Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 7

Snogging 101

"A kiss, when all is said, what is it? A rosy dot placed on the "I" in loving; Tis a secret told to the mouth instead of to the ear." --Edmond Rostand

***

There was a nip in the late evening air, a shivery reminder of the winter to come. Harry hung suspended in the center of the Quidditch Pitch, just sitting on his broom, gazing about. He loved flying for the way it added a dimension to his world. The sky was open, the aching blue a precursor of shortening days and cooling nights. Harry breathed in, holding the air in his lungs for a long moment, savoring the fresh taste of it.

In these moments, a hundred feet above the ground and with a world of possibilities quite literally spread about him, he could find a peace that eluded him on the ground. He couldn't feel the nearly constant upset of his stomach, couldn't hear Malfoy's sneering voice, or see Crouch's cramped script spelling out his doom. It was just blue sky and him, supported only by a little piece of enchanted wood, perched above it all.

"Harry!"

He nearly fell off his broom, but managed to regain his balance just in time. Glancing down, he saw the twins hovering about ten meters below him, their hair outlined

in a halo of fire by the setting sun. Farther below, little black spots on the green carpet of the pitch, the rest of the team waited.

"Dinner time?" he called, beginning a lazy spiral down towards them.

"Righto. And it's spaghetti night."

"What were you doing up there anyway?" The other twin turned his broom to pace Harry in his slow descent to the ground.

"Just thinking. And relaxing. It was a long practice." Harry flexed his shoulders, and then bent to touch his toes as they reached the ground. Moody's exercise classes were intense, but Harry had added his own touches. He ran about the lake on most mornings, and then went back and did sit-ups and push-ups in his dorm. His upper body was nothing but a mass of sore and aching muscles, but it couldn't dampen his growing sense of accomplishment as his body slowly, painfully adjusted to the new demands.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Angelina grinned down at him.

"You voted for me," Harry retorted, slinging his broom over his shoulder and following the rest of the team back to the locker rooms to clean up. It really

had been a grueling practice, and they all bore signs of it.

As he walked, he listened, smiling to himself. The twins were a little behind him, alternately trading prank ideas and discussing how nice the Chasers looked when they "were all sweaty." The girls themselves walked before Harry, Ginny amongst them though she did not participate in the conversation. Harry's grin widened as he caught the topic of their discussion.

"Really. Like I wouldn't notice. Fred swore he had nothing to do with it, but of course I didn't believe him." Angelina tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder.

"It's typical, thinking you wouldn't notice." Katie sighed, and Harry could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"Sure they're identical, but honestly! I've been dating Fred since Christmas last year. You'd think they'd know I would realize they'd switched twins on me," Angelina continued as the girls entered their locker room.

Harry stifled an amused snort. That did sound like something the twins would try. Harry himself could almost never distinguish the Weasley twins, but he would hope Angelina could.

Speaking of a twin...

Harry stopped outside the locker room, allowing Gred and Forge to pass him and enter the building. He waited a moment, squinting towards the castle. He

could have sworn he'd seen--yes, there she was. Padma jogged lightly across the front lawn then around the pitch, finally skidding to a stop beside Harry.

"Ooo, you're all sweaty," she said, waving a hand before her face.

Harry wondered if that meant the twins sort of all sweaty or just the normal person all sweaty. Deciding it would be better not to ask, he just smiled at her. "We on for tomorrow night?"

"You bet. Same time and place?"

"Yes Ma'am." Harry saluted briskly and Padma shoved him towards the locker room.

"Go on with you. And bring your Potions text tomorrow. Snape said we have a quiz."

"Sure." Harry waved over his shoulder at his study buddy and then ducked into the locker room. He and Padma had been meeting regularly all month. It was now the second week in October, and the term was in full, somewhat overwhelming swing. The two of them would meet in the library, or sometimes out by the lake on warm afternoons, to read their texts to each other, or just to talk. Her company was both soothing and stimulating, in ways he tried not to think about most of the time. He had carefully pushed aside all concerns for her safety. After all, Voldemort had yet to make a single move since the attack on Privet Drive. Harry really couldn't be expected to keep that promise he'd made when all he wanted was a new friend, could he? Harry carefully ignored the inner snort of amusement at that thought and just stripped off his gear and hit the shower.

