Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 13: To Know My Heart

ALL the words that I utter,

And all the words that I write,

Must spread out their wings untiring,

And never rest in their flight,

Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,

And sing to you in the night,

Beyond where the waters are moving,

Storm-darken'd or starry bright.

--"Where My Books Go" by William Butler Yeats

"This is useless," Ron exclaimed, slamming his book shut and making both Harry and Hermione jump. "We're just finding the same things over and over again. 'Bearers of darkness,' 'destroy at all cost'..."

"You'd think they were all written by the same person," Harry agreed, looking up from his own book. "I keep seeing the exact same explanations and definitions over and over again."

"All in favor of dropping this for the moment and studying for exams?" Hermione asked, stretching mightily.

Ron made a horrified face. "Studying, no. I think if I saw another book I'd lose my dinner. But giving up is sounding really nice."

"This got us a whole lot of nothing," Harry grumbled, glaring at the laden table. "We've been at this for four days, and gotten nowhere."

"Well, sometimes a lack of information is just as telling as information itself," Hermione pointed out, sounding very professorly. "None of these books mention any sort of remarkable lifespan for Inficius snakes. So we can conclude that either Nagini is not an Inficius snake, has some sort of longevity magical aid, or it wasn't Nagini to begin with."

"And none of them say the slightest thing about where Dementors come from," Harry pointed out. "What does that tell us?"

"That the Magizoologists need to be a bit more thorough," she retorted smartly.

"And it was Nagini," Harry added morosely. "I'm sure it was. And McKinnon identified the species. You'd think she'd know, of all people."

"Well, I honestly can't find the energy to care," Ron put in, stretching his long arms above his head and cracking his back.

"We know how much this stuff is bothering you," Hermione said as she saw Harry's slight frown. "But really, we have exams starting in just a few days and I honestly doubt we'll find anything new in the rest of the books here, anyway. It just seems like we've stumbled into one of those voids of information where nobody has ever asked the question before."

"Or wanted to find out," Harry added. "I really can't blame people for not wanting to ask a Dementor for its pedigree."

"And these snakes," Hermione continued, waving at an open book displaying a picture of an Inficius. "They haven't been around ... probably ... for nearly half a millennium. Pretty much everyone has forgotten about them as little more than an interesting story about dark creatures. Everything we have here is either conjecture, or so obscure with the 'cursed beast' and 'destroy the dark spirits' that it's little more than superstition."

"I don't know." Harry dropped his head and cradled it in his hands. "I was just so *sure* that this was important with the Dementors, and that it really was Nagini." He glared at the piles of unhelpful books. "But everything we've read here makes me think I'm losing my mind."

"I trust your instincts," Hermione said comfortingly. "And you should too. If you say it's important, it probably is. Sometimes what's inside you is more important than what's in the books." She ignored Ron's incredulous look at that, coming from her. "We've just hit a dead-end here, and we're sort of pressed for time what with exams."

"Alright, alright." Harry threw up his hands, not about to tell them that he really didn't need much convincing. He was as frustrated as they were, and he was thankful they'd stuck with it as long as they had. That didn't mean, of course, that both his identification of Nagini, and his questions about Dementors wouldn't continue to plague him. "Let's put these away and head back for the common room." He held up a hand as Hermione began to protest. "Ron's right. My eyes are starting to swim and words aren't making sense anymore. Let's get a good night's sleep and work on exams tomorrow."

"Here, here," Ron agreed, gathering an armful of books. "I'll take the Magical Creatures section."

"I'll do History," Harry agreed, sorting through the piles as well. He and Ron exchanged a conspiratorial wink as they headed off in opposite directions, leaving Hermione spluttering and irritated. They'd long ago found that one of the very few ways to circumvent Hermione's stubbornness about studying was just to run away very fast before she could really get going.

Harry hummed tunelessly as he wove in and out of the shelves, replacing his books and keeping an almost automatic eye out for anything that might end their search on a more successful note. His eyes were therefore trained on the shelf above his head as he rounded the corner of a row at a light trot. He completely missed the figure crouched down to reach the bottom levels, and thudded full force into her, sending her sprawling and landing on his rear.

"Owww," he said, rubbing said bruised area. "I'm really sorry." He scrambled to his feet, leaving his scattered books in favor of extending a hand to his victim. "I really wasn't looking-"

"Hello Harry." Cho met his eyes for half a second before glancing down at the floor. "Don't worry about it. It didn't hurt."

"I, er that is, I didn't mean-" Harry floundered, his brain short-circuiting as he automatically reacted to the positively sinful way she filled out her robes, then felt a flood of nearly overpowering guilt. "I'm sorry," he said finally, following her example and studying the floor. He wondered with a rising sense of panic if she would understand the double-meaning in that.

"It's fine," she said, then without another word brushed past him and slipped off deeper into the stacks. Harry felt his gut contract as he saw she'd left a book open on the floor where she'd been, a quill and parchment beside it.

He bent and replaced the book, then took the quill and parchment carefully in his hands. She'd been taking notes in a pretty, dark blue ink, something complicated about resonance curves that he figured must be Arithmancy.

He tucked both items away in his robes with infinite care, then retrieved his own books and replaced them without really thinking about it. It was a wonder he didn't set off one of the shelves, for his brain wasn't really processing catalog numbers at the moment.

He withdrew the parchment again as he retraced his steps towards the table where he'd left his bag. Her handwriting was sort of big, the rounded letters eating up every bit of available space. She seemed to be one of those people who had their own personal code for taking notes, little abbreviations and terse phrases which made sense only to her.

Harry really wasn't sure, maybe it was just the long hours of squinting at small text, but his eyes were burning like he might just burst into tears.

