Blood (thicker than) Water (but what about) Lemonade?

A Dream of Dreams

When Hermione had decided it was time to go downstairs, it had been all too soon for Ron. It had been hard enough convincing her that they were close enough (mentally- not physically) to even try something like snogging.

Then, when she had smiled in the winning way that made even Ron's freckles burn, she had insisted they go somewhere where they wouldn't be interrupted.

And so they'd gone upstairs. And sat on the edge of Ron's bed. And snogged.

Ron had never kissed anyone before, and not counting the peck she'd given Harry a year before, neither had Hermione.

This had made it more awkward than it should have been, but Ron was so absorbed in the fact that he was getting action- from Hermione no less- that he didn't really mind.

Ron being Ron, he hadn't thought to add a little romance into it. He hadn't considered trying to perfect the kiss as it went on, nor to add witty little tidbits between breaths for air. Hermione had wrapped her arms around his neck, but Ron had been so uneasy. He was almost frozen with nervousness that he could only keep his hands tightly clenched at his side.

At least Hermione had seen romantic Muggle movies and had an idea of what was supposed to happen.

Nevertheless, Ron's first kiss had been enjoyable, even if it was only because Hermione had been on the other end.

They came downstairs, Hermione trying to flatten her already untouched hair, and Ron had a sneaking suspicion that she was trying to tell herself it had been passionate and ruffling.

Ron felt his face burning again.

They entered the common room, only to find Harry sitting alone on the couch.

"Harry?" Hermione began 'taming' her hair more vigorously.

"Oh, hullo," Harry said in a strangely strained voice. "Where did you two go?"

Hermione went even more red than Ron and muttered something about finding Avril before leaving the common room through the portrait hole.

Ron sat down beside Harry.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked glumly.

Ron jolted. "What do you mean?" He asked quickly.

Harry gave him a 'pu-leeze' look.

Ron bit his lip. "Oh, it was good- great-really great!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Had a lot of practice there?"

Ron's shoulders slumped. "It was nothing like I've heard Fred and George talking about."

He looked so disappointed, Harry decided to cut him a break and admit something he never would have normally.

"At least you've got action," Harry said, trying to sound a lot less down than he was by using the strange slang that Avril often used.

"Action?" Ron repeated, knowing what Harry meant, but wanting to hear more.

"Avril doesn't want to have anything to do with me," Harry said, staring into the empty fireplace.

"No, really?" Ron sounded awkward, as if he didn't really know what to say. "She thinks this sort of stuff isn't important. The thing is, she's got a really, really good point," Harry said.

Ron nodded, still not knowing how to console his friend. Then he had an idea- "but you're the Boy Who Lived- you ought to be beating her off, Mate!"

All that earned was a sideways glower.

More gently, Ron tried- "she'll come around, Harry. You two are good together. Like me and-" he stopped.

"Hermione?" Harry offered.

"I dunno what we are," Ron admitted, "she's been acting so-"

Harry shrugged. "Now I know what Fred means when he's mad at Angelina- 'women... They don't know what they want'."

Ron nodded in agreement before lapsing into thoughtful silence.

The rest of April went by fast, rainier and muddier than Avril had ever seen in BC.

Then in the common room, she could often be seen gazing longingly at the Quidditch pitch, through the constant drizzle, and could usually be heard muttering "Stupid Europe and its stupid rain..."

That didn't stop her on the 26th, when Gryffindor played Hufflepuff for the rights to the finals. Slytherin, in turn, beat Ravenclaw later that week, making the final two Slytherin versus Gryffindor for the second time in a year.

May came, bringing gifts of flowers and sunshine to Hogwarts. Avril was much cheerier now, and frequently suggested that the four did their homework outside in the sunshine.

Harry nearly always agreed; he was at a point where he wanted Avril to think of him as someone she would want to be around a lot (which she was already (A/N: don't ask me to fathom the way that boy's mind works!)), though Hermione usually preferred to do her homework within the comfort of the library, surrounded by hundreds of reference books, and Ron, keen to have Hermione like him, always went with her.

When it was just Harry and Avril sitting out in the courtyard or by the lake, they avoided touchy subjects, like the event on the sofa, but would occasionally and quietly converse about Voldemort and where he could be at that moment.

They were each getting restless and even a little apprehensive, as Dumbledore wasn't attempting to tell them anything.

"I have to know what's going on," Avril would often say.

"I know, but we also have to wait for Dumbledore to tell us what's going on," Harry would remind her.

But as the Quidditch Finals grew closer and closer, Avril and Harry (along with most of the school) spent hours practicing and training, leaving little time to wonder about Voldemort and Death Eaters.

After one particularly grueling practice, Avril and Harry stumbled into the Common room along with Fred, George and the rest of the team, covered from head to toe with grass stains and dirt, all looking exhausted.

"How was-"

"Don't," Harry lifted a hand to stop Hermione from finishing her sentence.