***

Harry couldn't keep the excited grin off his face as he settled in the library at their usual table. He pulled out his Potions text, as well as quill and parchment. It was much like the ritual he went through before each class. Except learning with Padma was much more fun.

"Hey, you." She slid into the seat beside him, pulling out her own supplies.

"Hullo. How was your day?"

"Alright. The usual, mostly."

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away as she pushed the fall of glossy dark hair back from her face. "Um, yeah," he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Anyway, Snape said about that quiz, that he would be including at least--"

"Well, look what we have here." An all-too-familiar sneer cut across Padma's light voice.

Padma dropped her book with a clatter, and she and Harry exchanged a look before turning to face the intruder.

"Did you want something, Malfoy?" Harry asked calmly. He well remembered how infuriated it made the Slytherin when he wouldn't rise to the other's bait.

"Oh, lots."

Harry didn't like the way Malfoy's icy grey eyes flicked to Padma when he said that. Didn't like it at all.

"Oh?" He was dismayed to hear the strain in his own voice, and from the flash of triumph, Malfoy had as well.

"Just wondering why a lovely little thing like this," he flicked a finger at Padma, "Is wasting her assuredly valuable time with the Gryffindork Captain of the Orphan club?"

Harry opened his mouth, not really sure what he was going to say but devoutly hoping it would be witty and cutting, but he was saved by Padma's now not so soft Alto. "I'm not wasting my time with Harry, Malfoy. You, however, are cutting in on our admittedly small amount of alone time. So kindly go get lost in the stacks." She turned away dismissively, her hair swinging.

"Alone time?" Malfoy pounced on the phrase like a ferret on a tasty morsel. "So, its alone time, now? Last time I checked it was called just screwing in the stacks."

Harry dug his nails into his palms nearly hard enough to draw blood, his ears pounding with rage. "Not that it's any of your business," he ground out, "but Padma and I are just friends."

"Pity." There was that look again, the one that made Harry want to rip his eyes out so they couldn't crawl all over Padma anymore. "There are plenty of other more ... worthy men about willing to take up the slack there, for you Potter." He licked his lips suggestively.

"Why you--" Harry leaped to his feet, reaching for his wand. To his eternal surprise, and some delight, Malfoy took a quick step backwards, lifting his own hands in what was almost a placating gesture.

"Now, Potter. No need to get all macho on me. Just making an observation." He glanced past Harry at Padma once again. "Just remember that, sweetheart, when you get tired of being 'just friends' with Potter." And with that he turned and slipped away into the stacks, just a flicker of silvery blonde hair around a corner and then nothing.

"Git," Harry muttered, scowling after the Slytherin.

"Oh, let it be." Padma rose and placed a hand gently on his arm. "Malfoy's just a child who wants too badly to be a man."

Harry looked down at her, distracted. "You know, you're one of the few people I know who could say something like that without sounding pompous."

She laughed, squeezing his arm. "Come on." She tugged at him gently. "Let's not let Malfoy ruin our study time. Potions tests stop for no one, after all."

"Too true." Harry followed her dutifully back to his seat, and just as dutifully reviewed the properties and preparation of about fifteen potions with her. Yet his mind was not on Wormwood and Minnok Root. Instead it was replaying Malfoy's words and his own burst of nearly uncontrollable anger. He tried to think like Padma, analytically examining emotion and motivation from without. But all he got was a slight throbbing behind his eyes and even more confused than before.

By the time the library closed and they had to return to their common rooms, he had come to only one conclusion. He was badly out of his depth and

he needed help.

***

"God dammit!"

Harry froze, mouth half open in a greeting. He just stood there for a moment, gawking at her. She obviously didn't know he was there as she scowled in a remarkably Snapelike manner at her Arithmancy text. As she let out her little explosion, she slammed said text shut with enough force to startle half the common room.

"Uh, Hermione?" he said timidly. He'd rarely seen the composed Hermione in such a mood, and he really didn't know how to handle this.

She spun around, still scowling. But as soon as she saw him, her thunderous expression melted away and a blush stained her cheeks. "Er, hi Harry." She fussed with her robes, not looking at him.

"Is everything...okay?" He rolled his eyes at himself. It obviously wasn't, but here he was spouting out useless inanities.

"I guess." She turned to face him as he tentatively took the seat beside her. Luckily for them, Hermione's usual study spot was in the corner of the common room furthest from the fire, and thus the main crowd of students.

