”he felt like it was detached from his body”but it was a very nice feeling. The bed was soft and his pillow was soft and the sunlight was pretty and everything was so warm and there was Ginny…
Ginny. Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. His Ginny. His pretty Ginny. She was pretty. She was nice, too.
“Hi,” he said. “You’re pretty.”
Ginny smiled and he laughed, because she had a pretty smile and he wanted her to do it again.
“You’re really pretty.”
“And you’re really pretty out of it.”
Harry didn’t understand. Out of it? He wasn’t out of it. He felt absolutely lovely. He should feel like this more often.
I’ll get the hallucinogens.
“Harry… are you okay?”
That was Ron. Ron, his best friend. Ron was nice, too.
“You’re Ron. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world.”
Ron’s eyebrows went all funny, and Harry laughed, because it looked like Ron didn’t have any eyebrows anymore, and that was funny, because people were supposed to have eyebrows.
“You don’t have eyebrows anymore,” he chortled. Ron’s eyebrows went even funnier, and Harry snorted.
“We should tell Madame Pomfrey that he’s up.”
That was Hermione! Harry laughed. This was just the best day.
“Hi!” he said. He scrutinized her face. “You’ve got eyebrows.”
And then her eyebrows went all funny, just like Ron’s had, and Harry laughed some more.
“Yes, Harry, I’ve got eyebrows.”
“You should have eyebrows. Ron doesn’t have eyebrows. He looks funny.”
“I do so have eyebrows, mate. Look.” Ron pulled back his hair and pointed, and Harry saw that his eyebrows really were there, and it wasn’t so funny anymore. He stopped laughing.
“Oh.”
“Oh, Mr. Potter, you’re up.”
Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey and wrinkled his nose.
“You’re not pretty.”
Madame Pomfrey was setting a bunch of bottles next to his bed. She was boring. He wanted to look at Ginny instead.
Ginny was blushing. She was pretty when she blushed. And her lips were moving and she was talking to Madame Pomfrey, but Harry couldn’t really understand what she was saying because she was talking rather fast. He watched her mouth instead.
She had a pretty mouth. He wanted to kiss her.
“I want to kiss you.”
Ginny blushed again. She was pretty when she blushed. But then she brought a hand up to her face, and Harry didn’t like that, because then he couldn’t see her blush anymore. He could still see her lips, though, so they would have to do.
“”so sorry, he’s really out of it””
The birds outside his window were singing a lovely tune. Harry tried to hum along.
“Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmmmmm, doo doo doo dooooooo.”
Harry heard a noise and saw Hermione turn her head into Ron’s chest, her shoulders shaking.
“Don’t cry, Hermione,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Hermione’s shoulders shook even harder. Ron’s shoulders began to shake, too.
“I’m fine,” said Harry, looking at Ginny. “I’m fine.”
“I know,” Ginny said. “We all do.” Her voice was all funny, and then her shoulders started shaking too! Harry was happy that his friends liked him so much, but they didn’t have to cry about it.
The madness.
Madame Pomfrey was the only one of them who wasn’t crying, because her shoulders weren’t shaking at all.
“In case you couldn’t tell, the painkillers have a few, ah, altering effects…”
The bed really was very warm. It was soft, too, and it made Harry feel sleepy.
“He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
The pillow was soft, too. Soft like Ginny’s hair. Harry reached out a hand so he could feel it.
“Harry, stop it.”
“But it’s shiny.”
Ginny stood up, so he couldn’t touch her hair anymore. But that was all right, because he felt lovely and warm and comfortable in his bed.
“He’ll be perfectly fine. His behavior will be a tad strange until the medicine wears off, but he’ll be back in the common room by tomorrow morning.”
“He won’t…remember any of this, will he?”
Madame Pomfrey laughed. Harry looked behind his bed to see what she was laughing at.
“No, dear, he won’t remember. At least not everything.”
She turned and left. Harry was glad. He wanted to talk to Ginny.
“She’s not as pretty as you are.”
Ginny smiled, and he smiled. She turned around to talk to Ron and Hermione.
