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Chapter Text

     A thick layer of mist coats the mirror in the boy’s bathroom. With a wet squeak a finger draws a witch’s hat and glasses in the condensation, approximately over the outline of a head. 

     “... Those Bulgarians won’t know what hit them,” The voice is confident and practised, as if the speaker is participating in an interview. “They think they hold all the cards, but they’re not prepared for my special ambush manoeuvre. No, of course I am not scared. I am the greatest Quidditch seeker in the world!”

     The rest of the condensation is wiped off with a draping red sleeve. Revealing a teen-age boy with wild hair and round glasses hanging askance on a slightly crooked nose. The boy's eyes are a truly vivid green, and his resting face involves the slightest upturning of one corner of his lips. 

     It is the most recognizable face the world over.  

     “Harry! The celebration has already started, they’re parading Ron around as if somehow he personally won the game.” The voice draws him out of his reverie.

     “Coming, Hermione.” Harry calls in return, looking back at the mirror, sparing a moment in a vain attempt to flatten his wild hair. 

     “If I have to stay all alone in that room a moment longer hearing them all chant ‘Weasley! Weasley!’ I am going to scream.”

     “Look, I’m here.” Harry rushes out and meets up with Hermione, and they walk together to the celebration in the Gryffindor common room. 

     As soon as the portrait swings open they are blasted by shouts and chanting. In the middle of the common room Ron is being paraded around on shoulders, arms raised in the air triumphantly. 

     “See what I- Oh!” 

     Harry quickly turns to see what has surprised his friend, his attention having veered off to the buffet along the wall, more specifically the miniature lemon tarts on the table. He sees Ron on people’s shoulders as before, and if anything the cheering has become louder. Then he sees that Ron is not alone on shoulders, and seems to be passionately snogging a blonde girl. It is clearly what had startled Hermione.

     But when Harry turns to speak to her, perhaps to ask her what the matter is, he catches the edge of black robes disappearing out of the portrait and no sign of Hermione. 

     Pushing past a few partygoers that have started to cluster around him too, he rushes out the portrait hole as well. 

     He found Hermione easily, she sat in the corner of a classroom, a small army of little golden birds circling her head. 

     “Hermione?”

     She looked up briefly, but didn’t say anything.

     “Those are pretty impressive,” He couldn’t help thinking aloud, looking up at the birds as he got closer.

     “I’m just practising.” Her voice held tears at the verge of breaking out.

     Harry gulped, any hope that she hadn’t run out of the party because Ron was kissing a girl promptly crushed. Slowly he sat down a respectful distance away from her on the teacher’s desk.

     “Ron seemed to be enjoying himself at the party.” Hermione said after a long moment of silence that Harry couldn’t think of anything to fill. 

     “Er… Was he?”

     “Don’t try to pretend like you didn’t see it. He wasn’t exactly being discreet.” 

     Harry struggled to come up with a good response to that, a horrible realisation was cementing itself in his mind and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. 

     Just then the door burst open, revealing Ron and the other girl hand in hand.

     “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this room was already taken.” Ron halted at the doorway, his expression slightly confused as he looked between Harry and Hermione. “Me and… um… Lavender can just go.”

     “Lavender, as in Lavender Brown?” Harry couldn’t help interrupting. 

     An unreadable expression passed across Ron’s face for the briefest of instants.

     “Er…”

     “Get out! Both of you!” Hermione yelled, coming between Harry and Ron, the golden birds speeding towards the red-head. 

     Ron did not seem to need to be told twice, and he was out of there in an instant. 

     “What was that about? I thought Lavender was-”

     “You too!” Hermione turned her glare on him and Harry did not want to be chased by birds as well, and shut the door quickly behind him, his confusion momentarily forgotten. 

     Harry was halfway back to the Gryffindor common room when he turned down a different halfway instead. He did not much want to return to the party, and it would be impossible to go to sleep with it still in full force. He needed something to take his mind off of the drama with his two best friends. 

     The Quidditch pitch had gone dark by now, but the moon was bright and it was easy enough for Harry to see. 

     He pulled a random broom out of the cupboard, his own broom was safely in his room, so he decided to use one of the school brooms instead. It brought back memories of when he’d been a lot younger and had accidentally flown in on Snape and Quirrell arguing in the forest. 

     Mounting the broom he kicked off, ready to be flying in the clean night air. Instead he landed face first in the mud. 

     Slowly picking himself up and thanking fortune that he could still see out of his glasses, he examined the broom. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. It was rather shabby and a couple of the twigs were bent at odd angles, but there was nothing that should have made it unable to fly. 

     He tried again, this time more carefully, but the broom would not become airborne. Harry even tried talking to it gently –then more sternly as time passed– but it remained resolutely unmagical. 

     “Perhaps I accidentally grabbed a broom people actually use for sweeping?” He suggested uncertainly to the empty night. The night gave no response.

     Broom in hand, he made his way back to the school, pondering the mystery. 

     He was halfway up the stairs into the castle when the night silence was broken by the crunching of glass under his shoe. 

     Stooping, he saw the glass came from a large metal device, vaguely reminiscent of a humongous light fixture. 

     “Lumos.”

     His wand shed enough light that he was able to analyse the contraption in more detail. Sure enough, it appeared to be a giant light, but from where or to what purpose it served Harry could not guess. 

     “Oi! You there! Students shouldn’t be out after dark!” Filch's voice was unmistakable, causing Harry to instinctively step back and extinguish his wand. 

     But just before the light vanished, Harry was sure he saw a tag on the metal. The tag had only one word on it, and the word filled him with a sick plummet in his heart and gut. The world was:

              Sirius

Chapter Text

     Harry Potter wanders through Hogwarts castle, vaguely on his way to the library, paying special attention to avoid the hoards of girls that wait around the mistletoe like sharks at an estuary. 

     He wishes he didn’t have to avoid all the main hallways, but at the same time it is almost nicer this way, just himself and the dark empty secret passages of the school. In times like this he doesn’t have to be the “Chosen One”, he can just be himself. 

     But all secluded passages must come to an end, and he is just about to push his way past the fluffy armchair into the library when something catches his eye down a side passage. 

     Intrigued, he turns that way instead. 

     After a few loops in the walls of the school and a couple complete circles he is almost sure he imagined the movement. Just then he hears footsteps. 

     Glancing around the final corner, he sees a familiar platinum blond head bobbing furtively along an abandoned hallway. It would be so easy to turn around and meet up with Hermione in the library, but he can’t help wondering what Malfoy is up to. 

     On near-silent feet he follows. 

     Now that he sees Malfoy it isn’t hard to follow him. The other boy was moving slowly, and didn’t seem to know he was being followed. 

     Presently Harry realises Malfoy is listing to one side ever so slightly, steps uneven, every now and then brushing a hand against the wall for support. Come to think of it, he doesn’t look very good in general. His hair unkempt and having a certain faded quality to it, his left hand shaking with a slight tremor, and prominent bags under his eyes. 

     As Harry watches, Malfoy stumbles over a slightly uneven cobblestone, losing his footing, and begins to fall. Before Harry has a chance to question himself, he has caught Malfoy by the arm and is hoisting him bodily to his feet. Absentmindedly he notices that Malfoy smells vaguely of spiced apples, and more concerningly that he weighs barely anything. 

     Malfoy sways slightly, his grip feeble on Harry’s arm, before he regaines his balance. “I am so sorry. Thank-” Malfoy is turned towards Harry, a sheepish expression on his face, before it is almost instantly replaced by wide-eyed horror. “Harry. Fuck. Shit.” With sudden strength Malfoy wrenches himself out of Harry’s grasp and nearly falls again in his haste to get away, moving with unexpected speed down the hall and around a corner. 

     Harry is so surprised that he can't do anything for a few long moments. Trying to figure out what “Fuck” and “Shit” meant and what villainous things Malfoy might have been up to for him to run away so fast, too distracted to register that Malfoy had used his first name. 