"You're not having trouble with your work, are you?" It wasn't really even a valid question, but Harry figured a little indignation might just knock Hermione out of this disturbing mood.

He was apparently mistaken, for her face crumpled and she looked like she might burst into tears. "I--I can't--"

"Okay, okay." Harry scooted closer and placed a careful arm about her. If there was one thing neither he nor Ron ever wanted to see it was a crying Hermione. It invariably led to blushing and then more crying and it was all just bad. "I'm sure it's just fine. I mean, everybody has a hard time with studies once in a while."

"Not me," she practically wailed, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "I've never had problems."

"Well, there's a first time for everything?" Harry tried hopefully, knowing all along it wouldn't help. Hermione just sniffled. "Look," he said quickly, before the tears could really get going, "What exactly is the problem? Is it a specific subject? 'Cause, you know, I'm sure any of the professors would be more than happy to help you out if you had a problem."

"That's just it." She straightened up, and seemed to be regaining her composure as she explained. "It's all the subjects. I just can't concentrate." She waved despairingly at the abused Arithmancy book. "I've read the same page four times and I still don't understand. I've been making up these stupid mnemonic devices and color coding my notes and nothing is helping."

"I really don't know what to tell you. Unless you're sick or something?"

"No. I feel fine. Just all muddled." She tapped her temple mournfully.

"Oh." Harry frowned, truly at a loss. "I'm sorry," he added, uncomfortably.

"It's alright." Practical Hermione returned and Harry breathed an inner sigh of relief as she began to stack and put away her work. "Anyway, how was your studying with Padma?"

"I actually came over here to talk to you about that." It was Harry's turn to blush a little. "You know how you asked me about Ron?" Hermione tensed, but just nodded. "Well, I need to ask your help with Padma."

Oh?" She stopped what she was doing and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you see..." And Harry launched into a description of Malfoy's unwelcome interruption and what he'd said.

"And you're worried because it made you angry?" Hermione looked a bit confused.

"Yeah. And...I think...Padma's really nice and she's pretty and fun to talk to and--"

"Okay, okay." Hermione paused a moment, biting her lip. "You wouldn't mind dating her."

"Right." Harry was relieved she'd said it so he wouldn't have to.

"Then what's the problem? So Malfoy made you angry. He insulted the girl you like rather nastily right in front of you." She appeared perplexed, which was an odd look on her.

"Well, I don't want . . .she could get hurt or worse if I . . .Voldemort is . . ." Harry banged his forehead down on the table, completely exasperated with his own inarticulateness.

A soft hand stroked the back of his head then turned it gently so he was looking sideways and up at Hermione. "Oh, Harry." Her voice had gone soft and tender, and Harry saw a hint of moisture in her eyes. Oh no, he thought, now she's going to cry anyway. But she didn't. She just leaned over until they were looking eye to eye. "Harry Potter, you are a very selfless, very brave person." Harry blushed. "And you're also very stupid." He pouted at her and she giggled a little.

"Not stupid," he said, sitting up. "I might not always think things through, but that doesn't mean I can't when I want to."

"Yes you are. Tell me something. When you're with Padma, just studying or talking or whatever, how do you feel?"

I feel," Harry paused, really considering the question. "I feel warm inside. Comfortable usually, but sometimes when I look at her it's not so comfortable anymore."

Hermione's lips twitched. "Oh, I think that's just part of being who you are."

"Why would me being Harry Potter have anything to do with--"

Hermione cracked up completely, taking her turn to thump her head down onto the table. Harry just sat it out, feeling his pout returning. He had the strong impression that the joke was at his expense. "Well, you have no worries about Padma agreeing to date you," Hermione finally said, calming herself. "You're just too cute for words."

"I--" Harry sputtered, completely lost.

"I meant that you're a fifteen-year-old boy. Of course you feel uncomfortable sometimes when you look at her." For just a moment, a flash of sadness, of longing crossed her face. "She is very beautiful, after all," she added softly.

"Yes, she is." Harry watched her, confused. "Why am I stupid, again?"

