Eternal

    Harry woke up to a pitch black dormitory, his body drenched in sweat. His heart pounded frantically, almost painfully in his chest as though he had just run a long distance. There was an acrid taste in his mouth.

    He sat up and kicked his blankets away, allowing the cold night air to assure him that he was no longer dreaming. Despite this the visions of his dream lingered. He could still see the image of Ron bending down to kiss him. Ron’s hair was vibrant and bright, his eyes twinkling with a confident air that Harry had never seen in his friend before. It was as though Ron was a completely different person all of a sudden.

    Harry knew that Ron had always craved fame. Being the second youngest child in his family, and the youngest boy, Ron had never been given special recognition. His close friendship with Harry only exacerbated that problem. Random articles on Harry still appeared in the Daily Prophet. Witch Weekly had featured the pictures of Harry that spectators at the Tri-Wizard tournament had taken. Students in all the different houses knew Harry’s name. Ron, on the other hand, was lost in the crowd, known only as Harry’s friend, or as yet another Weasley offspring. His only distinctive feature was his flaming red hair.

    Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. How long had Ron felt this way about him? Why had Ron never said anything? Harry wondered if he had come off as arrogant or egotistical, or if Ron had merely presumed that the famous Harry Potter would consider a Weasley beneath him.

    “I hate being famous,” he muttered in a muted voice before turning over and burying his face in his pillow.

    In the bed beside Harry’s, another young man lay in the dark with his eyes open. Ron had been unable to sleep. He had watched Harry return from Occulemency late in the evening, his mind clearly occupied on something besides Ron. Ron could not help but wonder what.

    His stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies swooping in and out. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but only added to the jittery feeling Ron had been experiencing the entire night. Earlier that evening, as he sat by the fire, pretending to flirt with a third year whose name he did not even recall, Ron had berated himself for breaking his silence in such a blunt manner. When he recalled how desperately he had thrown himself at Harry, both in the Great Hall and in the dormitory, he felt a rush of shame, combined with the thrill of excitement. It had been amazing to finally kiss Harry; better then the fantasies he had often constructed in his mind, at any rate. Ron smiled to himself in the darkness, but the grin faded when he recalled how Harry had pulled away. His friend had obviously been shocked, maybe even disgusted.

    Ron reddened when he thought of the desperation his must have shown, lunging after Harry in the dormitory. Harry had obviously been exhausted, and Ron had pushed his way into Harry’s bed, even taken off his shirt. Although Ron tried to convince himself that Harry would have pushed him away if he had really been offended, he could not forget the fact that Harry had fallen asleep moments later. Obviously, he had not been interested in an encounter with Ron.

    Ron frowned and risked a glance at Harry’s bed. Harry was facing away from him, breathing deeply, obviously in deep sleep. He bit his lip. Whatever dreams Harry was having, they were clearly not about Ron. Ron had heard him mumbling something about fame in his sleep. Harry was perhaps dreaming about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or of people gawking at his scar.

    “Why am I such an idiot?” Ron wondered. He should never have said anything. His rash act would likely alienate him from Harry. It would have been smarter to wait, but Ron had been waiting for years now, watching Harry chase after Cho Chang, even suffering through his own sister having a crush on Harry.

    Last year, when Harry had realized that he was over his infatuation with Cho Chang, Ron had been overjoyed. Then when Sirius had died, Ron and Harry had grown even closer. Harry had spent the summer confiding in Ron, and Ron had decided to eventually confide in Harry. He had even planned how, and then he had gone and ruined it, feeling high on his pride in the Great Hall. Had Harry bought the act, or did he think Ron was a pathetic fool, desperate for attention the way Hermione did?

    Hermione. She was another concern of Ron’s. He sighed, thinking of her face when she had watched him in the Great Hall. All he had wanted to do was make her see that he was not just another Weasley brother, another lazy Gryffindor who needed her notes to pass Potions. He had wanted to impress her, but Hermione was not easy to impress. It had backfired. Now she was furious with him, and Harry probably sickened. Embarrassed, Ron threw his blankets over his head, wishing to shut out the world.