     By the time Harry recoveres himself enough to attempt to follow Malfoy, the Slytherin boy is long gone. Which leaves only one other place to go. 

     He dashes back down the secret passage, past the armchair, and straight into the library, looking around frantically for Hermione. 

     “Hermione! You will not believe what I just saw!”

     “Harry? Is that you? I thought we were trying to keep the fact that you own an invisibility cloak hidden.” Hermione looks sternly just left of Harry’s head, her arms crossed. 

     “Oh, right, sorry.” Harry removes his cloak quickly and stuffs it in his pocket. “Anyway, I saw Malfoy creeping around a completely deserted corridor. He looks awful, like he isn’t getting nearly enough sleep.” Harry proceeds to describe Malfoy’s appearance and movement to Hermione in great detail. 

     She raises an eyebrow. “I am well aware of what Malfoy looks like, and it isn’t illegal to walk around school. I wouldn’t think too much of-”

     “No, you don’t understand. He was looking really shifty. I think he’s plotting something. Something evil and nefarious. It is the only explanation that makes sense.”

     Hermione stares at him for a moment, as if dumbstruck. “Harry, I don’t like him any more than you. But just because his father is a Death Eater doesn’t mean Malfoy has some villainous agenda. We should be worrying about You-Know-Who and getting good grades, not our fellow classmates.” She punctuates her statement with a heavy sigh.

     “Of course. He must be doing something for Voldemort. I bet he’s a Death Eater now too. Perhaps he’s here to take the school down from the inside!” 

     “Well, I think that is a silly idea. If you want to worry about fellow students, maybe you can finally ask someone out to the Slug Party. I am tired of your fanclub hanging around.” She looks meaningfully at the gaggle of girls a few bookshelves away. “I heard Romilda Vane plotting to use love potions.”

     Harry looks at her, horrified. “And you didn’t stop her?”

     “Plotting isn’t a crime, and I had no evidence.”

     “Seriously?”

     “Look, just ask someone out soon, for all our sakes. And I dunno, but perhaps you might even grow to like her.”

     “Who would I even ask?”

     Another trademarked Hermione sigh. “It isn’t my job to set you up with someone. I have already decided who I’m going with. It’s only you and Ginny that don’t have a date yet, as far as I know everyone else has already figured it out.”

     “Fine, I’ll find someone on my own. Hang on, who are you going with?”

     “A lady never tells.” With that Hermione briskly leaves, shooting a glare at the giggling fanclub as she does. 

     Harry is left alone –or as alone as he can be– with his thoughts. 

     Part of him wishes Cho Chang was still at school, it would save the stress of having to ask someone new that he doesn’t even know. But then he remembers his first and last date with her, and feels awkward about all her tears regarding Cedric. 

     They shared a grand total of one kiss, also full of tears. Then her parents pulled her out of school following Umbridge’s reign and he hadn’t seen her since. Apparently she’d moved to the Americas in hopes of avoiding Voldemort’s reign of terror. 

     Harry hopes she is happy. 

     “Hiya, Harry.” Ginny Weasley walks past and waves, Luna Lovegood at her shoulder. 

     “Hi, Ginny, Luna.” He smiles, remembering days in the Room of Requirement spent training the DA. “What’s up?”

     “A word used to describe something that is in a position of higher elevation in regards to something else.” 

     “Not much. What about you?”

     Both girls spoke at almost the same time. 

     “Oh, that’s nice. Not much either” Harry gives them a friendly smile and continues on his way. It takes a few more steps before Harry gets a sudden brilliant idea. “Hey, wait!” Turning around he runs to catch up to the two of them. 

     “Yes, Harry, what is it?” Ginny brushes a sleek red curtain of hair behind one ear as she turns towards him. 

     “Sorry, but I just wanted to ask Luna something.” He shrugs his shoulders apologetically.

     Ginny seems thrown off balance for a moment, before nodding pleasantly and going on her way. “Of course. I’ll be on my way then.”

     Harry nods as well, before turning his full attention on Luna. For a moment he worries he still has his invisibility cloak on as she seems to be staring at his ear instead of his eyes. Eventually he breaks the silence. “I was wondering if you would like to go to Slughorn’s party with me. As friends, of course.” His words are all in one breath.

     Luna blinks her lambent eyes once and says, “To Slughorn’s party?” For a moment Harry thinks she will say no, then she beams more than Harry would have thought possible. “I would love to go as friends. No one has ever asked me to go to a party with them before.”

     “Wonderful, then let’s meet at eight-”

     “Aha! Potty asked Loony to the party! Potty loves Loony! Ooooh~” Peeves flies cackling down the passage, chanting with gusto. 

Chapter Text

     “Harry, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment.” 

     I turn, curious as to what he might want. “Sure.”

     “Okay, well, I never properly thanked you for the clue about the dragon.” He brushs pale brown locks out of his eyes, a soft shy smile on his lips. “So, um… The prefect’s baths are really nice, perhaps you should bring the egg there, mull things over in the hot water, and… and see what happens…”

     There is an odd thundering in my ears, like the stormy wind at a Quidditch game. And I could have swore Cedric’s cheeks were dusted by the softest hint of pink. 

     “Yes! I mean, sure, that sounds like a wonderful idea.” I am not sure what this feeling is, I know of no way to describe it. My heart is like a golden snitch in my chest, and if I could just catch it maybe I would be able to understand this feeling. 

     “It’s usually pretty empty on Saturday evenings.” Cedric adds, leaning forward, his voice a breathless whisper. “Though, of course, it’s just a suggestion.”

     “No, I mean yes. Or I mean… Thank you for the suggestion.” I am almost sure I’ve made a complete fool of myself. 

     “See you around then.” 

     With a cheeky wink, Cedric is gone and I am left an utter mess. My first thought is to find Ron or Hermione, but then I remember they are not on the best of terms right now. Besides, I am not sure I want to tell anyone about this just yet. 

     Still breathless, I rush into the Gryffindor common room, very nearly crashing into Ginny on my way.

     “Hi, Harry.” She squeaked. “I-”

     “Sorry, I’m really busy. Talk to you later, Ginny.” 

     I rush past her and up the stairs.

     “Oi, mate. What’s up?” Ron is sitting in his bed when I enter the dormitory. 

     “Nothing.” It is a struggle to keep my voice even, and Ron narrows his eyes slightly.

     “Nothing? Then why do you look like you’ve been slapped.” He sits up. “Nobody’s been giving you a hard time, have they?”

     “Definitely not. It’s just… you know, a really nice day today. A really, really beautiful Friday.”

     “Sure…” Ron seems unconvinced, and I nearly mention something, but now I want to tell someone even less. I am not sure what I would even say. 

     We stay in companionable silence for a while as I “casually” look through my wardrobe. I’ve discarded most of my t-shirts as too casual and my dress robes as too formal before I break. 

     “Ron?”

     “Yes?”

     “Who do you suppose Hermione asked to the Yule Ball? Do you think she likes this… person?” Immediately I know it was the wrong thing to say, Ron scowls and pulls up his homework. 

     “Some ugly bloke, no doubt.” He grumbles. 

     “Er… who would you want to ask if given the chance?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

     Ron shrugged. “I dunno. I suppose I'll ask some girl before the ball.” He still looked upset about Hermione though.

     “A girl?” I coughed, worried that might be a strange question. “Just any girl?”

     “Of course. Who else would I ask? McGonnigal? George was already told off for asking a professor.” 

     “Oh, okay.” We both lapsed into silence again. I now knew what question I wanted to ask, but I also knew the words wouldn’t escape my lips. It was clearly a wrong thing to ask.

     Saturday morning proved to be bright and cheery, but I had no desire for breakfast. There was a heavy lump in the pit of my stomach. Hermione must have noticed and asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t tell her either. 