“Hey, look away for a second, all right?”
Harry didn’t understand. Why did Ron and Hermione need to look away? There wasn’t a secret or anything”
Oh. Well, that was nice.
But while she was kissing him, her nose brushed his nose and he jumped.
“Ow!”
“What’s wrong?”
“My nose. It hurts. I think it’s broke.”
“You mean you think it’s broken.”
“No, I mean I think it’s broke. Because I broke it.”
“But Harry””
“Would you still love me with a broke nose?
Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione, then bent down close to his ear. Her breath tickled his skin, and Harry grinned.
“Darling,” she whispered. “I’d love you even if you didn’t have a nose.”
“Oh. Well that’s good.”
Laughing, she nodded. “Yeah, that’s good.” And then she kissed him again.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced when she stood up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“But Harry, it is the morning”“
“And you’ve got to take your medicine!”
But Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep.
***
Harry was walking along a long corridor. His head no longer felt woozy”he was wide awake and alert, but he found himself wishing longingly for his altered state of mind, because then he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that the last time he had a dream about a long corridor with a locked door it had ended in the death of his godfather…
A noise to his right made Harry reach for his wand, but he couldn’t feel it. Wondering why on earth he would go anywhere without his wand, Harry flattened himself against the all and headed towards the sound.
Suddenly, a flash of pain ran through his scar, and Harry gasped. He reached his hand up to press it to his forehead. Puzzled, he thought. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him”over the years, he had grown used to his forehead aching”but he hadn’t felt pain in his scar for close to a year now. Why would it suddenly start up again? And was his scar hurting him in the dream or in real life?
The same noise came again, and Harry quickly dropped his line of thought. Taking care not to make any noise with his trainers on the squeaky-clean floor, Harry took a step towards the nearest door.
“”shall do as I say.”
With a sickening thrill of recognition, Harry inched closer. He knew that voice.
“Why should I? The Dark Lord hasn’t given you any kind of special status”“
The sick feeling in his stomach churned. Harry knew this voice, too, although he wished with every living daydream that she had never come to exist…
“Will you be quiet?”
“No one is going to hear us.”
“I would have thought, Bellatrix, that many years of practicing the Dark Arts would have taught you something about subtlety. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“We can’t all be Potions professors like you, Snape. Tell me, are you still terrifying first years with your speeches on subtle fumes?”
“What I do with my students is no business of yours.”
“Careful now, Snape, it sounds like you’re talking in a trashy romance novel.”
“How dare you say things like that, you insolent little”“
“Silence.”
An unpleasant shiver ran down Harry’s spine and gooseflesh rose on his skin. He knew that voice as well… the voice that plagued his nightmares…
Cloaks rustled as Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange bowed to their abominable Lord.
“My Lord,” came Snape’s oily voice. Bellatrix’s greeting followed, and Harry could imagine what they were doing, because he had seen the way Death Eaters greeted Lord Voldemort almost two years ago, in a deserted graveyard where Cedric Diggory had died.
“Severus. I trust you have had success?”
The silence that filled the air was painful, and Harry felt hatred course through his veins. He had always hated Snape, and Snape had always hated him, and here Snape was cavorting with Voldemort in God-knows-where…
“No, my Lord.”
“You have not been successful?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Severus, you know that I do not tolerate failure.”
“Yes, my Lord. I know that.”
“And you still have failed.”
“Bellatrix refuses to help, my Lord.”
Cloaks rustled again, and Harry heard something like a whimper.
Coward. Fiend. Wretch. Disgusting, horrible, abominable--
“Bella? You will not help Severus?”
“My Lord, I”“
“I do not want to hear excuses, Bella, I haven’t the time. Your lack of cooperation sickens me.”
“My Lord, I”“
“You will do as Severus instructs, Bella, or there will be consequences so dire that you will not know which way is up. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Harry was breathing hard, trying to comprehend all he had just heard. Snape was planning something, and Bellatrix Lestrange was supposed to help him, but she didn’t want to… but what were they planning to do?