“Concentrate!” snapped Snape the next evening, wielding his wand like a sword in Harry’s face. His dark eyes flickered, reflecting candle light. “You must clear your mind of every thought. Focus now.”

    Harry picked himself off of the cold stone floor, feeling the ache and exhaustion in every bone in his body. He had been in the dungeon for a half of an hour, and every attempt Snape had made to read his mind had been successful. The Potions master had been striking out with particular force, invading Harry’s private thoughts before Harry could even develop a decent block.

His mind wandered and for a second Harry could see Ron grinning down at him. Harry’s face blushed hotly. Ron had just been playing a game, trying to impress Hermione, maybe showing off that he was sexy and desirable. There was no way that Ron could actually want Harry, was there? That had to be mere fantasy.

Harry was having an exceedingly difficult time clearing his mind. In fact, his head seemed so full of thoughts that he wondered if he ought to invest in a Pensieve. There were plenty of secrets hidden in his mind that he would like to have hidden from everyone, especially Snape.

    The Potions master stared him down coldly. He tapped his fingers against his wand. "Get up Potter. Five points from Gryffindor, for being insufferable."

    Harry opened his mouth to reply, but the spell hit him a second later. The familiar sensation of drowning filled him, and Harry watched his life flicker by as though watching through a shaky camera. There was Aunt Marge, big and bloated, kicking out her ankle to trip him, smacking him in the knees with a walking cane that closely resembled Dudley's Smeltings Stick. He could almost feel the pain in his shins. She leered down at him, her chins sagging.

Abruptly, the scene changed. Harry could see Hermione, glaring furiously at Ron, who was dressed in his dragon skin pants, flirting with girls. Hermione had tears on her face, and Harry felt a wrenching sadness for her. She looked at him, her expression miserable, and said -

    "For Merlin's sake, Potter, can't you do anything right?"

    Snape glared as he reached forward to help Harry off of the floor. Harry shook his head, trying to focus. Occulemency made it quite difficult to live in the present. He took Snape's hand and allowed himself to be jerked off of the cold floor.

    "I need a bit of a break," Harry admitted, rubbing his head. He had smacked down onto the floor again, he guessed, judging from Snape's expression. The teacher was obviously amused in spite of himself, something which only happened when someone was hurt, or in serious trouble. Snape's eyes glinted coldly at Harry as he walked slightly away from the teacher, frowning.

    Snape folded his arms across his chest, which made him look quite imposing. "Of course, Potter. I'll just sit here and wait for you. I have all evening, after all, to waste on this pointless pursuit." His sarcasm was ill disguised, and Harry turned reluctantly back to his teacher. Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'll take five additional points from Gryffindor for your arrogance. Now, if you're ready..."

    Harry nodded curtly and resumed his position, standing several feet from Snape. His closed fist gripped his wand tightly, and he closed his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts. The momentary fantasy of Snape, bouncing about the Potions classroom as a ferret, flitted across his mind, and then all went dark.

    In an instant, the black void that had been Harry's mind transformed into a very familiar scene, the Great Hall. Harry saw himself sitting with Hermione while Ron sauntered over, full of self-confidence. His friend walked with a strut that would have suited Gilderoy Lockhart, and smiled. The sensation of Ron's lips on Harry's own returned, complete with the feeling of warmth from Ron's mouth.

    Then the scenery of the Great Hall gave way to the bed in Harry's dormitory. The hangings rippled closed, sending Harry and Ron into darkness. The feel of Ron's skin on Harry's made him shiver.

    Suddenly Harry realized that Snape was reading his thoughts, these thoughts. Harry struck out with his wand, shouting "Expelliarmus," which was all he could recall in his dazed state. The darkened bed vanished and was replaced with the dungeon walls.