"It's not just for the exams this term, but for the OWLs, too. If you get behind, Ron, you'll find it harder and harder to catch up."

"And then I'll get less owls than Fred and George and drop out of Hogwarts to work as Assistant Conductor on the Knight Bus. Really, Hermione, you're taking this way too seriously. Sure, they're big tests but it's not like-"

"Woe, what's wrong?" Hermione cut off Ron's exasperated tirade, jumping to her feet and catching Harry by the arm as he approached them. "You look horrid."

He just blinked at her for a moment, his fingers flexing on the parchment in his hands. "She wouldn't listen," he said softly. "I wanted to tell her, I should have told her..."

"Who?" Ron took his other arm and Harry quickly found himself maneuvered into a chair. Hermione attempted to take the parchment from him, but he held on for dear life. "Oy, you're shaking." Ron gripped Harry's forearm firmly, though he seemed very far away to Harry.

"She probably hates me, thinks it's all my fault." Harry glanced back down at the notes, distressed to see the crinkles his fingers had inflicted. He laid the sheet out on the table and began smoothing it tenderly.

"Who?" Hermione interposed her hand between his eyes and the parchment, then gripped his chin and made him look at her. "What just happened?"

"Cho. I saw Cho. Fell for her, fell over her I mean." Harry laughed mirthlessly at his slip. "And she just ran away. She forgot her notes." He gestured at the sheet, the fact somehow very important.

"Okay, he's starting to scare me," Ron muttered. "Reckon we should slap him?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Harry took a deep breath, attempting to reinstate some order in his mind as he straightened up, though he didn't remove his hands over Cho's parchment. "I can still hear you, you know."

"Didn't look like it," Hermione murmured, though she slid an arm over his shoulders for a quick squeeze. "You looked kind of like ... like you did when we saw you in the hospital wing at the end of last year."

"I imagine so. Felt like that, too." Harry sighed softly then met both their fixed gazes. "I suppose you want to know what happened?"

"It'd be nice," Ron agreed.

"Ran into Cho. Literally. She stayed just long enough to not look at me and then practically ran off into the stacks." Harry sighed again and gestured at the parchment. "And she left this and her quill. It just .. I don't know ... it really upset me. I haven't thought about her in a while really." He paused, his fingers unconsciously stroking her notes. "I saw her crying at the feast, last year."

"Did you want to tell her about what happened?" Hermione asked gently, perching on the corner of the table in front of him. "I doubt she was told much of anything."

"I wanted to, yeah. But you saw me when I explained the whole thing to you guys." Harry shrugged helplessly. "I can't even string a sentence together when I get thinking about some things."

"You could try just cornering her and body binding her. That way she'll have to listen and you'll have plenty of time to get it out right." Ron shrugged at Hermione's scandalized look.

"Ignore him," she said firmly. "I have a better idea." She reached forward and plucked Cho's quill from where it protruded out of his robes, then retrieved a blank piece of parchment. "You have everything you need. Write it down. You can erase as many times as you want and be sure you get it just right." She paused a moment and smiled gently at him. "And I think writing it down in an organized way will be good for you."

Harry pondered it for a moment, then slowly nodded. Telling Ron and Hermione about what had happened had been an enormously cathartic experience, but it had been incredibly jumbled, all pouring out indiscriminately. He had just ripped the scabs away and revealed the gaping wounds beneath. It had been necessary, but now he needed to go back and do it again, deliberately and with care. For his own sake as well as for Cho.

"You're right," he said, nodding thankfully. "And I can send her notes to her with the letter. Hopefully that will get her to read it." He smiled a little ruefully. "Now I just have to figure out how to start, and then what word comes next."

"How about dear Cho?"

"Has a nice ring to it," Ron agreed, reaching for his bag. "And I don't know about you two, but I'm about ready for a nice game of chess before the fire."

***

Dear Cho,

You left your notes and quill in the library the other day, and I figured you'd want them back. And I also wanted to talk to you. But as you probably already know talking isn't one of my talents, so Hermione suggested I write to you. Please, Cho, read this letter. Hermione was right, it's easier this way somehow, neater. But it's also harder because I have to read what I write, and I have to think about it. Maybe talking would be easier, even if it didn't make much sense. But I'm just so tired of feeling bad, and I figure it's time to do something about it.

***

"Where are you off to?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline as she laid eyes on Harry.

"And what in blazes are you wearing?" Ron demanded, gaping at his friend.

"To meet Padma for dance lessons, and this is what Padma told me to wear." Harry glanced down at his outfit, tugging self-consciously at his cloak. The sleeveless white T-shirt and skin-tight black pants left little to the imagination, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why Padma insisted he wear them.

"Weird," Ron pronounced. "Where did you get that stuff?"

"Gladrags." Harry shrugged and smoothed a hand down the side of the pants. "They're actually not all Muggle. The pants have wrinkle repellant charms on them, and the whole thing is supposed to adapt to your temperature needs."

"Good thing if you'll be learning to dance," Hermione nodded. "How's that going, anyway?"

Harry made a face and perched a moment on the arm of the couch where his friends had settled in the common room. He didn't really want to delay, not only because he had wanted to arrive before Padma, but also because he could practically feel multiple pairs of eyes crawling over him. He felt they could see straight through his cloak to the way his ribs protruded through the shirt beneath, and the way he'd had to punch a new whole in his belt to keep the pants up.

"I can do the box step," he said, shrugging. "And at least I can count to four in rhythm. That's an improvement."

"Box step?" Ron asked blankly.

"Oh, really," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Tell Padma to be sure to teach you some more modern steps too, Harry. They'll probably be easier. Most of them don't require any rhythm. Look better if you're uncoordinated, too."