“I must leave. I have work to do. Severus, I trust Hogwarts is still in the same condition as it was when I last asked?”
“Yes, my Lord. No changes at all.”
The hatred pounded even harder in Harry’s blood. Dumbledore trusted Snape, but here he was reporting the state of Hogwarts to his unforgotten master….
“Good. Bella, come with me. We will further discuss your lack of cooperation.”
Bellatrix hesitated. “Yes, my Lord,” she finally whispered, a slight tremble in her voice. Harry barely had the time to feel a sick, savage sort of pleasure at the fact that she maybe was going to get exactly what she deserved before the door opened.
As the two figures walked through the door, Harry felt both fear and rage, but his feet were suddenly glued to the ground. His head began pounding, and the world was spinning, and he could not see anything in front of him and”
“Mr. Potter!”
Harry’s eyes snapped open. The blurred ceiling of the hospital wing greeted him. He was breathing hard, coated with sweat, and his forehead was pulsing with pain.
“Mr. Potter, are you all right?”
Harry took his eyes off the ceiling and tried to focus on Madame Pomfrey. He could just barely make out the outline of her face. She handed him his glasses, which he gratefully accepted.
“I had a bad dream.”
“You were yelling and clutching your scar.”
Trying to keep the disdain out of his voice, Harry said “Yeah, well, it’s happened before.”
“Did you see He Who Must Not Be Named?”
Her question threw what had just happened into sharp relief, and Harry realized just how much he didn’t want to answer any of it.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a bad dream. I’ll go back to sleep now, thanks.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You’re going straight to the headmaster.”
“I…” Harry stalled. He didn’t want to talk to Dumbledore. He wracked his brains, trying to coax them into waking up and thinking of a good excuse why he shouldn’t have to leave the hospital wing.
“I… don’t want to bother him. This was nothing, really. Just a bad dream. I get them all the time.”
Her expression told him that he wasn’t a very good liar, but Harry still crossed his fingers and hoped.
Finally, she sighed. “All right, Mr. Potter. Have it your way. At least let me give you a potion for a dreamless sleep to get you through the rest of the night.”
Harry nodded, and she was up and back in a flash with a familiar-looking bottle. “I trust you remember how much, Mr. Potter?”
Nodding, Harry took the bottle and sank back onto his pillows.
“Good night, then.”
She left him to take his potion, but he set it on the bedside table. He needed to think; his mind was racing. Of course the dream wasn’t nothing, but Harry didn’t particularly want to try and explain what it did mean until he had processed it all himself. Lying to Madame Pomfrey about the dream wasn’t perhaps the smartest thing he had done that day, but it certainly wasn’t the stupidest, and it really was the expected course of action. She hadn’t really believed him, and he knew that she would eventually tell Dumbledore. But for now, he had the dark and the silence. To others, they might have invited sleep, but to Harry, they invited contemplation.
Where had he been? A corridor, with a door at the end. Had it been locked? He hadn’t checked. Harry repressed a shudder”the last long corridor with a locked door he had seen had been at the Department of Mysteries. But this corridor hasn’t looked like it belonged in the Ministry at all. Harry had never seen it before.
One thing that greatly relieved Harry was the fact that he had been in the dream as a complete outsider. His scar had burned and he had searched his own pocket for his wand”there was no way that he could have seen the dream while somehow invading Voldemort’s mind. He had been alone in the corridor, and he had heard….
Instinctively, Harry’s fists clenched. Two of the people he hated most in the entire world had been sitting in that room”Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. Snape had insisted that Bellatrix help him with something... but what?
And then Voldemort had entered. Harry felt no fear, only disgust and hatred. Voldemort had been… displeased. (Although, Harry reflected, had he ever really seen Voldemort in a state other than disappointment or anger?) Whatever Snape had been ordered to do, he hadn’t done it. Snape had tried to enlist Bellatrix, but she wasn’t helping either… what could Voldemort possibly need done that would involve both Snape and Bellatrix? Why would Snape need help specifically from her? Couldn’t he have gotten help from someone else, another Death Eater?