    Snape was standing against the wall, staring at Harry with something like shock apparent in his expression. His mouth hung open slightly, revealing very white teeth, and his eyes were wide and stunned. His wand was abandoned at his feet, apparently forgotten.

    Harry bit his lip as ideas and excuses raced through his mind. Had Snape really seen him and Ron? Cursing himself silently for not owning a Pensieve for occasions such as these, Harry cast his eyes on the floor. His face burned in humiliation.

    Snape recovered himself quite quickly. He cleared his throat and bent to retrieve his wand. Harry risked a quick glance and saw Snape eyeing him curiously.

    "Well, well, well," Snape said in a low voice.

    Harry looked at him, feeling his heart sink. He tried, unsuccessfully, to explain. "I, we,"

    Snape waved the words away with a gesture. "I am not interested in the details of your sexual exploits, Potter. Especially in exploits you've committed with Weasley." He shuddered dramatically, still smirking. "Now I know why you and Weasley were absent from Potions, at any rate."

    "It's not what you think," Harry insisted.

    Snape smirked. "I see." He looked quite unconvinced.

    "This is the first time anything like this has happened," Harry gasped, wishing that he could sink into the floor. The idea of leaving the school, emptying his Gringott's vault and vanishing seemed suddenly appealing. Harry shifted under Snape's intense stare.

    "Your first time, and you wasted it on a Weasley?" Snape grimaced. "Of all the lovely young ladies, and men, that populate this school, you chose Ron Weasley?"

    Harry rolled his eyes. "Nothing happened." He gritted his teeth, refusing to allow thoughts of Ron to drift into his head. He forced himself to think of his Transfiguration homework instead.

    Snape cocked an eyebrow, sneering. "Nothing? Lying alone in the dormitory, in the dark, nude, and nothing happened? I'm disappointed in you, Potter. I would have expected more excitement from a risk taker like you."

    "Why am I even discussing this with you?" Harry demanded angrily. Snape normally would take any chance to humiliate Harry, but never had the Potions master shown the least interest in Harry's life. Blackmail, Harry decided, and narrowed his eyes at Snape.

    Snape uttered a hollow laugh that did not sound remotely amused. Snape's tone was as emotionless as when he was uttering a formula in Potions. "Occulemency is interesting in that way. You find your most intimate thoughts shared with the person you least expected."

    "Like when I saw your memory, with my father, by the lake?" Harry asked fiercely. If there was anything more uncomfortable then discussing his encounter with Ron, it was discussing said encounter with Snape. Harry was loathe to remind him of the previous years incident, but he needed to let Snape know they both had uncomfortable memories.

    Instead of looking perturbed however, Snape laughed, shocking Harry. "Oh, Potter, you haven't even scraped the surface with me."

    Harry stared brazenly at the Potion's master. Snape looked back at him, cold and calculating. Harry had a sinking feeling that Snape was telling the truth. A former Death Eater had darker secrets, obviously, then unhappy childhood memories.

    "If you're recovered, we can resume our lesson," Snape said pointedly. His tone was impossible to read. He stepped back, allowing Harry some space.

    Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to push Ron Weasley from his mind.     He concentrated on thinking of nothing except emptiness. The scenes in his mind faded.

    Snape resumed the spell. Harry winced as he saw the bed hangings close, and paused for a fleeting moment before he pushed back, fighting Snape's invasion of his mind. He concentrated on closing off his own thoughts, envisioning a door slamming shut. Panting, he sealed off his mind as he pressed into Snape's.

    Delving into Snape's mind was easier then it had ever been. Instead of that sensation of breaking, Harry slipped easily from his thoughts to Snape's own. It was almost as if Snape put up no resistance at all.

    The image of Snape and Professor Lupin filled his mind. Snape, leaning in to kiss Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor glanced up at Snape. There was a flicker, and Harry found himself holding his wand absently by his side.