     The hours of the day seemed to drag by, yet before I knew it the clock was chiming six. It was well and properly evening.

     Perhaps I had misunderstood Cedric, there was no way he would have asked me to hang out with him at the prefect’s baths. He was probably just genuinely giving me a clue about the next task. And here I was taking it like some freak, pretending it was something it most certainly wasn’t. 

     And yet…

     Glancing at my wardrobe I can’t help imagining hanging out with Cedric, talking, laughing, complaining that there was no Quidditch this year. 

     Before I know it I’m rushing out the door, invisibility cloak flung haphazardly over myself, swimming clothes and egg shoved inelegantly into my satchel. 

     I run down secret passages, being careful that I’m not followed. And then finally, at last, I am at the door of the prefect’s baths.

     Pausing to catch my breath, I try in vain to pat down my hair. I must look a mess, but it’s seven in the evening and I’m not even sure Cedric is going to be here still, if he ever was here in the first place. 

     I open the door, my heart thundering in my chest, from the running or perhaps from something else. At first I think nobody is inside, then I see him.

     Cedric Diggory’s hair looks as if it was at one time perfectly brushed, though he seems to have run his hand through it enough times that it has puffed up in the front. His clothes are perfectly clean and pressed, and I worry I am underdressed. He looks utterly perfect, though also a little stressed. 

     “I am sorry I’m late.” I have to stop myself from running out of here just as fast. Then he turns towards me with a heartbreakingly sweet smile. 

     “Hey. I was worried you weren’t coming.”

     I notice there is a basket beside him. He sees where my eyes go and his cheeks definitely go pink. 

     “I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner. I haven’t. Maybe… after swimming, would you like to share it with me?”

     I nod, unable to speak.

     Finally I manage to say. “I brought the egg.”

     “What? Oh, right.” He blushes again. “Hold it under the water and see what happens?”

     “What?” 

     He gives another trademarked cheeky grin and dives into the water, still fully clothed, creating a large slash. A moment later he resurfaces and beckons to me like a siren. I hesitate a full two seconds before I dive in after him, almost forgetting to grab the egg in my haste. 

     We are sitting side by side in our swim trunks, chatting and partaking of the food Cedric brought as we wait for our clothes to dry.

     I am trying my best to keep my eyes politely on his face. There is a delightful buzzing in my ears as if I’ve just won a Quidditch match. The question that I had wanted to ask Ron, and then later Hermione, is on the tip of my tongue.

     “Harry?” Cedric is looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. “I-”

     Suddenly there is a sound outside of the corridor and his expression changes to one of fear. “I-I should go.”

     “Wait! What?” It is all happening too quickly, nothing makes sense. “Did I do something wrong?”

     “I can’t stay. It’s late.” He is quickly grabbing his clothes and preparing to rush off. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…” He doesn’t finish.

     “Will we see each other again?”

     He is closing the door behind him, but he turns one last time to look at me, he doesn’t answer my question and from the look on his face I’m not sure I want to know the answer. 

     Presently I realise he took the light with him and that I’ve been sitting in the dark. It’s grown colder and I shiver, pulling on my still slightly damp clothes. 

     Slowly I make my way to the Gryffindor tower, avoiding answering the portrait lady’s questions. 

     “Where were you?” 

     “Ron? What are you doing awake?” I turn to see Ron sitting in one of the cushioned chairs, eerily reminiscent of Neville all those years ago.

     “I… Nothing. Just exploring. Couldn’t sleep.” It feels wrong to lie to him, but I am too confused to say anything more. 

     I don’t think Ron believes me.

     “Sure. Whatever you say. Just… you know you can tell me anything, right? I’m your best friend.”

     “Yeah, I know.” My answer comes too late, but Ron doesn’t ask any more questions. 

     In silence we both climb the stairs to our dormitory. 

     It has been a week, the Yule Ball is fast approaching, and all I can think about is Cedric. After that fateful night we haven’t had the chance to talk much, but every now and then I catch his eye and he gives a secret smile. I even got a note apologising for leaving so abruptly, though he still won’t say why.

     Hermione and I are currently in the library, studying, or at least she is. 

     “Harry, have you been listening? We need to find a way for you to breathe underwater.” Hermione sounds exasperated, but also genuinely concerned. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

     Honestly, I have not, and she can read it on my face despite my assurances that I have indeed been sleeping fine. 

     “What’s wrong?” 

     “I…” Perhaps Hermione would understand, she’s clearly going to the ball with someone she doesn’t want Ron and me to know about. And it would be less awkward to talk to her than Ron. “I… I like someone… and…” My face is burning red. “And, well, we hung out a bit. And I had a really nice time. But now I’m not sure what to do about it.”

     It is clear from Hermione’s expression that she didn’t expect what I said. “Really? Wow. Congratulations! Who?” She’s leaning closer and talking in a whisper.

     Her excitement makes me a little giddy. But I paus, considering what to say. At that moment I see Cedric walking by talking with another student, I recognize the other student as Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker. I nod my head towards Cedric, trying to discreetly point him out to Hermione. 

     She turns, and her eyes widen. “A fellow seeker?” She says, her tone teasing. 

     I nod. 

     “Apparently she is pretty good at Quidditch.” I am about to correct her when she continues. “Though I hear she is dating Cedric Diggory.”

     My heart plummets.

     “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Her face is sympathetic. “I could be wrong. But I’m sure I heard Lavender telling Parvati that she saw them kissing a few days ago. I don’t really get into the gossip, but…”

     Cedric laughs at something Cho says, his posture easy and relaxed. The sound grates on my ears. 

     I can’t stay here, I’ve got to get out. Shame burns my cheeks red as I rush outside, not caring where I’m going. Snow is falling in gentle tufts all around me as I find myself at the owlery. I feel cheated, angry, but most of all sad. 

     Tears prink at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

Chapter Text

     Perhaps hours, perhaps centuries, later I hear the soft tread of books on snow. Peaking out of the place I’ve hidden myself, I see, of all people, Cedric walking up to the owlery with a letter in hand. Pulling myself up and hoping I don’t look like I’ve been on the verge of tears, I decide then and there that I’m going to confront him about it. 

     “Cedric?” The boot-steps stop, and I see Cedric looking around for the source of the voice. When he catches sight of me a complicated emotion goes across his face that I can’t quite read. 

     “What’s up, Harry?” His expression is cheerful and friendly now, and I’m almost sure I imagined the previous expression. 

     “DoyouwanttogototheYuleBallwithme?” I am not sure who is more surprised, him or me. I hadn’t intended on saying that when I’d opened my mouth. I’d wanted to ask him if he was dating Cho Chang, but my traitorous mouth had other plans. 

     “I… What? Sorry, I’m already going with my girlfriend, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw. I’m sure there’s a cute girl who’d love to go with you, you don’t need to resort to asking me to go as a friend.”

     I should never have doubted Hermione. “A friend?” Is that all I ever was to Cedric? I could have sworn there was something more. He’d nearly leaned over and kissed me on Saturday, I’m sure of it… or am I? 

     “Sure. I suppose the rules don’t necessitate that you have to invite someone for romantic reasons. Though I would have thought you were better friends with Ron Weasley. But I am flattered that you thought I was a good enough friend to ask. I understand it can be pretty intimidating to ask girls. Honestly, if Cho hadn’t asked me out I’d have probably found a friend to help me out too.” He is talking just slightly too fast and his posture is guarded, despite his friendly words. 

     “What about Saturday? Right before you ran off, you were leaning forward as if you were going to kiss me. That isn’t something ‘just friends’ do.” I am honestly not sure what I’m saying at this point, but it sounds right. “A guy can like another guy, right?” It’s the question I have most wanted to ask since this all started. 

     My words certainly have an effect on Cedric, his face twists into a sneer, incongruous with his eyes, which are watery and helpless. 