Harry knew that if he relayed all these questions to Dumbledore, the headmaster would just counter with something like “Perhaps Professor Snape is trying to delay a particularly nasty order by enlisting the help of a witch he knows is not especially fond of him.” Even though Dumbledore wasn’t even in the hospital wing, Harry still scowled. Snape was reporting to Voldemort about the state of Hogwarts, he himself had just heard it, and nothing Dumbledore could say would convince him that Snape was trustworthy.
Bellatrix had left with Voldemort, and then… nothing. Harry shut his eyes tight, going over the dream once more in his mind. The corridor, the voices, the conversation, Voldemort, and…nothing. Once again, he was left with only questions.
It really wasn’t worth it.
Harry sat up and uncorked the bottle of sleep potion. He downed it quickly and fell back onto his pillows, not even staying awake long enough to remove his glasses.
***
Harry awoke the next morning in a foul mood. His arm and shoulder were still terribly stiff, and it hurt to walk. Most unfortunately, however, Madame Pomfrey had emerged from her office as son as he attempted to let himself out of the hospital wing and had almost thrown a conniption fit until he got back into bed. He spent the day there, scowling at the ceiling and at Madame Pomfrey whenever she brought him another one of her foul potions. Neither Ron nor Hermione showed up, even during break time, and Ginny didn’t come to visit either.
All in all, Harry had had a very bad day, and his mood reflected it as he stomped his way to Gryffindor tower at seven o’clock that evening.
“Cornish pixie,” he said to the Fat Lady when he reached the Tower’s entrance.
“As you wish, dear,” she said in a rather slurred voice. Harry heard her feeble giggle as the portrait shut.
“Harry!”
He couldn’t even summon a smile as Ginny ran forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, jumping back and raising a hand up to his shoulder. “I just broke my shoulder, Ginny, honestly, and you have to go and hit it?”
He only felt a little bit guilty about his words, and it felt good to lash out when he had spent the entire day stewing in anger. Even though Ginny’s face was mingled surprise and guilt, Harry couldn’t stop the nasty little voice that reminded him that she hadn’t even visited him once today, and she hadn’t even remembered that he hurt his shoulder.
Oh, Potter, get over yourself.
Scowling yet again, he pushed his way past Ginny. “Forget it,” he muttered, heading for the table he had left his homework on earlier.
Ginny appeared at the table a few seconds later. “Are you… all right?” she asked tentatively.
“No, I’m not all right,” Harry said in a biting voice. Ginny flinched. “I just spent the entire day alone in the hospital wing, because apparently my best friends couldn’t even come and visit me. And I guess my girlfriend was just too busy.”
Ginny flinched again and moved to place her hand on his shoulder, but Harry jerked away. “Harry,” she began in a complacent voice, “we tried to get up to the hospital wing, but”“
“But what? Your busy schedules just called you away?” Harry barely even registered what was coming out of his mouth. It had been a long time since he had been angry and sarcastic like this, but he felt a burning satisfaction to release all his frustration. The words weren’t intended for Ginny, not really, but she was the one standing in front of him and he was on too much of a roll to stop and explain.
“I guess you had more important matters to attend to. Don’t worry, I was fine up there, with Madame Pomfrey harassing me ever five seconds about my dream, not to mention my broken shoulder and leg, which still hurt, by the way”“
“You had a dream?”
Breathless, Harry stopped short. He quickly backtracked and cursed himself silently”he had not intended to go this far. Ginny’s face was worried and inquisitive, but he didn’t want to answer her question.
“No.”
She wouldn’t believe it, of course. He wouldn’t have.
You always were a rotten liar.
Ginny’s mouth formed a hard line. “But Harry, you just said”“
“Forget what I just said.”
The line of her mouth was even thinner now, and her cheeks had started to go red. “No, I won’t forget it. You had a dream, didn’t you? About Voldemort?”