"That's why I'm wearing these clothes, actually." Harry made a self-deprecating noise. "We tried some different things last night and I kept tripping over my robes. So she said we'd practice in Mugglish clothes, then go back to robes before the ball."

"You'd think someone who was so coordinated in the air could manage a little better on the ground," Ron teased.

"Oh, shut up." Harry lobbed a cushion at him. "Like you could do better. You were just as clueless as I was last year at the ball."

"Speaking of the ball," Hermione added, "Who are you going with?"

"Dunno." Ron's expression darkened a little. "I haven't asked anybody."

"Asking always helps," Harry encouraged. "Unless of course they say no."

"Or they're already going," Ron snapped waspishly.

"Are we talking about the ball?" A new voice asked. The three turned to see Ginny, just descended from the girls stairs and approaching them rapidly. "Because I was just talking to my friend, Samantha. She doesn't have a date, either."

"Who?" Ron asked blankly.

"Oh, I know her." Hermione looked pleased at the idea. "She's that tall one with the short brown hair, right?"

"Wait, isn't she a fourth year?" Ron asked, looking put out. "I can't go with a fourth year."

"Why ever not?" Ginny asked, looking irritated.

"Because, well, she, that is she's younger." Ron spluttered, looking shocked at the very idea.

"Are you saying Victor can't go with me because I'm younger than him?" Hermione asked, straightening up.

For a moment Harry thought Ron was going to yell "Yes!" but his friend restrained himself to a glare before turning back to Ginny. "Is she nice?" He asked.

"Very," Ginny confirmed. "And I know she doesn't really like to dance, so your dignity will remain in tact."

"I'll think about it," Ron agreed grudgingly, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She obliged his curiosity only with a bland smile and a return to her book.

"What about you?" Hermione asked after a moment, glancing back up at Ginny. "Any askers?"

"Actually, yes." Ginny straightened her robes, her lips twitching. "William Rushforth asked me yesterday. I said yes, of course."

"What!" Ron leapt to his feet, his fists clenched. "He's a sixth year! You can't go with him!"

"Can't I?" Ginny arched a brow, glaring right back. "I do believe, Ron, that I didn't ask you for your permission."

Harry winced. He hadn't spoken to Ginny since that tense conversation in the owlery a few days ago, but he recognized that tone all too well even after hearing it only once.

"I like William," Hermione cut in. "He's a very nice boy. Good at Potions, too."

"Who is this?" Harry asked, feeling out of the loop.

"Right over there." Ginny moved a little closer and jerked her chin toward the hearth where Harry saw a lanky blonde boy sprawled over a chair and glancing listlessly through a textbook. Ginny's tone had lost its confrontational edge when she spoke to him, but her eyes were sharp on his face as if waiting for something.

"Oh, right, I've seen him around," Harry nodded. "He seems nice enough."

"You really should get to know a lot of the other students," Hermione reproved. "You're a prefect. You're supposed to be representing and working for them."

"I know, I know." Harry clutched at his hair and sighed. "I've just been really busy what with Quidditch and exams and Padma and those bloody snakes. And I do go to Prefect meetings."

"And doze off in the back row and then ask to borrow my notes later," Hermione snapped.

"They're really boring," Harry protested. "It's just all point totals and one house complaining about another and bickering over schedules and stuff."

"Well, I suppose," Hermione admitted. "It does seem like we don't get much done. Alicia and that Martin chap do a good job of keeping things moving, but it does sort of stall sometimes."

"A sixth year!" Ron snapped abruptly. "Who knows what he'll-"

"Off to the library then," Ginny said airily. "See you guys around."

"Do you mind if I walk with you a ways?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I'm heading for that big empty classroom in the Arithmancy corridor to meet Padma. I wanted to get their early and do some stretching and stuff." He held his breath a little apprehensively, waiting for her response. He still didn't know what was bothering her so much, but it was disturbing him more than he would have expected. She had said "you don't know me," and thinking about it, she was right. It wasn't like he could be really surprised by a great change in behavior from her when he'd had very few conversations with her in the first place. The remark had stung, and Hermione's admonition to get to know more of the Gryffindors had only reminded him of it.

"That's fine," she agreed after a moment.

Harry nodded to Hermione and the still standing Ron, before turning and trailing after Ginny. She reached the portrait hole just as it swung shut behind somebody else, and barely caught it before it latched. Harry held it for her then climbed out himself, absently noticing the retreating sound of running feet. Whoever had just left had been in a big hurry.

"So," he said, falling into step with Ginny. "How are things?"

"Fine," she said, watching her feet.

"Good." Harry said lamely, feeling lost. His mind flicked to the unfinished letter to Cho he'd left up in the dormitory. Hermione was right, he was much better at writing down things where he could erase and rephrase and plan. "You looking forward to holidays?"

"Definitely," she said, and Harry winced. But she surprised him by continuing. "I owe you an apology," she said, her voice flat. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"Don't worry about it," he assured. "I was just worried about you." He closed his lips tight over his next statement, something about the whole thing being unlike her.

"It's just that this term has been really difficult," she said, still not looking up. "There are things going on, hard things, but I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. It's not you're fault that I'm not..." She trailed off, chewing her lip hard.

"Can I help?" Harry asked hopefully. "I mean, if you want to talk, I'd be willing to listen." He paused and laughed softly. "You were right you know. I really don't know you that well."

"That might be a good thing," she murmured very quietly, then paused to meet his eyes before he could ask what she meant. "Don't worry about me," she said firmly. "Everything will be fine. I'm fourteen, remember? Angst and drama are kind of what I'm supposed to do."