    He clutched his wand, looking at Snape curiously. The Potions master never made anything easy.

    "It's growing late," said Snape in a soft voice. "You may go."

    Surprised, Harry gaped at the Professor. "I don't have to be going yet," he said finally. "We can finish our lesson."

    Snape's expression was resolute. "It is growing quite late," he repeated, turning away from Harry. "Get your rest. You shall need it for tomorrow."

    "What's tomorrow?" Harry asked, feeling a familiar thrill in his stomach.

    Snape glanced back and smirked. He looked at Harry with an amused expression. "Potions, of course. You missed our review on antidotes. I'll have to put you through the paces tomorrow. Perhaps I'll test you. "

    "And Occulemency?"

    "Of course. Goodnight now, Potter." Snape turned away and moved around the room, blowing out the candles slowly. His wand was stowed back in his robes, and he did not use any magic.

    Harry stepped out of the Potions classroom feeling weighted down by a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was confused. Why had Snape allowed Harry into his mind with such ease? It certainly was no reflection on Harry's skill. Snape had let his guard down. Had he wanted Harry to see his memory, perhaps so Harry would grow to distrust Remus Lupin? Lupin was Harry's closest adult confidant, since Sirius was gone. It would be just like Snape to try and destroy that trust for nothing more then vindictive pleasure.

    Harry made a sour expression as he walked away from the dungeons. He had actually started to like Snape, as much as anyone could like Snape anyway. Although he was not overjoyed to have Occulemency, he had started to respect Snape. He was harsh, yes, but Harry had grown accustomed to that. It was just Snape's way. Now Harry was convinced that the Potion's master was just toying with him, trying to make him feel as unstable as ever.

     When he arrived in the common room moments later, he saw Ron studying Divination before the fire with Lavender Brown. Sparing Ron just a quick glance, Harry went up the stairs. His heart sank. Ron was obviously not interested in him if he was still flirting with Lavender. It had been a game.

    Ron watched Harry go, his expression blank. He slammed the book shut, crushing his star chart. Lavender looked up at him, curious.

    "Did you finish your chart?" she asked.

    "Er," Ron started to reply, but then he shrugged and gathered up his books and parchment. He did not bother to say goodnight to Lavender as he went up the stairs after Harry. Lavender stayed behind with her Divination books, looking puzzled.

    Ron felt tension moving through his muscles, causing him to twitch. Harry had brushed right by without even a greeting. Ron wondered if Harry was disgusted with him, or just disinterested. Perhaps Harry was trying to let Ron down easy.

    The dormitory was empty, save for Harry, who was sprawled on his bed with his arms over his head. Ron wanted to sit down beside Harry, but spared himself that humiliation and settled down on his own bed. He missed the disappointed expression that flickered across Harry's face for an instant, and when he looked again at Harry, his friends face was impassive.

    "Harry. Er, have a nice time at Occulemency?" Ron asked, forcing jovial good cheer. He tried to grin.

    Harry did not look over, and Ron felt his heart sink. He bit at his lip nervously. "It was all right," Harry answered. He was still a bit upset with Professor Snape, and wondered what the Potions master was up to. Then he looked over at Ron, surprised. He had been expecting Ron to stay downstairs with Lavender. "How about you? Studying go all right?"

    Ron nodded. "Yes, Lavender is really good at Divination. It makes a lot more sense now too, with Firenze."

    "I suppose it would," answered Harry, who was not taking Divination any longer. He felt a spike of jealousy as he thought of Lavender Brown, sharing a table with Ron, and had to remind himself that Ron was not interested in him.

    Ron shifted. "Er, about the other day Harry...," he started to say, trying to think of some logical excuse and failing miserably.

    Harry nodded. "Yes, I know. It was just a game." He forced his voice to sound happy and relaxed, as though inside he was not suffering tremendous embarrassment.