"Just because you don't seem to realize, even after all this time, Harry, if someone cares about you, no matter how hard you try to push them away, they'll just keep coming back. " She leaned close, her face suddenly intense. "You don't seem to understand that Ron and I, and Snuffles and Dumbledore and lots of other people, we care about you, Harry. And being close to you is part of caring. If Padma cares for you, which I think she really does by the way, she won't be making decisions based on your life expectancy or the Dark Lord. She'll make decisions based on how she feels about you." She stopped, frowning a little embarrassedly. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Another Toastmaster." Harry grinned halfheartedly before returning to the subject at hand. He cast his eyes downward, dragging the words out of himself with an effort. "I made a promise to myself this summer. Right when I got back to the Dursleys. I promised I wouldn't let--let what happened to Cedric and to Cho ever happen again. Padma, I could--"

His voice was smothered in the mass of Hermione's hair as she wrapped her arms around him. He sputtered for a moment, getting the curly strands stuck in his mouth before just burrowing into the soft mass. She smelled of sweet shampoo and the library stacks, and her breath was warm on his neck as she spoke. "Harry, you are stupid. Weren't you listening to me?" Her arms tightened convulsively around him. "We chose to be near you, to be your friends or more. Padma needs to choose. You can't make up her mind for her, it's not fair."

"I know." Harry didn't want to move. Hermione smelled of friend and confidante and protector, of long nights spent teaching him and Ron an entire term of Potions, of Shrieking Shacks and summoning charms and giant chess games. "I guess I'm just a coward."

To Harry's dismay, she pulled away, ruffling his hair. "Oh, I'd think that that is the last thing anyone would call you."

"Even if the very thought of asking Padma out on a date makes me want to go hide up in the dorm and never come out?"

"That just makes you human." Her tone was jaunty, but her face grave. "Because sometimes I've wondered."

Harry leaned away, suddenly unnerved. "Um, thank you, Hermione. I needed--"

"A good talking to?" She cut him off, smile back in place.

"Whatever you say." Harry rose, stretching as he did. "I think it's time for all little Harrys to be off to bed. You going?"

The lines of strain which had smoothed themselves out during the conversation returned en force. "No. I'll just take another look at this Arithmancy. Maybe the break will have helped." She didn't sound too hopeful.

"Don't run yourself ragged." Harry frowned down at her, remembering all too well her exhausted face and hunched shoulders their third year.

"Yes Mum." She opened her book, flipping the pages to her spot and beginning to read.

Harry stood there a moment, just watching her eyes narrow in concentration and her lips purse. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She didn't even look up.

"I meant it. Thanks."

She did raise her eyes then, and gave him that rarely seen, full front teeth smile. "Of course. Only fair."

"Sure." Harry turned away and headed up the boys stairs. He had some plans to make and some courage and resolve to bolster up.

***

They met again two days later. Harry had sent her a note via Hedwig saying only that he wanted to meet somewhere other than the library and that he had something to tell her.

He made sure to get there early. Dinner had just finished and the sun was setting in a spectacular display of reds and golds. The light caught and danced on the lake, playing games of sparkle and illusion with the senses. It looked romantic. Or at least Harry hoped it did.

He spread his thick winter cloak out on the ground, then carefully spoke the words of a warming spell. It got cold fast when winter was approaching, and the sun would be gone soon.

He turned away to check for any other students out. He couldn't see any and he turned back to the cloak...and nearly had a heart attack. Little wisps of smoke curled up from the edges and he could smell singed fabric. Harry hit the thing with a freezing charm, grimacing as ice crystals formed around the edges.

"A little over-enthusiastic, there," he admonished himself. He tried it again, this time speaking softly and moving his wand minimally. He studied the cloak carefully, then prodded it. It seemed to be alright. He performed a quick cleansing charm, hoping to clear away any remaining smoke. So much for the perfect setting.

Then he just settled down on the cloak, wishing he'd thought to swing by the greenhouses and nab some flowers. He made a mental note to find out how to conjure them--how to conjure period. It really sounded like an interesting thing to learn, not to mention a skill worth--oh God he was starting to think like Hermione! And now he was babbling in his own head and what if she didn't come or he couldn't remember what he'd planned to say or someone came along or--

"Hi, Harry." Padma appeared at his shoulder, dropping down beside him and sighing at the warmth of the cloak.

Harry smiled with relief. At least he'd gotten something right. "Hey," he said, as casually as he could manage.

She studied him a moment, frowning slightly. "Is everything alright? You said you needed to talk and it sounded sort of ominous."

"Oh, no not wrong." 'Not yet, at least,' he added mentally. "I just wanted to talk to you about Malfoy . . .what he said and stuff."