"I guess," Harry agreed cautiously. "But my offer still stands if you ever-"

"Thanks." She smiled a little half smile and patted his arm. "Go learn to dance, okay?"

"Will do," Harry agreed, turning away and heading up the hall. That hadn't been the decisive heart-to-heart he'd been hoping for, but he was beginning to suspect that talks with Ginny rarely went the way he had planned. But if she wanted him to leave it alone he would obey her wishes. At least she was speaking civilly to him now, and he knew her previous anger hadn't been the result of something he'd done.

He quickened his step a bit as he approached the Arithmancy corridor, eager to get a head start on Padma. She had been so [patient with his stumblings and toe-stepping, he wanted to surprise her by being already at work when she arrived.

It was, then, a bit of a disappointment to see her already waiting for him, standing in the center of the room and stretching to an unfamiliar tune issuing from the Wizarding Wireless they'd been using. He was a little surprised at her appearance, for he'd gotten so used to seeing her in wizard garb. She was wearing a sparkly top that revealed her shoulders and throat, and a red skirt that went only to mid-thigh. Harry found his tongue uncooperative for a moment as he gazed at her from behind as she bent and touched her toes.

"You're here early," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

She jumped a little but then turned and smiled brilliantly at him. "I wanted to get a head start." Her smile widened as she added, "And I couldn't wait to see you in those clothes. I must say, you look smashing. Take off your cloak, and turn around for me."

"Er, actually, I was thinking I could leave it on," Harry said hurriedly, drawing the cloak protectively around himself. Padma was nearly as ferocious as Hermione when she thought something was wrong, and the fit of his clothes would tell her more than he thought she should know. "I should practice in it for a bit, see if it's any easier than robes."

She looked momentarily disappointed, but then just shrugged and waved her wand towards the wireless. The song immediately switched to a quicker beat, something pounding with a horn wailing in the background as the vocalist crooned.

"Let's try something new," she said, approaching him. "Hands." She took his outstretched hands and put one on her partially bare back, and the other very low on her hip. "Now, just follow what I do."

Harry felt his legs lock up and his face go hot as she began to shimmy against him, her hips pressing into him, then away, then her whole body writhing along his.

"Don't just stand there," she murmured into his ear. "It's not hard. Just ... wiggle."

Harry nearly choked as she demonstrated the word with action. He tentatively began to mimic her movements, awkward at first, then gaining confidence as she smiled encouragingly up at him. This was, he decided, really nice in a aching sort of way. But he'd worry about cold showers later. Now Padma was pressing even closer, her hair tumbling freely over his hand as she threw her head back. Harry was enthralled, caught by the expression of abandonment he'd never seen on her face before.

He bent and kissed her hungrily, his brain short circuiting as her hands slid down his back and settled on his rear. The skin of her back was silky smooth beneath his palm and he began tracing the line of her shirt over her spine and around to her front. He lost all coherency as she continued to "wiggle" the movement sending his hand skidding. He heard himself make a deep, unfamiliar noise as he gently gripped something soft and pliant and felt her sigh into his mouth. They'd never done anything like this before, just lots of kisses and hand-holding, he thought woozily. And why they hadn't he couldn't think for the life of him, because this was bloody marvelous.

And, oh Merlin, one of her hands had begun tracing the waistband of his pants around his hip and she was plucking lightly at his belt buckle.

And then suddenly she was gone, leaving him panting and moaning as her rapid departure made his belt snap back against his ... dear Lord what were they doing?

He straightened up and blinked fuzzily. That couldn't be right, it looked like there were two Padmas now, one looking disheveled and breathless, the other blazingly angry. Harry scrubbed automatically at his glasses, his Oxygen deprived brain slowly coming back online and informing him that, oh dear, this was really not good.

"You you you bitch!" The angry Padma shrieked. "How dare you! Going behind my back like that! You just can't stand to see me have something you can't!" And with that she hauled off and slapped the panting Padma square across the face, sending her sprawling on her scantily covered backside.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Be quiet," Angry Padma snapped. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

Harry shut up, and took a few steps back for good measure. His body was still stuck back at 'this feels good, hey, come back' and his brain wasn't much further.

"Selfish. That's what you are." Angry Padma advanced on panting Padma, who was rubbing her flaming cheek tenderly and looking a little scared. "I can't believe you would stoop so low. I knew you had no class, let alone morals but I never suspected you'd resort to this!" She made a contemptuous gesture around the room, ending with a finger pointed sternly at her double ...

Her double...

"Oh, bugger." Harry said softly, sinking to the floor. "Oh, bugger."

"I was just-" Parvati began, for he knew it was Parvati now who sat on the floor, her short skirt hiked up and her hair in disarray.

"Get out." Padma said coldly, no longer screaming. "Just take your slutty clothes and your jealousy and whatever the Hell else you've got going here and get out."

Parvati scrambled to her feet, looking both shocked and relieved. "I wasn't going to hurt anything," she cried, looking injured. "You weren't supposed to show up for another fifteen minutes. I would have been ... done ... by then."

"Oh, I'm sure," Padma said quietly. "Didn't I tell you to get out?"

"Just showing him what it could be like," Parvati continued, not moving. "You, you're such a little prude, you probably have no idea how to take care of a boyfriend, especially someone like him." She nodded to Harry, who had been watching the whole thing with a growing sense of surrealistic dread. "He needs someone more-"

"Get. Out."

Parvati stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes flicking from Padma to Harry. Then she spun on her heel, effecting a wounded pout as she strode out.

Padma stood frozen for a moment, her face set in lines of rage and hurt. Then she followed Harry's example and sank to the floor, her head cradled in her shaking hands.