     “That is gross. No, beyond gross, it’s utterly disgusting. Guys don’t like guys. Girls like guys. The killing curse must have done more than give you an edgy scar, it clearly messed you up in the head.” His hands are clenched into fists, and for a moment I genuinely don’t know what’s going to happen, my hand instinctively reaching for the wand in my back pocket.  “You’re a freak.”

     He steps closer, and I realise that he’s taller than me. Towering over me. I forget about my wand. All I can think about is Uncle Vernon, his face beet red, spit flying from his mouth, and I know what comes next. 

     The Dursleys were right, I really am just a freak.

     But instead Cedric stops, and I recognize the look in his eyes, he is fighting back tears. He lowers his fist, but he is still shaking. “Wait, I think I know what’s actually happening. You’re clearly hoping I’ll break up with Cho so you can date her instead. I should have seen this coming.” His teeth are pink, as if there’s blood in his mouth. 

     I have no idea what he’s talking about, but at this point I'm not about to disagree with him.

     “And to think I thought you were my friend…” He turns away, fists still clenched at his sides. I am about to breathe a sigh of relief, or perhaps have a panic attack, I haven’t decided which yet, when he adds, “And stay away from Cho. She’s mine.” 

***

     Harry awakens in a cold sweat, trembling as if he’d just had a nightmare. Though he doesn’t want to remember his dream. In fact, he’s tried his hardest to forget those events in his past. 

     It was easy, so very easy, to let everyone think he’d had a crush on Cho Chang. So easy in fact that he’d almost made himself believe it too. She was very pretty, and a great Quidditch seeker, and smart, and she’d seemed to find him attractive as well. And if pretending to like her gave him an excuse to look at Cedric too, then nobody had to know. 

     She had even genuinely been fun to hang out with during the DA meetings. 

     But then there’d been that disastrous Valentine’s date with her. After that they hadn’t talked much. He almost hadn’t noticed when her parents pulled her out of Hogwarts upon learning what Umbridge was doing. She’d betrayed the DA, after all. 

     The Slug Club party tonight must be bringing back memories of the Yule Ball. 

     He really needed to stop thinking about it all though. 

     What was in the past is in the past. 

     He should know that better than anyone.

Chapter Text

     Christmas was in the air, quite literally as someone has enchanted the ceilings to dust down snow on unsuspecting partygoers. Harry brushes said snow out of his hair for the millionth time, searching around for Luna. 

     When he finally finds her he is surprised it has taken him so long. Luna stands off to one corner, dressed in silver dress robes that almost seem to glow because they are so sleek. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on her head, which seems to sparkle in the slight as if from glitter. In fact, her cheeks are dusted with soft grey glitter too, like a moth's wings. Twinkling full moons hang from her ears. As Harry gets closer he realises her robes are studded with a million tiny golden stars that seem to form constellations before his eyes.

     Harry feels horribly underdressed in his unadorned black robes. And underneath it all, there is the smallest twinge of… perhaps envy? Luna can wear whatever strange clothes she wants, not seeming to care what others think of her. Harry is all too aware what people would think if the Chosen One walked around in clothes like that. 

     “Hullo, Harry.” Luna walks up to him, a faint dreamy smile on her face. For a moment she really does look like a vision made of moonlight and stardust, then he sees her earrings are actually the discarded shells of beetles and he can’t help thinking she’s something far more ineffable than that. His slightly rumpled silhouette is mirrored back to him from her round golden sunglasses. 

     “Hi. Are those beetles?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but the words were already out. 

     “Yes, they need to shed their shells to misdirect naggles, it is very clever.” 

     “Oh.” Belatedly Harry offers his arm. Luna taps the back of his hand with softly gloved fingers, but doesn’t take it, and Harry doesn’t bother correcting her. 

     Side by side the pair walk into Slughorn's party.

     A blast of sights and sounds assaults Harry’s senses the moment he steps inside. Everywhere he looks people are talking and drinking butterbeer –and perhaps firewhiskey–. It takes a moment for him to realise Professor Slughorn is right in front of him, shaking his hand, and wishing him a happy Christmas. 

     “Oh, yes. You too.” He quickly fumbles a reply. 

     “Yes, yes. And who is this with you?” He nods his second chin at Luna, who is staring at the Christmas tree with interest.

     “This is Luna Lovegood, my friend.”

     “Yes, I am Harry’s friend.” Luna agrees.

     “I see. I am surprised you brought along just a friend, I would have expected the Great Harry Potter to have plenty of admirers, and perhaps a girlfriend on the side, eh?” Slughorn nudges Harry in the ribs, a suggestive wink accompanying a conspiratorial nod of the head. 

     Harry coughs, not entirely wishing to discuss this. But perhaps it will help him get closer to Slughorn and the memory, so he doesn’t find an excuse to leave. 

     “No, I haven’t found anyone yet. I’m trying to focus on my studies this year.”

     Slughorn laughs jovially, clapping Harry on the back and nearly spilling the flute of butterbeer Harry was just handed. “How studious of you. But I should tell you, school is the best time to forge lasting bonds with others. Ah, speaking of which, miss Granger.”

     Hermione stumbles in on the group, causing Harry to realise Luna seems to have wandered off. 

     “Hi, Harry, Professor. Sorry, I can’t talk for long.”

     “Nonsense. I was just telling Harry here that he should get a girlfriend.”

     Hermione gives Harry a sympathetic wince, which Harry mirrors and mouths “Save me” behind Slughorn’s back. 

     “He should be focusing on studying instead of getting distracted with those things.” She says helpfully, looking around as if expecting something horrifying to jump out of the crowd.

     “Harry said the very same thing to me. Oh, do I see your date, Mr. MacLegan over there, Miss Granger?”

     “Cormac?!” Harry says at the same time Hermione says, “I really must be going.” She is gone in a twirl of silk, so fast Harry is almost sure she apperated. 

     Seeing his chance now that Slughorn is hailing Cormac MacLegan, Harry takes Hermione’s example and makes a run for it. Dashing between a pair of flirting partygoers and hiding behind the first table he sees. 

     It happens to be the snack table, so Harry helps himself to a scone or two. 

     His perfect hiding place is invaded in a flurry, as none other than Hermione dashes down beside him.

     “Hermione!”

     “Shhhhh!”

     “ Hermione? What are you hiding from, and did I hear that you came with Cormac?” Harry asks in a whisper, scooting to the side to make room for his friend. 

     “Yes.” Hermione looks vaguely sick.

     “Yes?”

     “Inviting Cormac was supposed to make Ron jealous, but I’m not sure I can do it. He’s so entitled and kisses worse than a venomous tentacula.”

     “Why don’t you just tell Ron that you like him?” Harry asked after a brief lull of silence as Hermione ate one of his scones.

     “I can’t. I…” She trails off, setting her jaw in determination. “If he wants to get over his silly games and jealousy he can talk to me, but I’m not going to go begging for him to notice me.”

     “So no more Cormac?” Harry asks, brow raised because he knows Ron isn’t the only one playing games and getting jealous.

     Hermione sighs. “Yes. No more Cormac.” She takes another bite of scone. “Oh Merlin! Here he comes!” In another flash Hermione is gone. 

     “What are you doing under the table?” Cormac’s pompous voice sounds above Harry, who is currently staring at some ostentatiously polished shoes. 

     “Um… Dropped my wand?” Harry suggests, extricating himself from his hiding place reluctantly. He holds his wand up as evidence, though Cormac doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

     “I was thinking, you should add me to the team.”

          “Sorry?”

     “The Quidditch team. As one friend to another, do a bro a favour.”

          Harry blinks at him. “What? Why would I-? Silence when have we been ‘bros’?”

     “I’m dating Harriett-”

          “Hermione”

     “-Whatever. The point is, you should let me on the team.”