A thrill of sudden, unexpected fear ran up his spine, and Harry repressed a shudder. He didn’t want her to know about the dream”not because he wanted to keep a secret, but because she had already dealt with enough Dark business, and he didn’t want her to deal with any more. It was selfish of him, really”she was one of the only parts of his life that wasn’t touched by what he had to do with Voldemort, and he intended to keep it that way.
“It’s none of your business.”
Not a smart move, not a smart move, not a smart move”
“Oh, really?” Ginny’s face was far from being worried now; she looked livid. “It’s not my business?”
Harry paused momentarily”he hadn’t considered the fact that she might get angry.
Potter, Potter, Potter. You have so much to learn.
“Ginny”“
“No. Just stop. You know, Harry, sometimes I just get really sick of you.”
“Look, Gin, I…”
“You need to stop talking. I am going to the library. She went to the next table, shut four very heavy books, and heaved them into her arms. “Try to keep your eyebrows intact while I’m gone,” she spat back at him before turning and stomping out of the common room. The portrait opened again just as she was about to exit, however, and Hermione appeared in the common room. She nearly ran into Ginny as she walked in, and the two exchanged brief words before Ginny fled. Harry scowled. His shoulder was killing him, his leg was stiff, his head was pounding, he couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid dream, and now Ginny was mad at him.
Maybe she’d be a bit more understanding if you actually told her something.
“Hello,” Hermione said as she sat down. “Are you feeling better?”
“Not really,” Harry snapped. Hermione looked at him and arched an eyebrow, and he sank a little further into his chair. He was tired of always being so immature. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I don’t mean to be an arse.”
“At least you apologized. Which I suggest you go do to Ginny.” ?
“What, apologize?”
Hermione smirked. “Well, you could compliment her on her amazing eyebrows.”
Thoroughly confused, Harry stared at her. “What is it with the eyebrows? First Ginny, now you?”
“Do you really not remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Yesterday, in the hospital wing.”
Harry thought. “I remember… Quidditch practice. I got hit in the arm… and then I… woke up in the middle of the night. I can’t remember anything else.”
Except the dream.
Unexpected nervousness his him as Harry pushed aside all thoughts of the dream. He turned to examine the small hole in his jeans. “Was I… out of it?”
”That’s one way to put it,” said Hermione, smirking again.
“What did I… say?”
“Oh, the usual. You complimented Ginny and insulted Madame Pomfrey. You laughed at Ron because you thought he didn’t have any eyebrows, and complimented me because I did.”
“Why would I think Ron doesn’t have any eyebrows?”
“Because… I don’t know. Do you really not remember any of that?”
“No.”
“You told us you were an amazing bouncing ferret, and then you said you wanted to splash in the springtime rain puddles.”
“But it’s January.”
“Exactly.” Hermione looked like she was trying not to laugh. Harry could feel a blush start at the base of his chest, and he scowled again. The scowling was quickly interrupted, however, when he registered what Hermione had said.
“Hang on. ‘Amazing bouncing ferret.’ Wasn’t that”“
“Malfoy, Moody, or I guess I should say the imposter Moody, fourth year.” Hermione put her quill down and grinned. “One of his more shining personal moments, don’t you think?”
Fully grinning now, Harry nodded. “Definitely.”
“There it is,” said Hermione, pointing at his mouth. “A smile.”
“I smile,” Harry said defiantly.
“Sure you do. Now all you need to do is go smile at Ginny. Apologize. She’s in a right state.”
“Yeah, well, I was kind of an arse to her too.”
“Well that was obvious.”
Harry stood up and brushed off his robes. “What should I say?”
Hermione looked up at him from behind a book she had already pulled out, a pained expression on her face. “Harry, I coached you before. I’m not going to do it again. Figure it out for yourself.”
Harry took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. Then, after steeling himself for what was surely going to be a very angry Ginny, he walked out of the portrait hole.
***
The halls were dimly lit and rather drafty, especially the passages used less frequently than others. Harry figured he could either have traveled the easy route to the library and be subjected to various whispers about why he was limping (even though walking was helping his leg loosen up, it still hurt to apply full pressure), or he could take the slightly longer but surely deserted path. Harry chose the latter.