"I didn't know," Harry said hoarsely. All hints of arousal were long gone. "I thought-she was teaching me a new dance and I didn't.." He trailed off helplessly, able only to see glimpses of Padma's face through her spread fingers.

"I know," she said after an eternity. "You wouldn't-I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you. I was just so-God she is such..." She seemed as unable to articulate herself as Harry, which was a new thing for him to see in her.

"Are you angry at me?" He asked hesitantly. "I would understand if ... I'm really sorry, you know?"

"I'm not mad." She turned to face him at last, drawing her legs up and hugging her knees. Her legs, Harry saw with a flood of shame, which were clothed in black pants much like his own, not an overly-short, completely uncharacteristic skirt. "I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway."

He hunched over a little, afraid he might be sick right then and there.

"What do you say we skip the dance lesson tonight?" Padma asked, with a brave little half smile. "I'm not really feeling sprightly at the moment."

"Yeah, you're right." Harry scrambled to his feet, hesitated a moment, then extended a hand for Padma. He was reassured as she accepted it willingly and rose as well. "I'm really sor-"

"Don't. It's fine." She squeezed his hand, though any comfort he would have derived from the gesture was completely eclipsed by the way she didn't meet his eyes. "You didn't know. Not your fault."

She turned away and fiddled with a bag she'd dropped by the door, her stance impenetrable and unapproachable.

"Er, I'll just be going, then," Harry said to her back.

"Good night," she said tonelessly.

"Er, do you still want to meet here tomorrow night?" He asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Sure." She agreed.

"I'll see you, then," Harry said, his voice sounding unnaturally cheerful to his own ears. He turned and practically fled before he could make it worse.

***

I realized, after I tripped over you in the library like that, how little I know about you. It's kind of funny that I'm about to tell you one of my most guarded secrets, and we've only had maybe two conversations. I hope I'm not presuming on you with this letter, and I hope I don't just hurt you with it. But I thought I should tell you, since you and Cedric seemed so close. So maybe this isn't at all what you want to be hearing, and I have to admit I really wouldn't know what you need. I've never asked. But I figure that that's what's wrong with a lot of things now, we just don't ask the important questions. We just let things be and hope they'll go away.

***

Harry glanced up from his letter as Hermione plopped down beside him, the entire table shaking as she dropped her bag onto it.

"Enough books?" He asked mildly.

"No." she said with a straight face. "But they'll do for now. We're not just studying for the term exams, you know, we're also-"

"Preparing for the Owls," Ron finished, taking the chair across from them. "We know, Hermione."

"Well, don't come crying to me when you only get six," she snapped. "At least Harry and I are preparing."

"I am?" Harry asked, grinning as Hermione rounded on him. "Er, I mean, of course I am."

"So anyway," she said, apparently deciding to leave it be for the moment, "I figured we'd continue where we left off last night with Potions. We need to review the fixing agents again, and then we can do some Transfiguration. McGonagall's exams are usually pretty thorough."

"You mean impossible," Ron put in.

"Try studying," Hermione said with a superior tone.

"Uh, excuse me," A timid voice broke in. "You're Ron, right?"

The willowy girl turned violently scarlet as they all turned to look at her. Harry remembered her face from around the common room, but he couldn't put a name to it.

"Oh, hi Samantha."

Bless Hermione.

"Hi." Samantha smiled gratefully at Hermione, cast Harry an awe-filled look, then returned to Ron. "Er, hi." she said, extending a hand.

"Hey," Ron said, accepting it and shaking it. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, well Ginny said you didn't have a date for the ball so..." She trailed off, scuffing her foot on the carpet and looking like she might burst into tears when Ron hesitated.

""He doesn't," Hermione said quickly. "And you don't either?"

"Not yet," Samantha affirmed, giving Ron a hopeful look through her lashes.

"Er, that is, I'd be glad to go with you," Ron said, giving a start halfway through his statement as if someone had kicked him under the table. As Harry's own feet had stayed quite still, it wasn't hard to figure out who the culprit was.

"That's great," The girl exclaimed, obviously greatly relieved. "So I'll meet you down here before the ball?"

"That's fine," Ron agreed, smiling back and then turning to frown at Hermione as the girl hurried away. "What'd you do that for?"

"You saw her. She would have been crushed if you'd said no." Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "What harm could it do? After all, she is younger than you, entirely at your mercy of course."

"Oh, Merlin, the ball!" Harry exclaimed, sitting bolt up in his chair and nearly knocking over his ink bottle.

"What about it?" Hermione asked. "Aren't you going with Padma?"

"Er, well, I don't..." Harry sighed and shrugged. He'd only returned from another dance lesson with her twenty minutes before, but the lesson had been anything but a success. It had been so incredibly polite and normal that it was one of the most stressful times Harry had ever spent. She had smiled fixedly, and a little frighteningly at him through the entire ordeal, even when he nearly broke her toe. He hadn't thought about why they were dancing together, or the slightly frightening prospect of spending an entire evening with her like that.

"Have you guys had a fight?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"No, not ... exactly." Harry ducked his head, a little embarrassed. "We're still going, as far as I know. Just ... oh it's nothing." He waved away their dubious looks, really not eager to rehash the whole thing. He'd resolved last night after he returned from the Arithmancy corridor to just give her time to settle down and not to worry too much about the whole thing. She had after all said she wasn't angry with him.

"And when is Victor arriving?" Ron asked, his face making it clear he really didn't give a Blast-ended Skrewt.

"The afternoon of the ball, actually. You can't apparate across country borders, you know, so it'll take him a few hours to cross the continent."

"That's great," Ron said. Hermione only looked a little worried. Harry had to agree, he was a bit concerned for the peace and harmony of the evening, not just with Padma being all distant, but with Ron snarling at Victor the whole time.