"Malfoy?" She tilted her head quizzically, and Harry drew in a sharp breath as the last slivers of the sun flashed in flickers of dark red he'd never seen in her hair before. "What about Malfoy?"

"Well, what he said. About us, you know. I was hoping you weren't offended or anything." Oh dear. That wasn't how he'd intended to start at all.

"By Malfoy?" She laughed lightly. "Malfoy does his best to offend. But no, I wasn't." She paused, giving him that studying look again. "But even if I were, its not like you would have to apologize for him or anything. What's going on?"

"Malfoy implied that we were--that is he said that you--oh, hold on a second." Harry dropped his face into his hands, his cheeks burning against his fingers. He took several deep breaths and regained control of his thoughts with an iron grip. Lifting his head and squaring his shoulders, he looked straight at Padma. "Malfoy more than implied that you and I were together. Well, more like..." He stumbled, never having even said the word out loud before. "Shagging."

Padma nodded, and Harry wasn't sure how to interpret the tiny smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "Yes he did."

"ER, well I was wondering. It made me think, what he said. If you would like to, I would be very happy. Be together, not shag," he added quickly.

"You really want to be with me?" A slightly wondering smile spread across Padma's face.

"Yes, I do." Harry smiled back tentatively. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course it is." She reached out and clasped his hand in her own. Harry gripped back, feeling a little lightheaded.

They were silent for a few moments, just holding hands and watching the lake darken from a light aquamarine to a darkly shadowed blue. Harry wondered if Padma was having as hard a time thinking of something to say as he was. But he honestly couldn't find the energy to care too much. Padma's hand was warm in his own, her fingers slender as they twined with his. He didn't know how she did it, but somehow without his noticing she'd slipped up close to him and rested her head on his shoulder. That fall of bright dark hair trailed heavily over his own shoulder and he reached carefully to touch it, then wrap the soft strands around his fingers.

"Well," he finally said, "I think this is the first time I owe Malfoy thanks."

He could feel Padma's laugh against his shoulder. She turned her head and looked up at him. "Was it really what he said that brought this on?" she asked.

"Well, sort of. I'd been thinking things for a while. But when he treated you like that it just made me so mad." Harry grimaced at the memory.

"It's funny, that sort of thing usually doesn't happen to me," she said, squeezing his hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, its usually Parvati the boys treat like that. Like an object." It was her turn to grimace. "I don't understand it, but she seems to take it as some sort of compliment."

"Maybe Malfoy thought you were Parvati?" Harry suggested. "You do look the same."

"Yes, but I think you well know that we're quite different on the inside." She shifted and looked up at him again. "Would you be sitting here like this with Parvati?"

Harry made a face. "Erm, no thank you. I'm quite happy with the Patil I'm with right now."

"You know, you're remarkably charming when you don't try too hard," she said, moving a little closer.

"I am?" Harry asked with interest. He leaned in as well, praying he was reading this right.

"Definitely," she whispered just before their lips met.

Kissing was nice, Harry decided. It was warm and moist and tongues were really neat things. Padma tasted like the mint tea they sometimes served after dinner, and her lips were pliable and soft beneath his. Definitely nice.

Harry just couldn't suppress a frisson of disappointment. From everything he'd overheard in the boys dorm and the Quidditch locker room, he'd gotten the impression that kissing was spectacular, something fantastic and mind shattering. This was fine, but it didn't rearrange his world. He could still feel the bite of the cooling breeze, the heat of his cloak beneath him.

Oh well, Harry decided a few moments later. It was only my first kiss. Maybe it takes practice. He doubted that either he or Padma would mind putting in the practice time, and really there was nothing to complain about. Nice, very nice.

***

Harry slipped in through the portrait hole, trying very hard to keep the stupid grin off his face. It had been a lovely few hours by the lake with Padma. They had only retreated into the castle when the chill of the growing night became too much. They had been involved in an ever-lengthening goodnight snog when Professor Flitwick had found them and politely but firmly shooed them back to their houses. But all in all, it had been a nice night.

Harry frowned to himself. There was that word again. He put getting a thesaurus on his ever-growing list of things to do. It was high time he expanded his vocabulary. Especially now, he added, that I'm dating a Ravenclaw.