The portraits along the more obscure passageways were few and far between. A small crowd of children surrounded a harried-looking Father Christmas…two middle-aged women jumped into a clear, blue lake…a Chaser tossed the Quaffle into the center hoop, the Keeper nowhere to be seen. Almost immediately after the Quidditch painting, a tapestry marked the end of the corridor. Thanks to the Marauder’s Map, however, Harry knew better”the tapestry hid the corridor leading to the library. Harry ducked behind it. The corridor was darker and colder than the main halls of the castle, but he didn’t particularly care. What he did care about, however, was proving difficult to focus on.
What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to say to Ginny? Apologizing was, of course, a given, but how was he supposed to go about that? What if he apologized and she asked “What for?” like he had heard Hermione do so many times to Ron? Would “I was a prat” be enough?
Or would she demand to know about the dream, too?
Harry shook his head and continued walking. His reasons for not wanting to tell anyone about the dream were selfish, he knew, but somehow he couldn’t make himself want to tell Ginny. He turned the corner with Ginny’s face in his mind, paying no attention to where he was putting his feet. Quite suddenly, he walked smack into a wall and stumbled backwards. He looked up, expecting to see the offending piece of stone, but instead saw a set of black robes, the sheen of blonde hair, and a prefect’s badge. Harry closed his eyes in silent horror.
Perhaps it’s not so much of a wall after all.
Draco Malfoy had recovered from his decidedly ungraceful stumble, throwing his shoulders back and tossing his head.
“Good Lord, Potter, are you such a barbarian that you don’t even look where you’re going?”
The air around them pounded with uncomfortable tension, and Harry wanted nothing more than to be done with it. He had bigger things to worry about.
Good manners dictated that he apologize and move on. Then again, ‘good manners’ reminded him of the Dursleys, and he wasn’t about to be polite to Malfoy. Harry decided on the next best course of action: walking away.
Malfoy’s indignant sputter echoed through the hallway, and Harry suppressed a snort. “You’re supposed to apologize, Potter,” Malfoy called to Harry’s back. Harry ignored him.
“I suppose you never had anyone to teach you about manners,” Malfoy continued. “Since you have no proper family.”
Hermione’s mantra”Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him”was ricocheting through his mind. Malfoy’s insults don’t mean anything. He’s a petty bastard.
“Did you like my mirror, Potter? At the Quidditch match? It’s Pansy’s. Turns out she’s actually useful for something.”
Other than being a simpering idiot.
Insults lingered on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but he swallowed them. The end of the corridor was in sight; he could see another tapestry ten feet away. Just a few seconds longer, and he’d escape Malfoy and whatever childish jabs he could think of next.
A dark chuckle echoed ominously, sending an involuntary chill down Harry’s spine.
“He’s getting stronger, you know.”
Harry stopped dead.
“Every single day. He’s gained followers. Everyone is coming back.”
Harry didn’t have to turn around”he could hear the sneer in Malfoy’s voice and clearly imagine the gruesome look of victory that must be on his face. The conversation had quickly slipped from the ignorable world of petty, childish insults that did no harm to the very real world of good and evil that shaped his future and the world around him, a world that was capable of creating the worst possible harms.
Harry’s feet cemented themselves to the ground.
“Are you scared, Potter? You should be. He wants you dead. It’s only a matter of time before”“
“Shut your mouth.”
Harry’s words were quiet, and he hadn’t bothered to turn around. Malfoy laughed again.
“Why, Potter? Are you afraid of the big, bad Dark Lord”“
“Shut your mouth or I will do it for you.”
Harry realized that standing in a deserted corridor with his back turned to a known enemy was nothing short of idiocy. Basic dueling courtesy dictated that both opponents face each other and only begin after bowing, but Harry knew that Malfoy wasn’t above cheating in any situation. Not that it really mattered”he could out-duel Malfoy in ten seconds if he was forced to”but Harry didn’t want it to go that far. They weren’t eleven years old anymore”sending sparks at each other was a thing of the past. The threat of danger was more real than it had ever been. They both knew and were capable of using spells that could cause actual damage, and much as Harry hated Malfoy, he loved staying at Hogwarts more. He wasn’t about to get expelled for giving Malfoy exactly what he deserved.