It was disconcerting, thinking about the ball now. He'd actually been looking forward to it, albeit with a bit of nervousness. He'd been anticipating a fun and romantic evening with Padma, eager to show off his hard-won dancing skills with her. He'd figured that your partner really did make the night and that with Padma it would be more of a pleasure than a chore. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Anyway," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts. "Let's get started. We have a lot to cover."

***

You know, I just realized that I've stalled for nearly a whole roll of parchment. I could always just scrap it, you might never read it. But then maybe rambling is good now, maybe you don't want to read as much as I don't want to write it. It's a funny thing being a Gryffindor. Some of the Slytherins have called us simple, but I don't agree at all. It's not simple doing things that make your insides turn liquid. See, now, I'd never have been able to say something like that out loud. I suppose there is something to this writing business.

So, Gryffindor. Gryffindors do things, they get them done when no one else will. Hufflepuffs, they're just bloody good, you know? They just don't even think about cheating, I bet, and they see things so clearly. But it was my fault. I mean, I told him. I said to take it together, for a Hogwarts victory. Nobody won, except Voldemort.

And I'm still stalling. Right. So, this is how it was...

***

"Is it just me or are the exams a lot harder this year?" Ron asked, sounding a little groggy.

"Not just you," Harry agreed, never lifting his eyes from his Charms book. It was their last exam, and praise be for that. It had been a grueling two days. Harry remembered in previous years seeing the older students strained, silent faces around the end of every term. Now he understood. He hadn't spent a single moment with his nose clear of a book in four days, ever since that awkward lesson the night after...

He sighed exasperatedly and thumped his own forehead with the book. He couldn't stop thinking about that damn ... that bitch. Harry almost never swore, out loud or in his head. Uncle Vernon always swore at anything and everything, and Harry supposed it was just his way of trying his best to be as unlike his uncle as possible. But Padma's word had sort of stuck, and in the name of all that was holy, it felt good ricocheting around his head.

He had caught only glimpses of Parvati since that horrid night. She seemed to be avoiding him, which was a pretty difficult thing to do when you had every single class together. He'd caught a fleeting glimpse of the puffy, reddened side of her face, and found it nearly impossible to feel sorry for her. He kept remembering a conversation he and Padma had had months before, about houses and the differences between them. It seemed such a Slytherin thing, to pretend to be her sister and try to ... what? Seduce him? Charm him away from Padma? Just be able to say she'd kissed the Boy Who Bloody Lived?

But Harry was slowly learning that a house name didn't say quite as much about a person as he'd always thought. He remembered in his first years in Hogwarts, how just saying "He's a Slytherin," or "She's a Hufflepuff" was supposed to be the only pertinent information about a person. Now it just seemed ludicrous. He wondered suddenly, perhaps a little hysterically if Peter Pettigrew had been a Gryffindor.

"Oy, letter for you," Ron called, jabbing him.

Indeed, Harry saw as he raised his eyes from his book, a familiar looking school owl was perched, looking a bit bedraggled, on the edge of the Gryffindor table.

"Hi there," he said, pushing his entire plate of untouched lunch towards the bird and retrieving the letter. "Thanks."

"Is it from Snuffles?" Hermione asked, emerging from her notes for the first time that day.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, unrolling the parchment and glancing at the signature. "Give me a minute."

He smoothed out the letter and slid it into his book for safe keeping. Just at the sight of it all his worries about the Dementors and whatever the hell it was that the adults were doing flooded back. He realized suddenly that it would probably be just as bad if Sirius came out and told him the truth, than if he lied to Harry. Truth had a habit of being unpleasant, in Harry's experience.

Dear Harry,

Nice to hear from you again. I'm glad things are going well for you, they are for me as well.

I was very relieved to hear that you were alright after the Dementor attack. Dementors are dangerous, I should know.

Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that you'll be seeing me very soon. I hope you don't mind an old dog intruding on your Christmas.

We can talk more when I arrive, and do take care.

Snuffles

"Well, that says a whole lot of nothing," Harry sighed.

"Let's see," Hermione said, accepting the letter and frowning her way through it. "Well, he is coming for Christmas." Both she and Ron looked relieved at that. "That's wonderful news, I'm sure you'll have a brilliant time with him."

"Probably," Harry agreed, sounding grumpy even to himself. "Oh, don't mind me," he said at their looks. "I just ... I was hoping he'd tell me *something*. I know he's kept secrets before, and I know Dumbledore does too. He has basically told me he knows things about me that he can't or won't tell me." He shrugged helplessly. "It's just hard knowing for sure."

"He says you can talk at Christmas," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, cheering a bit. "He probably couldn't write it down anyway."

"Speaking of writing," Ron cut in, "We've gotta get to Charms."

"Oh, God." Harry moaned, banging his head down repeatedly on the table.

"Oh, it can't be that bad," Hermione reproved. "We studied all yesterday for it."

Harry just rolled his eyes. In truth, he wasn't too worried about the exam itself. They had studied an awful lot for it, and he had little doubt he'd pull through with his average mark. But they had Charms with Ravenclaw, and he usually sat next to Padma. He had to admit he'd much rather she be furious at him than this blandly polite game she was playing. They'd had one more dance lesson, two nights ago, and things had seemed a little better then. They'd chatted a little, even made some actual progress on not falling

Over every few measures. But all his hopes of a return to normal had been shattered by her goodnight kiss. It had been as long and real as ever, but the vague, detached smile she'd given him had hurt worse than one of her slaps would have. He wished she'd just come out and say whatever it was that she needed to say, and get it over with.

But that was the Gryffindor 'hop to it' in him talking. Padma was his girlfriend, not a problem to be solved, he kept reminding himself. And he would solve it her way. It was the least he could do.