He glanced about, spotting his friends over in Hermione's usual corner. Ron looked a little annoyed to be away from the lively chess tournament being held by the fire, but Hermione had her determined face on, and Ron knew when to just shut up and take it.

"So you just say 'Abscondo' and then fill in the noun. And be sure to flick your wrist like I've been showing--" She broke off abruptly as Harry approached and looked eagerly at him. "Well?"

Harry stopped trying to suppress his silly grin. Hermione squealed in a very un-Hermionelike manner and jumped up to give him a hug.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She squeezed him tight for a moment then stepped back, squinting oddly at him.

"Uh, guys?" Ron asked.

"Heron James Potter!" Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared menacingly. "You have a hickey!"

Harry's hand flew to his neck, searching for the offending bit of skin. "I do? Where?"

"Hickey?" Ron looked incredulous. "You've been snogging?"

"Well, of course he's been snogging." Harry caught the exasperated look Hermione threw Ron. "How else do you get a hickey?"

Ron shrugged, looking abashed. "Snogging who?"

"Padma." Harry cursed inwardly as his cheeks heated under Ron's scrutiny.

His friend let out a low whistle. "Well. Beauty and brains. Anything and everything a man could want." He looked impressed.

"Uh, yeah." Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione. She stood a foot away, her previous excitement completely covered by the half irritated, half hurt expression on her face. Sighing, he turned back to Ron. "Look, I'm tired. And you and Hermione looked like you were busy."

"Yes we were." Hermione returned to the table, busying herself with her Charms notes.

"Oh, forget that." Ron flicked his fingers dismissively. "What's snogging like, Harry?"

"It's, erm, nice?"

Hermione snorted.

Ron frowned. "Nice? That's it? Not 'spine-tingling' or anything like that?"

"Oh, really!" Hermione glared at them both. "Like every first kiss is some fairy tale experience."

Ron swung around to her, his expression intent. "How would you know?" he demanded.

Hermione snorted again, but Harry could see a rare flush creeping up on her cheeks. "You really don't think I've never snogged anybody, do you, Ron?"

"You . . .you snogged . . ." Ron looked half furious, half crushed. "Who?" he finally asked.

"Viktor, of course." Hermione still wouldn't look up, and her Charms notes looked like they couldn't be stacked more neatly if McGonagall tried.

"Oh," was all Ron said.

Hermione finally looked up at him, but it was Ron's turn to avoid her eyes. A flash of guilt crossed her face, and she looked pleadingly up at Harry.

"Uh, Ron, why don't we--" Harry started.

"I'm tired." Ron stood up and turned away as if he hadn't heard, which he probably hadn't judging by the intensely morose look on his face. "I'm going up to bed."

Hermione groaned and let her head fall onto the table. Harry sat down in Ron's vacated chair, awkwardly patting Hermione's shoulder.

"I'm beginning to understand why neither Parvati nor Lavender has a boyfriend," she said into her arms.

Harry chuckled softly, but they both could tell his heart wasn't in it. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know." She sat up and then bent to retrieve her school bag. "It's all so muddled."

"When is Viktor coming?"

"A little before Christmas." She brightened. "Maybe there'll be another ball."

Somehow, Harry really didn't think that would help, but he kept his observations to himself. "Well," he finally said, "you kind of need to make up your mind before then, don't you?" I mean, it would be rather mean of you to have Viktor come all the way out here just for you to break his heart."

"Oh, I know. And don't put it like that." She turned her scowl on him, before letting it melt away into a pensive expression. "But I don't think it'll come to that. This may not have been the greatest plan, but I'm going to stick with it." She tucked her Charms notes away. "Better the handsome, famous, older boyfriend than no boyfriend at all and an angry Ron. Besides," she added as she stood and started for the girls stairs, "Viktor definitely knows how to snog."

Harry blinked after her before just shrugging. Every time he thought he had her all figured out she went and did something that completely threw him off again. Her appearance at the Yule Ball last year had been more than a shock, and Harry suspected that Hermione enjoyed messing with his and Ron's heads.

But still...but still he didn't really like it. Hermione needed to make a decision, to do something. If she wanted Ron, she should tell him. Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was being rather the hypocrite, but for some reason this whole situation was bothering him.