     This is so much worse than talking with Slughorn, at least the professor had some concept of personal space, Cormac is standing much too close and Harry can smell the firewhiskey on his breath. “I already have a team, it’s too late in-”

     “Yeah, yeah. That excuse might work for some casual player. But I know you need me- Ugh, what is Loony doing here?” 

     Sure enough, Luna is standing beside them as if she has materialised there, staring at Cormac with her eyes concealed by sunglasses. 

     “Her name is Luna. And she came here with me.” 

     Cormac looks distastefully between Harry and Luna, all the while Luna stays silent and stares at him. 

     “I suggest you leave.” Harry might not be willing to ask Cormac to leave on his own accord, but he is more than willing to if Cormac insults Harry’s friends.

     “Fine. Hang out with your creepy girlfriend then. But mark my words, you need me for Quidditch. When you come crawling back for my help, see if I care.” With those final words he leaves in a huff. 

     Now that Cormac is gone, Harry lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Luna.”

     “That man was infested with nargles.” She says simply, curiously peering at the snack table. 

     Harry laughs. “I am not surprised.”

     The two loiter around the snack table contentedly as Luna explains to Harry what the signs of nargle infestations are and different ways to ward them off, examining all the snacks for one that fits her liking. 

     In all honesty, Harry is content to spend the rest of the night like this, even chiming in a few times as the discussion evolves into magical creatures in general. 

     Luna is just explaining that unicorns are a government conspiracy when Harry sees something that makes his blood run cold. Through the throng of party guests Harry is almost certain he saw a familiar mane of curly black hair. 

     “I’m sorry, Luna. I have to quickly check something.” He barely waits for her to nod in understanding before he’s speeding through the crowd, mumbling apologies as he bumps through people, his eyes never leaving the hair.  He is slowly losing ground though, the figure getting further and further away from him.

     In an act of desperation he calls out. To his surprise the figure turns and Harry’s stomach plummets. 

     Sure enough, there are the familiar features of his godfather, a man he’d thought was dead. Sirius Black smiles at Harry, raising a glass in salute before downing it in one.

     The throng of people around Harry seems to be getting thicker, jostling against him and obscuring his view. A tall witch with an even taller hat walks in front of him, and when she’s gone there is no sight of Sirius. 

     Harry calls his name again, but to no avail. The crowd of partygoers thins leaving no trace that Sirius was ever there. 

     “Professor Slughorn!” Harry turns quickly, surprised to catch sight of Filtch dragging Malfoy towards Slughorn by the ear. “I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. Claims to have been invited to your party. Did you extend him such an invitation?”

     “Alright, fine,” Malfoy’s words are hissed through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t invited. I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”

     Harry moves in closer, curious.

Chapter Text

     Jean Watson walked along the stage-hand’s corridor, rubbing the back of her neck as she stretched. She was exhausted. At seventeen she was trying to finish highschool, take some college classes, and act in a starring role on the world’s biggest show. It was starting to take its toll on her and she couldn’t wait to spend the holidays with her family. But first, she had to speak to Mr. Ristof.

     “Excuse me, Miss. What are you doing here?”

     Jean gave the secretary an appraising look. The young woman was new and clearly still nervous, staring at Jean with wide eyes despite being older. “I am here to speak to the director. I have a few thoughts about Hermione’s role in the story that I would like to suggest to him. I am sure he would be most interested to hear what I have to say.” She smiled slightly as she saw the woman’s eyes go wider at the mention of the name. 

     “O-oh. Um. I can ask him if it’s alright.” The woman still seemed uncertain. 

     “Look…” Jean looked down at the woman’s name tag. “Anne, I am sure Joseph doesn’t want to get unnecessary calls. He is very busy, you know. I’ll just pop up and talk to him and then be gone. There’s really no need to ask him.” Jean clicked a pen impatiently, smirking internally when the Anne’s eyes immediately went to the pen.

     “O-okay, Miss Watson-”

     “Call me Jean.”

     “Jean. I can let you up.” Anne clicked the buzzer for the door and it opened. “Oh! Wait! I hope it’s not too much to ask, but can I have your autograph?”

     Jean turned graciously. “Of course. What would you like me to sign?”

     “Um!” Anne looked around desperately for some paper. “I don’t have anything on me…” Desperately the woman offered her hand. 

     Jean was feeling generous, so she reached into her own pocket for a scrap of paper and quickly scrawled her signature onto it. 

     As Jean wrote a short message as well, Anne rambled excitedly. “You- Hermione- is my favourite character. She’s so smart and witty, and doesn’t take nonsense from anyone. I honestly believe she could become the Minister of Magic if she tried. And those looks between you and Harry, I am almost certain you have a crush on each other. My friends say he’s going to end up with Ginny, but I still believe in Harrmione.”

     Jean handed over the paper and quickly ascended the stairs to Mr. Ristof’s office. As much as she enjoyed when people appreciated her acting, it was still strange to hear people speculating on Hermione’s lovelife as if it had anything to do with Jean. Didn’t they know it was all a show? 

     Well, I suppose not everyone knows. Her thoughts flashed guiltily to Harry Potter. He had been her staunchest friend since she was twelve years old, and yet he didn’t even know her real name. She honestly hoped he didn’t get a crush on her, it would make things all the worse. 

     Speaking of relationships on set.

     Jean pushed Ristof’s door open, perhaps a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. “I refuse to be part of this love triangle with Cormac, Arnold, and Lavender. And if you ever put me in the same room as Cormac again, I will actually break his nose.”

     With a deep sigh, Ristof looked up from his desk, Harry’s sleep-cam reflecting in his half-moon spectacles. “Miss Watson, you can not punch the son of our biggest financier. He is still upset that Harry won’t let him have a more starring role. We’re lucky his father hasn’t pulled out.”

     “But he’s an entitled git that doesn’t understand the word consent.” Jean was properly fuming now. She’d expected Ristof would take some convincing, but this was ridiculous. 

     “Perhaps. But his father pays all our bills. I hear you are trying to get a scholarship to a prestigious university, I could increase your wages as compensation.”

     Jean was just about to tell him where he could shove his wages. But he had a point. She was struggling in school as it was, too busy with the show to study enough. It was unlikely she would get the scholarship, she was going to need to pay her own tuition. 

     “I know you are a smart girl. If it makes you feel any better I can try to find a way to subtly get Cormac off the show. His viewer rating isn’t very good at all. Please, sit.”

     Defeated, Jean sat, the fight going out of her. 

     “Now, what is this about not wanting to be in the love triangle? Hermione and Ron’s will-they-won’t-they is some people’s favourite part.”

     “Let’s just say Arnold and I find it hard to coexist in the same place. We have nothing in common, and it is incredibly hard to pretend to tolerate each other, much less pretend to be in love with him.”

     Ristof frowned in that way Jean knew meant he didn’t like what he was hearing and probably wasn’t going to change his mind about it. “Miss Watson, I am very disappointed in your lack of professionalism. Are you telling me that you can’t act? That this show means nothing to you? First that boy’s suicide, then Cormac and now this, I am starting to wonder if you’re planning on quitting. Are you planning on throwing this all aside, because you can’t stand to interact with another perfectly professional actor?” His eyes brooked no argument. 

     “I- No, sir. I will pack my things for the holidays. I am not quitting.” She turned slowly and left, not even glancing at Anne as she walked past. 

***

     “Can you two not make out in the lounge? I am trying to have a quick breakfast.”

     Arnold looked over at the boy who’d spoken, realising belatedly that this indeed was the lounge. The boy looked at him reproachfully for a few more moments, his dark brown eyes boring into Arnold. Reluctantly he broke away from Lavender, who pouted slightly before flopping down on one of the seats. 

     “Doing anything for Christmas?” He asked conversationally as he sat beside his girlfriend. 