He just had to give her time, he was sure. Time and space. Perhaps the time away over the holidays would be good for her, though he wasn't sure spending extended periods of time with Parvati while they traveled would be particularly harmonious. He just needed to let her work through her feelings in her own time and be there when she was ready to open up again.

"You in there?" Hermione asked, tapping him on the nose with her quill as they approached the Charms corridor.

"Yes. Just, er, thinking about Charms."

She gave him a dubious look, but didn't pursue it as they entered the classroom and took their seats. Padma was already there, doing some last minute studying. She glanced up as Harry sat down, her look hooded.

"Hi," he tried.

"Hey," she returned. "You ready for the exam?"

"Oh, I suppose." He shrugged awkwardly. "I never feel *really* ready for an exam. If I did I would start worrying."

Her lips quirked, and Harry smiled back, his heart lightened by the little gesture.

But then Professor Flitwick was calling them to order and passing out their exams while he issued instructions. Glancing down at the first problem, all cheer faded away.

Bugger, he remembered studying that charm just last night. Why couldn't he remember it?

***

...So that's what happened. It's sort of divided my life, I think. There's before that night, and after. But I think maybe you know about that. And then I think that I'm making assumptions about you again. It's just ... over. I was talking to Dumbledore once, and he called death "the next great adventure." But he was talking about the organized mind, and somehow I think having an organized mind basically means being as old as he is. I don't think Cedric ever really thought about death, anymore than I did.

I should probably find a moral in all this. I should honor his memory by learning from him. If there's one thing I'd have to point to, it's that things end. Quidditch games end eventually, and days end, and people end too. I wish I hadn't learned that, because it was much nicer when everything went on forever.

But now I'm getting all weird and philosophical, and I'm on my fourth roll of parchment. Please, Cho, forgive me. Even if by some miracle you weren't angry with me in the first place, just pretend a little?

Things end. Right. Even this letter, eventually. Now I just have to get up the guts to send it.

Harry Potter

***

Harry sighed as he laid down his quill. His letter covered nearly four rolls of parchment in total, and it had taken him several days to complete. He felt drained as he looked it over, like he had put more than just words down. Not for the first time he blessed Hermione for her suggestion. Even if Cho didn't ever read it, or worse didn't care, at least he had *done* something.

Harry glanced up from the corner of the common room where he had retreated to write his letter. Pretty much the entirety of Gryffindor house were sprawled about the room, some playing Exploding Snap, others just chatting. He didn't spot one book or parchment anywhere, which wasn't too surprising considering they had all been released from the last exam of the term only an hour before. Harry himself didn't intend to even *think* about homework for at least a week of the vacation.

Even Hermione was relaxing by the fire, talking with Ginny and that Rushforth fellow as Ron thoroughly massacred Seamus at Chess and cast Rushforth distrustful looks. Everybody was in high spirits, both in anticipation of tomorrow night's ball, and the train leaving the day after to take them home for holidays. According to the sign-up sheet Harry, Hermione, and the sixth year Gryffindor prefects had circulated, there were only five other students staying in the tower besides Harry. It seemed like anybody who could was going home.

Harry turned back to his letter and unrolled the first scroll to reread it as an entirety. He wanted to send it off tonight, so Cho would get it before the break and would have the chance of thinking about her response through the holiday. Of course, if she took the entire three weeks to answer, Harry was afraid he might just combust with nervousness.

Harry traced his finger along the lines as he read, his lips moving silently. He had to admit it was a pretty good letter, and it should be for the number of times he'd redone bits of it. It felt right to him, it felt real and true. Perhaps more importantly it gave him a sense of accomplishment that at least in this he was not waiting for someone else, whether it be Padma or Dumbledore or Sirius or anybody. He was doing something on his own power, and however it turned out he had that to comfort him.

Harry paused in his reading, feeling like he had just taken a kick in the gut. He blinked at the parchment, the words taking on a whole new meaning as he watched. "Sometimes what's inside you is what's really important," Hermione had said. And he realized as his eyes followed his own admittedly messy scrawl that indeed this letter was inside him, was a glimpse of his mind, of thoughts and feelings he himself had not been aware of.

Harry's eyes rose from the parchment and swept the room again, coming to rest on a boisterous group of students occupying two couches across the room. The Weasley twins were hunched together over a stack of documents, the looks on their faces stating planer then day "we are up to no good." The three Gryffindor chasers sat across from them, sharing a bag of Chocolate Frogs and occasionally pelting the wrappers at the twins. As he watched Angelina rose from her seat beside Alicia and crossed to the other couch, sliding behind a twin. Harry couldn't tell the difference, but it had to be Fred from the way she was wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling into his neck. Harry suddenly remembered that half-heard conversation a while back between the Chasers. At the time it had been funny, one twin trying to fool the other's girlfriend. But now it wasn't amusing in the slightest.

Harry snapped his gaze up towards the clock above the fireplace, then stood in one decisive motion. He gathered up the letter, rolling all four parchments into one scroll so that Cho's name showed clearly, then securing it with a tie. He turned and exited the common room without a word to anybody.

This time, his trip to the owlery was uneventful. Also different this time, he beckoned to Hedwig the moment he entered. He took a few moments to smooth her feathers and tell her how wonderful she was, knowing she would be offended when she discovered her errand. Indeed, when he explained that all she had to do was find Cho Chang in Hogwarts, she looked highly affronted. Harry spent a few more minutes smoothing her pride, then sent her off.

He stood for a moment at the open owlery windows, gazing after the disappearing speck of white. Cho would probably be getting his letter at about the time he would be meeting Padma. Fitting, he supposed, feeling philosophical. It was all about endings, and beginnings.