Harry made his way up the boys' stairs and into his dormitory. Ron's curtains were drawn, but there was no snoring coming from within. Harry paused a moment, considering asking Ron if he wanted to talk, but he discarded the notion. He had found from experience that it was better to let Ron have a day or two before approaching him. When he was upset or hurt, his temper tended to flare up unexpectedly and Harry had no desire to get caught in the crossfire.

He crossed to his trunk, digging about for a clean set of pajamas. He couldn't find any at first, so he grumbled a bit and leaned over to dig deeper. He was about to give up and just sleep in a shirt when his hand found warm flannel. He tugged, but it wouldn't budge. Harry plunged his head and shoulders into his trunk, pawing through a pile of muggle and wizard clothes, old books and assignments, and an ancient looking bag of owl treats. He finally unearthed the pajamas, and then stopped dead as he saw what they were caught on.

"Oh bugger," he muttered. Idiot, he added mentally. He'd been so busy these past few weeks, so wrapped up in Quidditch and Padma and prefect duties that he'd completely forgotten about the Crouch papers. Good job, Harry. Dumbledore finally gives you an actual job and you go forgetting about it.

Harry pulled out both the box of papers and the pajamas. He changed quickly, then repeated his actions from several weeks ago, securing himself in privacy behind his curtains. Opening the box, he lifted out the diary. It was the only thing he hadn't thoroughly examined or read, and he figured he should at least skim it before he went to Dumbledore.

Harry pulled his comforter up around him and balanced his lit wand behind his ear, pointing at the book. He could see as he read that the dates of entries were not regular and were often far apart. He guessed that it would be impossible for Crouch under the Imperious Curse to write in his diary. Also, many of the entries seemed scattered, the subject jumping almost randomly about. He wondered if there were effects of using the Imperious Curse over long periods of time.

Harry skimmed several entries over a few years in the mid 80's. They were mostly as innocuous as the papers, details of his environment and treatment. Crouch made only occasional references to Voldemort, and then just to restate his assurance that 'his lord' would be back someday. Harry flipped to the back of the book, and sighed in disappointment when he saw that the entries ended in 1993. There would be no details of Voldemort's time spent at the Crouch home, nor of his future plans. But Harry kept reading, working his way backwards from the end this time, just for variety.

He had just about given up hope of finding any useful information, or clarification of that worrisome first entry, when he spotted one particularly long passage.

"February 10, 1988.

"It is becoming easier and easier to break the Imperious Curse. Father still applies it at regular intervals, not realizing that for over half of each month my mind is my own.

"Today was a day to remember. It brought me great hope and great disappointment. My Mark, so long faded and inactive, flared to life this morning. It burned

nearly as dark as it used to when My Lord would call his faithful servants. If I could, I would have Apparated to My Lord instantly. But there are wards about the house, and there was also something odd about the Mark. I could not feel the pull of My Lord, calling me to him at a specific location. It was just an awareness, an assurance that he was indeed there.

"It faded after only five hours. I had hoped my long wait was over, that My Lord would come for me. But it appears not to be. Perhaps My Lord wished only to reassure his faithful servants that he will return to us. Or perhaps something else has happened, something that will strengthen the power of My Lord.

"I have only to be patient. When my mark burns again and My Lord calls me to go to him I can tell him the information. He has only to know the conditions, the way Reynard completed his task. My Lord will be pleased, even though Reynard's great mind is with us no longer. The pleasure of My Lord will fall entirely to me, and I will be celebrated as the bringer of the destruction of Harry Potter. No one injures the Dark Lord and lives, not even a little brat child.

"Just the exact phrase and the gesture. It's a brilliant trigger, and Reynard was a brilliant man. He has no idea that there lies destruction within his own brain. He will manifest and Potter will die and My Lord will reward me."

Harry hastily flipped through the last few entries, his heart pounding. He repacked the box with half-numb fingers, then shoved it beneath his bed. He would go to Dumbledore before breakfast the next morning. Crouch had named him, had described a plan for his destruction the workings of which Harry had only the vaguest of notions.

A trigger, manifesting, Reynard. It sounded like Reynard had set up some sort of spell, a timed thing that needed to be activated. Something to do with him.

What if the spell was on him? What if there was something in his body, in his mind, waiting only for the moment when Voldemort said that phrase and made that gesture? Harry shivered, curling up tight. It was a terrifying thought, thinking of something inside of him that he couldn't control, couldn't stop.

He would go to Dumbledore. Dumbledore would know, Dumbledore would fix it. Of course he would.