     “No. I am Jewish. My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas.” Zach replied, looking down at his salad contemplatively. He was wearing a simple white shirt that contrasted with his medium brown skin. 

     Arnold was surprised. How long had he known Zack and yet never knew he was Jewish? “Oh, then happy…” He trailed off, embarrassingly he didn’t actually know what Jewish people celebrated. “...holidays.” Arnold finished lamely. 

     It was strange how little they actually knew about each other's lives outside of the show. Knowing just made things more complicated, harder to remember what was part of the show and what wasn’t. It had taken him ages to stop calling Zach ‘Neville’ when they were off set, Neville had just been so ingrained in his head.  

     “Well, I’m going to Weasley house for the Holidays, spending them with Harry. So I’ll get to visit with my family later.” At the mention of Harry he felt a slight curl of discomfort in his chest. He usually tried not to think of Harry when he was off set, it made things… easier.

     An uncomfortable silence overtook the room after Arnold’s foolish words. 

     Arnold considered leaving, and perhaps finding a broom closet to get snogged senseless in, but just then another boy walked into the lounge. Almost instantly he recognized the pink faux-fur sweater of Gwyn Llwellyn. 

     Just the guy he needed. 

***

     Gwyn sat heavily on a beanbag a little ways from the others, his head pounding just slightly. He’d probably had more than enough, but he popped another spiked gummy bear into his mouth anyways. It’s not like it would kill him, probably. 

     “You look like shit.” Arnold said with his usual idiotic smile. Gwyn knew the guy was training to be a physicist of some sort, but Arnold’s smile made him look like his brain was stuffed with warm cotton. 

     “Likewise.” Gwyn replied, uncertain if he was in the mood for conversation. The holidays were almost as bad as summer break, with Gwyn stretched between incredibly relieved he wouldn’t have to see Harry Potter’s face for a while but also knowing he would miss said face dreadfully. 

     “How much for a packet of gummies?” 

     Straight to business. It seemed as though Arnold could tell Gwyn wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “You’re spending your holidays with the big guy himself, right?” Gwyn never ever used Harry Potter’s name if he could help it. 

     Arnold nodded, wincing slightly.

     “Take the bag free of charge.” Gwyn tossed him a full bag, nodding in acknowledgement of Arnold’s appreciative exclamation. 

     “Arny! I thought we agreed no more drugs. This type of stuff could get you thrown off the show!”

     Gwyn winced slightly, Arnold’s girlfriend was a little too loud and high-pitched for his current headache. “He’ll be fine. I got caught on screen high as a kite and they only reprimanded me a little.” In truth he’d nearly been kicked off right then and there, it was thanks to Jean’s quick thinking that it had all been fixed. 

     “I still can’t believe you did that. It was ballsy.” Arnold chuckled slightly. “I’ve actually been wondering, was it your idea to crash the slug party or was it theirs?”

     “It was actually Jean’s. I know you and here don’t always see eye to eye, but she has a good mind for story.” 

     “You got that right. I’ve asked Ristof if the will-they-won’t-they side-plot can be dropped multiple times. But he said I was being unprofessional and doing a disservice to Jean’s and my career. Said that if she can be professional about it and not complain, then so can I.”

     “Sympathies.” Gwyn regretted signing up with this show more and more every day, and he was certain his fellow actors felt the same. “I propose a toast.” The other three looked up at him quizzically. “To another shitty year.” He raised his gummy bear high in salute and dropped it into his mouth. 

     Chuckling, Arnold copied his example. Zach raised his salad in a similar gesture, though he also rolled his eyes at the two of them. Lavender stole one of Arnold’s gummies and saluted as well. 

     “To another shitty year.”

Chapter Text

     It is the evening of Christmas Day, and Harry has secluded himself beside the tree to munch on a cookie and contemplate. He has been meaning to tell Lupin about seeing Sirius, but he isn’t sure how to go about it. Harry knows what he saw, but he’s almost sure Lupin won’t believe him.

     Strange things have been happening at Hogwarts, but no one seems to believe him.

     First there was that light fixture with Sirius’s name on it, then Malfoy is acting strangely, then Harry actually sees Sirius, and lastly the current Minister of Magic comes asking questions about Dumbledor. Not to mention the thing with Snape and the Unbreakable Vow. 

     He already tried talking with Arthur and Lupin about Malfoy and Snape, but it ended up being a fruitless endeavour. 

     “Hi, Harry.”

     Harry looks up from his brooding to see the freckled face of Ginny Weasley framed in the glow of Christmas lights. “Oh, hi, Ginny.”

     “Can I sit down?”

     “Sure.” Harry shifts to the side to make more room for her on the couch.

     “You look like something is on your mind. Everything alright?”

     He contemplates not telling her anything, it’s unlikely that she would believe him. But he had fought in the Department of Mysteries with her last year. Perhaps he could trust her. “It’s just…”

     She waits encouragingly for him to continue, letting him find the words he needs. 

     “Remember Professor Slughorn’s party?”

     She nods.

     “Well, I… Promise you won’t tell anyone and that you won’t tease me about it?”

     “Harry, you were our general last year when we resisted Umbridge’s tyranny. I trust you with my life, so I would never betray your trust.”

     Harry feels hope expand in his chest. “Okay, so, at the party I saw Sirius. He was alive. But then Malfoy crashed into the party and I lost sight of him.”

     Ginny blinks at him in surprise, and Harry’s hope ebbs. 

     “Well, I think Bellatrix didn’t actually kill Sirius, only captured him. And now Malfoy is working with the Death Eaters, and is definitely plotting something, and I think it has something to do with Sirius.” Harry would have probably started rambling more, or else fled the room, but Ginny spoke before either of those things could happen. 

     “Wow. That is a lot to take in. I always knew Malfoy was a tosser, and we did see his father in the Department of Mysteries. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing something on Voldemort’s orders.”

     Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “What about my godfather?”

     Her brows furrow sadly. “I… I dunno, Harry. I was there when he died…”

          “But I saw him!”

     “Maybe it was Voldemort getting into your head again?”

          “I would know the difference. You don’t understand-”

     “Yes, I do. You are talking to the only other person who’s had him in their head, showing visions that never happened, manipulating you. I know what it is like, how you can’t trust your own mind.”

     Harry sees sympathy in her autumnal brown eyes, and he knows she has a point. He feels sheepish for his outburst. 

     “I know you want Sirius to be alive. But if Malfoy is planning something, we need to be prepared. Voldemort clearly wants to distract you, don’t let him. I know it’s hard, but I will do whatever I can to help. I’m here.” Slowly Ginny leans in and hugs him. 

     It feels so nice to be believed. Ginny might not agree about Sirius, but Harry can hardly blame her. The important part is she agrees Malfoy is up to something and is willing to help Harry. He isn’t sure, but there might be tears in his eyes. Gently, he hugs her back. 

     “Ooo, are these lovebirds I see?”

     Harry glares up at the teasing faces of Fred and George. The Weasley twins are practically identical in every way, though Fred has started growing his hair out, much to Mrs. Weasley’s chagrin. 

     Ginny is glaring at them as well. “Leave us alone, tossers. Harry and I are just hanging out, as friends.” Harry thinks he catches a hint of pink on her cheeks, but it’s impossible to tell with all the Christmas lights. 

     “Sure, sure.”

     “Anyways. It’s our turn to hog Harry.” Fred gives Ginny a slight shove, but she doesn’t budge. 

     Harry looks at them warily. “What is it?”

     “Nothing much, just your Christmas present.” Fred continues, giving Ginny a pointed look. 

     “Just hand it over. I don’t see why Ginny can’t be here for it.”

     Fred and George turn their attention to Harry. “It is a secret present.”

     “Last time these two oafs gave someone a ‘secret present’ it was an exploding stink bomb. I would be careful Harry.” Ginny returns Fred’s pointed look. 