Harry raised his wand. Malfoy’s sneer faltered slightly.
“Potter, you don’t scare me”“
“Silencio.”
Malfoy’s mouth continued to move; he hadn’t even noticed what spell Harry had used. After a few seconds of speech, however, Malfoy seemed to realize that even though he was speaking, nothing was being said. His mouth shut, then opened again. A dark glower overtook his face, and Harry could see his lips form the words “You bastard,” but he didn’t care.
“Have a nice night, Malfoy,” Harry said, then turned and exited into the corridor. Then, for the second time that night, he ran straight into another person. His mouth opened automatically to apologize, but the words died in his throat as he looked up.
Snape was staring down his hooked nose at Harry, a look of utmost displeasure on his face. “Potter,” he drawled slowly. “What a most unpleasant surprise.”
Yeah, this is just dandy, isn’t it? Care for some tea?
Harry gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I didn’t see you.”
“That,” Snape sneered, “is evident.”
After a few awkward seconds, Harry cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, I’m just going to the library”“
“I see no study materials.”
Harry faltered”his bag was on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. He didn’t have so much as a quill on him. He quickly thought of an excuse.
“I was… going to pick up a book. For an essay. A Transfiguration essay.”
Snape smirked. “Potter, when will you realize that you are physically incapable of telling a believable lie?”
He’s got a point, you know.
Harry glared at Snape and pushed past him anyway. “Excuse me, sir…”
“Potter, where do you think you are going?”
Forcing himself to remain polite, Harry answered “The library, sir.”
“I think not. You are coming with me.”
Going anywhere with Snape was most definitely not on Harry’s agenda for the evening.
“Why?”
“Why, sir?”
Gritting his teeth again, Harry repeated Snape. “Why, sir?”
“We are going to see the headmaster about your…” Snape gestured with his hands, “…dream. Madame Pomfrey was most kind in telling us all about it this morning.” Snape strode toward Harry and bent down, speaking softly. “The headmaster’s office. Go.”
Harry didn’t move. He glared at Snape for all he was worth”if he wasn’t willing to talk about the dream with Dumbledore, he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it with Snape present.
Especially since he’s one of the main characters.
“I need to go to the library, sir.”
Snape’s eyes flashed. “Ten points from Gryffindor for disobeying a direct order.”
Harry stayed where he was.
“Twenty.”
Harry crossed his arms.
“Thirty.”
Harry tapped his foot.
“Forty.”
Snape’s face was red with anger. He stepped forward, teeth bared, and gripped Harry’s arm. “The headmaster’s office,” he growled in Harry’s ear. “Move. Now.”
With nothing but hatred and contempt for the pathetic waste of a man standing next to him, Harry wrenched his arm out of Snape’s grip. He cast one last, longing look at the library door before he turned and stalked down the corridor, Snape following in his wake.
***
Right Under His Nose by CathCarl
Chapter Notes: Hello, dear readers. I come bearing chapter seventeen. I know that you've all waited quite a while, and I wanted to offer a few reasons for that.
The past few months have been rather busy, including (but not limited to): international travel, East coast travel, Southwest travel, AP tests, final exams, a fall down a flight of stairs, emergency room visits, multiple hospital stays, multiple surgeries, physical therapy, occupational therapy, and graduation.
I hate to keep everyone waiting for so long, but there it is. My life has been a complete whirlwind for the past few months, and I can't see anything changing that anytime soon. I'd like to take a moment to thank all my readers and reviewers- I'm not kidding when I say you make my day. This story has made me very happy for quite a while, and I'm glad it's made some of you happy, too.
That being said... I think it's officially time to announce an indefinite hiatus. I'm starting college in less than 2 weeks, and with everything that has happened in my life in the past three months, writing just can't fit on my plate. Perhaps you'll see me around sometime, though. I just can't leave this story hanging.
I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.