"Yeah, Hermione. You're good at assessing things. Assess this," Fred added, pointing to his face, which was undoubtedly ready for bed.

Hermione went slightly pink and she mumbled something about being friendly.

Avril fell over onto the couch with a groan. "If you love me, you'll kill me," she groaned to a sixth year she had never spoken to before.

The sixth year rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

"But it was all worth it, right?" Angelina said brightly, looking around the room for support.

"I mean, we're going to flatten Slytherin."

There were mutterings of agreement, and Harry couldn't help but feel cheerful.

Three days later he found himself feeling totally opposite to cheerful.

Instead, his insides were twisting in the familiar way and he regretted having anything to eat that morning.

Avril, of course, had polished off her breakfast and most of his own, as she often did when she was stressed out or nervous.

The weather outside was, typically for a game of such importance, horrible. An un-May like rainstorm had struck, complete with wind, rain and clouds dark enough to limit the sight of everyone on and off the pitch.

Everyone couldn't help but grimace as they looked out into the weather they were supposed to be flying in.

Harry grinned nervously at Avril as they lined up and prepared to fly onto the pitch. She grinned back, though it looked more like a grimace than a smile.

The game began, and the players and their brooms flew into play.

Lee Jordan, commentating once again for the match, could hardly be heard above the howling winds and pounding rain.

Harry hovered above the rest of the team, his keen eyes searching for the Snitch. Hermione had thoughtfully cast his glasses with the familiar water-repelling charm, but that didn't keep him from feeling wet and cold beyond freezing point.

Below, he saw Avril race a Slytherin Chaser for the Quaffle, which had been knocked out of Angelina's hands by a well aimed Bludger.

Avril had her knees pressed tightly on the broom for balance, and her arms were outstretched, reaching for the falling red ball. The wind blew her broom almost sideways, and she had to lean heavily on the front to keep from being blown off course.

The Chaser, which Harry could not quite recognize, was falling behind, his Nimbus 2001 not quite up to speed with Avril's Canadian McNally.

Then, just as Avril was about to wrap her arms around the Quaffle, a blur of silver and green collided into her side, sending Avril spinning off into the stands.

Harry watched, frozen with shock and bitterly cold rain, as Avril, who had totally lost control thanks to the winds and Slytherin Chaser, was tumbling off the pitch in midair, soon disappearing completely into the darkness.

"Avril!" Angelina yelled after her, turning her own broom slightly left to avoid being spun around as well.

Harry, trying valiantly to catch a glimpse of Avril through the rain, flew in the direction where she had disappeared.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a flash of gold.

Not now, his mind thought distractedly, though his Quidditch instincts instantly jerked him to tail the Snitch as it circled the Slytherin hoops.

Harry veered off into the direction of the Snitch, oblivious to what the crowd around him, his fellow Quidditch members, or Avril, wherever she was, was doing.

All that could be heard in his numb-with-cold ears was the screaming of the winds.

Then, though he could hardly feel it because his fingers were also frozen, Harry's fingers enclosed around something small, round and struggling.

He had caught the Snitch. They had won the cup. The clouds cleared away. The sun shone down upon the Quidditch hero and a rainbow arched across the sky.

As Harry flew down toward the crowd of screaming fans and hissing Slytherins, He was weighed down by the rest of his Quidditch team, who were flying down to scream and celebrate with him.

Fred and George were chanting "We're number one! We're number one!"

In the crowd, Harry saw Ron and Hermione in each other's arms, the little red hearts (he saw little red hearts-so what? After all, what was to be held back on this glorious occasion?) floating around them and bursting happily.

The fans swarmed onto the pitch, surrounding the team and lifting Harry onto their shoulders. He still held the Snitch, which had long since given up its struggle.

As Harry was presented the Quidditch Cup, and as he lifted it into the air, grinning as the people around him screamed (and cried) their praise, he realized that this was all he needed. All anyone needed. Friends and allies and family that cared about you, and a happy time from one time to another.

Come and get us Voldemort, Harry thought as Ron and Hermione were carried by the crowd to sit beside him- ("their hand's are everywhere!" from Ron) Do your worst. With my friends, my family, my amazing and impeccable force of fortuity, I can take anything you dish out at me!

And he did. In fact, because Voldemort was so fiercely against anything having to do with Muggles (which in this case included condoms), he ended up having to father the octuplits of a wildly overweight belly dancer from Knockturn Alley (consequences of a long night filled with butterbeer and funny hats). This in mind, he had little or no time to deal with his past obsession of hunting down and killing an insignificant teenager who was just going to out luck him anyway.

Therefore, Harry and his friends lived happily ever after for the rest of their lives, finally able to enjoy the sunsets, smell the flowers, and all in all joy of the world that Voldemort had once shadowed from them with his threats of, at first, rising again, and then after that had happened, killing them all.

Oh, and Avril was never heard of again.

THE END!!!!!

FOREVER!!!!

FINALLY!!!

NEVER AGAIN!!

THANK GOD!