     “Come on, you got to stop ruining our jokes.” George gives Ginny a proper glare and the twins leave in a huff. 

     “Thanks for that.” 

     “Don’t mention it. My brothers are idiots.”

Chapter Text

     “They’re not all bad.” The twins might be ridiculous pranksters, but they’ve always had a soft spot for Harry, and he can’t help defend them.

     “You’re not related to them. I’ve had to live with them my whole life.” Ginny chuckles. “So I get to call them whatever I want, sibling privileges.”

     Harry’s face drops slightly at that, unfortunately Ginny notices.
     “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

     “It’s fine.” It is not truthful and she knows it.

     “The Weasleys will always consider you one of us. You’re practically family. Maybe not legally, but my parents think of you like a son. You are an honorary Weasley.”

     “Thanks. Seriously.” He has to admit her words do warm his heart. The Burrow has been more like a home than anywhere else, save perhaps Hogwarts, and even he knows it’s depressing to consider school your home. But he does still wish he had someone official, someone who could take him away from the Dursleys forever, someone he could claim as family just by virtue of existing. 

     “Come on,” Ginny gets up, arm looped between his, dragging him up beside her. “Let’s go do something fun, it’s Christmas. I know just the thing!”

     Harry lets her drag him along, curious. 

     The youngest Weasley cuts a speedy path through the kitchen and out the back door, stopping the briefest of moments to urge Harry into a sweater and shove a cookie in his hand.

     "Where are we going?”

     “You’ll see.” Ginny replies with a mischievous wink.

     Outside is windless yet with a brisk chill that makes Harry glad Ginny insisted on the sweater. The grass crackles under their feet, thick with frost. A stray dog barks in the darkness, and with a pang Harry thinks of Sirius, but then Ginny is running with him through the tall grass and it takes all his focus to not fall over and embarrass himself. 

     They skid to a halt in front of the broom-shed, and he realises what Ginny has in mind. She releases his arm and disappears into the shed, coming out after a moment with a broom in each hand. 

     “Catch.”

     With practised reflexes he scoops the broom out of the air, already feeling calmer at the instinctive motion, the aged wood of the handle familiar in his grip. 

     “Race you to the old oak!” With that she is off.

     Harry is a little slower, remembering how the last broom he’d borrowed had refused to fly. Luckily, this broom had none of the previous broom’s hangups and leapt into the air like an excitable puppy. A surprised burst of laughter escaped his lips as he joined the race, the cold air wiping past his cheeks. 

     “Oi, Ginny! Wait up!”

     Instinctively, she turns back to look at him, and with a whoop of laughter he speeds past her, taking advantage of her momentary distraction. 

     Ginny gasps in mock outrage and gives chase, practically clinging to his heels as they loop and soar through the air. 

     Harry leans in, minimising the air’s drag on his body, coaxing the broom faster, the whistling in his ears and the dark outline of the oak’s bare branches against the starry sky the only things in his mind. 

     Peacefully nothingness. 

     If he could spend his every waking moment up in the sky he would, breathing in the fresh air, exalting in his weightless mastery of the clouds. 

     Up here nothing matters. 

     Up here he is free. 

     The broom tilts downwards a hair, bringing into view the vast expanse of darkness that dimly Harry recognized as the ground. The inky pit reached up towards him, as if trying to swallow him whole, intent on enveloping him in its midnight embrace. 

     Would that darkness be cold as the sharp sky? Or warm like silky chocolate?

     He can almost imagine plunging in, drowning in the thick syrup, disappearing…

     “Harry!” 

     Ginny’s voice breaks him out of his revere. 

     “Tree!”

     Swerving sharply, he just barely manages to avoid crashing face first into the trunk. The sudden turn sends him spinning, all too aware of gravity. There isn’t time to right himself before he’s crashing into a small hedge, the broom going one way and he another. 

     “Shit! Harry! Are you okay?!”

     There’s that word again, the same mystery word Malfoy had used. Ginny’s voice is high pitched and panicked as she drags him out of the bushes, with a rough quality as if she’s about to cry. 

     “Yeah, I’m fine. Had worse falls before.” 

     He realises she’s clutching him close to herself, face buried in his sweater. 

     “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise it was so dark. If I’d realised how dangerous it was I’d never have done it!”

     “Look, I’m perfectly alright.” Harry gently pulls her back so she can look at him. “Lumos.” His wand lights up between them. Sure enough there are tears in her eyes.

     She surveys him, her wind-pinked cheeks streaked, her eyes large and watery. 

     “See, I’m okay. I didn’t mean to freak you out so much.”

     “I care about you. I was worried.” She seems to be returning to her usual self, brushing a sleeve across her face in an attempt to remove the evidence of tears, missing one tear in her hurry. 

     “I’m sorry. I guess it was darker than I expected.”

     “W-we should head back.”

     “Oh my god, are you alright?” Harry’s next word is cut off by a newcomer, he raises his wand to get a better look. The light reveals a middle aged man and woman, both in matching hideous sweaters of the Christmas variety; the woman wears an orange and red striped hat with a pop-pom on top. “You took quite the tumble there.” It’s the man speaking, his voice with an unusual cadence that Harry can’t place.

     “Yes, we’re both okay.”

     At his voice the woman gasps. “Hank! It’s- It’s him! Sweet Jesus, Hank.”

     “Who?” The man seems as confused as Harry feels. 

     The woman whispers not so quietly, “You know, the boy from the- with the-” She gestures to her forehead. 

     “Well I’ll be, you must be Harry Potter.” 

     Right. Of course. Harry should have known. 

     “Goodness!” The woman is clearly very excited, and perhaps slightly nervous too. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She turns to the man. “Hank, didn’t I tell you this looked like the place? And you didn’t believe me. I always recognize a-”

     Ginny chimes in, interrupting the woman. “I’m sorry, but we should really get going.”

     “My, my, honeybun, you must be Ginny!” The woman turns to Ginny like a hippogriff on ferrets. “What a little dear you are.” She pinches Ginny’s cheek. “I’m always telling my husband what a cute couple you two make. Isn’t that right, Hank?”

     “Now, Sally, they’re just kids.” Hank says, cutting off the beginning of Harry’s protestations.

     “I knew you were the one when we were their age.” The couple share a smile that leaves Harry feeling awkward. After a moment, Sally takes Ginny’s hands and stares at her meaningfully. “Keep a good strong grip on your man, honeybun. He’s a keeper, you hear me?” 

     “Technically he’s a Seeker.” 

     Harry can’t help it, he bursts out laughing, earning a disgruntled look from the couple and a smile from Ginny. 

     “Must be off. Goodbye and Merry Christmas!” With that he grabs Ginny’s hand and makes a run for it, jumping over a bush as she runs alongside him.

     “Hey! Come back! Hank, I didn’t get their autograph!”

Chapter Text

     Mrs. Weasley was very upset to learn that Harry and Ginny went out, though mercifully Ginny doesn’t mention the crashed broom. 

     Speaking of which, they will have to retrieve it tomorrow before she notices, seeing as they left it in that bush. Harry has no chance of retrieving it now though, having been put under both house and warm blanket arrest by the Weasley matron, a hot cup of cocoa in his hands. 

     Ginny was sent to bed, so Harry is forced to suffer the warm punishment by himself. 

     That is, until the twins swoop in from opposite sides, almost as if they had been waiting in ambush. 

     “How did the midnight stroll with our dear sister go?” Asks George as Fred cuts off Harry’s escape, not that Harry’s going anywhere, Mrs. Weasley has encased him in an inescapable prison. 

     “Fine. Though your mother is scarily good at folding, I fear I shall never move again.”

     Fred chuckles. “Seeing as you’re stuck there, we might as well give you our present at long last.”

     “Good point, no Ginny to shoo us off.”

     Harry is promptly sandwiched by the twins. The couch, having been small to begin with, now forces the twins to practically sit on him. 