    "Oh," Ron muttered. He took a deep breath, feeling wounded. "I hope that you understand, it was just a mistake," he lied.

    "A mistake," Harry repeated hollowly. He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing as the heat rushed to his face. Of course Ron did not want him. Harry felt stupid for ever having hoped.

    Ron stood up and looked down at Harry. Harry's eyes were blank; he was obviously bored with the conversation. Ron cleared his throat and forced himself to grin. "I'm off on a date then. I'll see you later."

    Harry mumbled something non-committal and looked away, pretending to busy himself by storing his wand in his trunk. He did not watch as Ron combed his hair, and in fact did not look up until he was certain that Ron was gone. Then he wandered back down the stairs, considering a walk.

    Hermione was in the common room, clutching her heavy load of text books and looking very out of sorts. Her hair was bushier then ever and looked as if she had not brushed it in some time. She gave Harry a weary smile. "I wanted to wait until he was gone."

    Harry knew who she was referring to. "He's gone. He's off on a date."

    Hermione looked surprised. "A date? Still! With who? Not those twins?"

    Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. I didn't ask him. Why?"

    "Well," Hermione said, blushing. "I sort of thought maybe, after what happened, you two had something going on."

    "Us?" Harry scoffed, trying to cover his resentment. "No, there is nothing between us. Ron and I are just friends, nothing more."

    "Oh, okay," Hermione said, shrugging. "I just thought that, with what happened at lunch maybe there was something else going on. You can tell me, Harry. I won't tell anyone."

    Running his fingers through his hair, Harry momentarily considered confiding in Hermione. Then he decided against it. It was too risky, not to mention embarrassing. The famous Harry Potter, admitting that he had a crush on his best friend, a friend who did not happen to return those feeling? It was much smarter to save face.

    Forcing himself to laugh heartily, Harry sat in one of the comfortable chairs near the fire. "Me, interested in Ron Weasley? No, Hermione, there is not a chance of that happening."

    "But when he kissed you yesterday, I noticed that you didn't tell him to stop," Hermione pressed, blushing.

    "I was taken by surprise. There wasn't time for me to react," Harry lied emphatically. "I was thinking about Sirius and all of a sudden, there he was, forcing himself on me."

    Hermione nodded. "It was pretty shocking, Ron with all those girls."

    "I notice you're not so upset anymore," Harry said. "Did you two talk?"

    "And interrupt his fan club? No way," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm just not letting him get to me anymore."

    "You aren't, er, upset about what happened the other day are you?" Harry asked, the thought having just crossed his mind.

    Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Harry. Now, are you going to study? I really need to get to work on my antidote for tomorrow."

    Harry smacked his head. "That's right! I forgot about it. I have to work on it too. Let me get my books."

    He hurried up to the dormitory and retrieved his books from the trunk. From the window he could see a full moon and a sky sprinkled with stars. He forced himself not to resent whomever Ron was dating. It was a beautiful night.

    Something caught his eye; a glint of moonlight on the lake. He looked down by the edge of the water and saw a figure sitting alone on the bank, skipping stones across the smooth water. Despite the darkness Harry could make out distinctive red hair. It was Ron.

    Harry forced himself to step away from the window. Ron was probably meeting his date out by the water. It would be a great night to meet by the lake and watch the stars.

    When Harry returned to the common room he found Hermione browsing through three immense texts. He dropped his own Potions book on the table with a bang, causing her to jump.

     "So, what did we do in Potions today?" Harry asked.

    Hermione sighed. "Antidotes, Harry, I told you already. Snape said he is going to give us a poison and we have to test our antidote. It's a bit serious."

    "What's the poison?" Harry wanted to know.

    "Something that kills," Hermione answered, wincing. "He would not tell us what it was. He said that would be too easy!"

    "Too easy?" Harry echoed, disbelieving. That was just like Snape. He resigned himself to spending a very long evening studying with Hermione, and pushed any thoughts of Ron from his mind.