     “This better be good.”

     “It is the best.” Fred replies sagely. 

     “Utterly amazing.” Agrees George. 

     Harry sighs, tugging at the fluorescently pink bow, it is made of sterner stuff than he expected and stays firmly attached to the navy wrapping paper. 

     George chuckles, making Harry wonder if it was a prank all along, an unopenable present. 

     “It is a box. Just take off the lid.” Fred finally says, after Harry has been at it for some time. “We didn’t mean to confound you with our clever and lazy wrapping skills. G, stop laughing, you’re embarrassing the poor guy.”

     Harry’s face turns a decided shade of crimson. The Boy Who Lived, and he can’t even figure out a box. At least it is only Fred and George here to witness his embarrassment. Ready to just get this over with, he lifts the lid with annoying ease.

     Inside the box is a pile of white wrapping paper, pristine white, fluffy, and definitely not related to parchment in any way. 

     “Did you steal this from muggles?” He hisses under his breath.

     “Nope.” The twins say in unison, popping the P. 

     “Whatever.” The twins have never lied to him before, but the paper is exceedingly fine, which makes their claim hard to believe. 

     Underneath and partly wrapped up in the paper is a small pendant. It is a polished grey and surprisingly heavy in the hand. 

     Before he can ask them what is it and where is the joke, Fred says almost in a whisper, “It’s one of our little prank tricks. If you ever need complete privacy, and I mean complete, just crack this little baby beneath your heel-”

     “-Boot heel-” Interjects George unnecessarily. 

     “-Yes, that. Crack it, and you’ll have perfect privacy.”

     “But you can only use it once. So use it wisely.”

     “O-k-a-y…” Harry isn’t entirely sure what to do with this gift, and the twins are being cryptic about it, giving each other meaningful looks and the like, but it is small enough to go unnoticed, so he slips the cord over his neck. 

     “We’ve probably hogged enough of Harry’s time already. Let’s go.” George stands up, finally allowing Harry to take a much needed breath.

     “Right.” Fred stands too, before hesitating and turning back to Harry. “Even if you feel like you’re all alone and the whole world is against you, there are people rooting for you, people fighting for you.” Fred’s brown eyes, a shade lighter than George's, bore into Harry, expression strangely fierce, voice below a whisper. “Just… You’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” With an awkward pat on the shoulder the twins are gone, leaving Harry bewildered and with a slight headache.

     “Keep the box, it’s pretty nifty.” A twin calls back. “Never have to wrap presents again.”

     “At least for one person.”

     “Hm, didn’t think of that. Think we should have given him more boxes?”

     "Nah, he’ll be…” 

     Their voices finally fade into the house. 

     Harry looks at the pendant again, tracing a thumb over its completely smooth surface. Could he even crack something like that with his boot? The twins had already given him dark bombs, what made this little pendant so different?

     Perhaps the real trick was still in the box.

     He analysed the box more closely, turning it this way and that, digging through the paper. His search turns up very little. The bow on top is detachable, kept still with a clever little clip concealed on the bottom, bringing to mind a barrette. But besides that nothing more can be gleaned. 

     Harry tries a few spells over it, yet still nothing. 

     Giving up for the night, he hunkers deeper into his blanket prison, hoping Mrs. Weasley will return eventually to release him.

Chapter Text

     Harry wakes to a gentle hand brushing the hair from his brow and a voice calling his name. Opening eyes reveals a temporarily blurry figure, before said figure readjusts his glasses and he sees Ginny.

     “Good morning, sleepy head.” She says with a smile, leaning over him on the couch. 

     “Morning.” He sits up, nearly knocking heads with her in his ascent. 

     “Did you sleep here all night?”

     He looks down at himself, seeing that apparently his sleeping self was fare cleverer than his awake self and had escaped Mrs. Weasley’s binds. “Yeah.” Not wanting to admit his blanket struggles, he adds, “It was warm down here.”

     “Good point. The only thing warmer than a fireplace is sharing body heat with another person.”

     “I guess…” Harry suddenly notices how close they were sitting and eases himself off the couch. “Is there any breakfast? I’m starving.”

     “Oh, right! We let you sleep in, so you missed it.” Ginny pulls out a steaming plate of eggs and sausages. “But I saved some for you. Here.” She holds out a fork for him.

     “Thanks. I’ll just take this to the table then.” Says Harry hastily, unsure of why he suddenly feels uncomfortable. It was a nice gesture on Ginny’s part, after all.

     “I’ll join you.”

     “Oh, sure.”

     Ginny sits beside him at the table and pulls out a notebook. “I know this is kinda Hermione’s thing, but I was thinking we should make a record of any important information regarding Malfoy’s plots at school, so like that we don’t get our information jumbled.” 

     Instantly Harry feels relief, Ginny had said she would help and here she is, there was no reason for him to feel uncomfortable, she is one ally he knows he can rely on. And if it just so happens that she is currently leaning against him as she writes down all they know so far, it is because she is just a naturally physical person, nothing to read into or worry about there. 

     “Don’t forget to mention Sirius.” Before she can protest, he adda, “Malfoy might have something to do with it, or it could be a hallucination from Voldemort, we shouldn’t discount it too early.”

     With a nod she accents, marking down Sirius Black with a large circle and question mark around his name. 

     “Have you mentioned any of this to Dumbledor?”

     “I haven’t had a chance to yet, but I’m going to be talking to him as soon as I can once we return to school.”

     “Good. At the very least you should tell him about your worries that Voldemort is getting into your head again.” After a pause, she adds, “Right! That reminds me, we’re going straight to Hogwarts from the Burrow, so you should get packing. We will be leaving today.”

     With that, Harry funnelles the last of the eggs into his mouth. “I should get to that then, I’ve already slept in enough.”

     “Do you want any help?”

     “Nah, I’m good. I like to keep my stuff tidy. Ron’s the one who might need help.”

     Ginny laughs at that. “I’m already packed, so I’ll see if I can brainstorm some more.” She gestures towards the notebook.

     Upstairs Harry sees Ron slumped on his bed, looking distracted. 

     “Ron? Done packing?”

     “Do you ever wonder what the point of romance is? Or friendship? Or any of those things? Why aren't we just like this little spot of mould, drifting through the world without a care in the world?”

     Harry squints at the mould in question, not feeling particularly philosophically compelled but willing to humour his friend. “I suppose it is more interesting that way. There might be tragedy, but there’s good moments too. Without it we wouldn’t even be able to have this conversation.” 

     Harry waits a moment as Ron stares at the mould, wondering if the other had heard him. He notices a large and hideously pink necklace dangling out of Ron’s hand.

     “Did something happen with Lavender?” He remembered he’d been meaning to ask Ron about her, but now really didn’t seem the time. 

     That seems to knock Ron out of his reverie. “What? No, nothing’s wrong. We’re all good.” He stuffs the necklace into his pocket. “She just gave me a really ugly gift, is all. I think she has bad taste in jewellery.” He tries for a laugh, but Harry knows what a genuine Ron laugh sounds like and that isn’t it. 

     “Oh…” Harry trails off awkwardly.

     “So, when are you going to get yourself a girlfriend?” Ron turns to look up at him, clearly changing the subject. “It’s been ages since Cho. You can’t stay stuck on her forever, you know.”

     “Yeah, I know. I just…”

     “There’s plenty more women in the world.”

     “Right.”

     “If you don’t start looking for them they’re going to start looking for you.”

     “I just don’t know if I can get over Cho yet. She really felt like the One.” It was a lie he’d told himself so often that it had lost its bitter taste, sliding off the tongue easily. 

     Ron gave a sympathetic frown. “Sorry, bro.”

     Now they were both sitting there awkwardly, reminding Harry of why he rarely tried to get emotionally deep with Ron. 

     “Want to pack?”

     “Yeah, let’s.”