Then he shrugged off such notions and turned back for the stairs. Sending that letter wasn't the only decisive thing he would do today.

This time, he arrived in the impromptu dance studio before Padma, or anybody else, could. He flipped on the wireless, feeling inordinately pleased with himself as he immediately picked out the beat of the song and began to dance, modifying what Padma had taught him to fit a single person.

"And there was musical sensation, Celestina Warbuck, with her latest hit 'Alohomora My Heart.'" The announcer said as the song came to an end. "Celestina has just recently returned to England from a protracted tour abroad, both to celebrate her eighteenth birthday with friends and family, and also for a brief rest before she heads off to the United States."

"And you said you couldn't dance," a new voice put in.

Harry spun around, caught completely off guard. "Oh, you scared me," he said, smiling at Padma. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know that you're not as hopeless as you seem to think," she answered, smiling back and approaching him.

"You really think so?" Harry asked, greatly pleased. Padma danced with an ease and grace which spoke of innate talent, not just long practice, and praise from her was something to be treasured.

"Really." She bent and adjusted the wireless, selecting a new song which Harry recognized as one of those scary dances where you held your hands up high to your sides and made very fast, but tiny steps with your partner.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding," he protested. "I'll break your toes."

"No you won't." She straightened up and approached him, her expression implacable. "Just relax and watch my feet. Use our hands for balance, and be sure not to get too dizzy."

"Wait." Harry stopped her instructions and caught her hands in midair.

"What? I'm sure you can-"

"Not that." Harry let out a slow breath then lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes. "I think we should break up."

He was watching her face closely, but he was mystified by the succession of emotions he saw there. First surprise, then pain, some anger, before finally settling on relief. "Oh," she said finally, in a small voice. "Why, may I ask?"

"It's hard to explain," he said, a little confounded now that the moment had actually arrived. "I just ... you're not ..."

"I'm not quite right," she said, rescuing him. She smiled sadly as he gaped. "Oh, honestly. You really didn't think I hadn't come to the same conclusion?"

"It's not you-" He started.

"No, not entirely." She drew her hands away, but held his gaze. "It's both of us. I'm not what you need, and you're more than I need."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, startled. "You deserve, well, I don't see-"

"Do you remember way back when all this started, when you asked me if I was just with you because you were the Boy Who Lived?" she asked, then continued at his nod. "I said no, and that wasn't a lie. But you *are* the Boy Who Lived, like it or not, and I wanted to date Harry alone." She sighed at his confused look. "Those Dementors, you drove them back with a spell, it was so powerful and advanced. There's more to you than someone who has a hard time in Transfiguration and loves Chocolate Frogs. And I-all I wanted was that boy, not the one who could conjure a Patronus and defeat the dark lord and who knows what."

"So why didn't you, you know, break up with me?" Harry asked quietly.

"Good question." She smiled sadly up at him then shrugged. "I figured I'd just let it be, that it would work itself out. I told myself not to overreact, that I'd get used to the idea of dating someone who was a legend for a reason."

"Funny you should say that," Harry replied, feeling a little hollow inside. "I sort of thought I'd just leave things too, with Parvati and that whole mess. Just let you work through what's bothering you." He hesitated, then plunged on. "I didn't stop to think that it was bothering me, too. I mean, I didn't know it wasn't you, and I really should have." He shrugged helplessly. "I've been thinking a lot about people lately, about how hard it is to know somebody."

"And no matter how much fun we have, we don't know each other through and through." She nodded, her eyes understanding.

"Yeah," Harry said on a breath of relief.

"Parvati'll be thrilled," Padma observed wryly. "That was probably her goal, splitting us up."

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry admitted, frowning. "Would you mind-we're not dating anymore but the ball is tomorrow and it would be nearly impossible for us to find other dates..."

"Of course we can still go." She smiled gently at him. "Just because we don't fit quite right as boyfriend and girlfriend doesn't mean we won't fit just fine as friends."

"Well now, that went a lot better than I thought it would," Harry admitted, sitting down in the center of the room and drawing up his knees. "Not that I really knew what to expect."

"We're break-up veterans," she agreed, sitting as well. "You feel any different?"

"Well, it wasn't the sobs and dramatics I was afraid of," he admitted." But it does still hurt."

"Yeah." She nodded, and he thought he caught a flash of moisture in her eyes. "You, you were really good to me."

"You too." He hesitated, then scooted over next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

"What made you decide, anyway?" Padma asked, cocking her head to the side.

"A lot of things." Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Do you ever get the feeling that things happen for a reason? That sometimes all the answers you need are just sitting right in front of you and you just have to look right?"

"Maybe," she said slowly. "But maybe it's not that the answers are around you all the time, maybe it's that you know them all along and just need to realize it."

"Have I ever told you you're really wise?"

"A few times."

"All well-deserved, I'm sure."

"Come on." She jumped to her feet and extended her hand. "Just because you're not my boyfriend anymore doesn't mean I'll let you get away with just a few dances. Get up and face the music, mister."

As he headed back for the common room an hour later, still a little breathless and sweaty from the energetic dance, Harry thought about how odd it was to be smiling as you left your X-girlfriend right after your breakup But he didn't feel like he had lost something tonight, quite the opposite in fact. For the first time in nearly a year he thought about how lucky he was to be at Hogwarts, to be a wizard. It was silly really. There was a psychotic dark lord out there somewhere, doubtless hatching some dire plan. But Harry couldn't really get up the energy to care. His philosophical mood overtook him again as he climbed through the portrait hole, and he wondered if maybe endings and beginnings weren't quite a bit more alike than he had previously thought.

"Exam scores are in!" Hermione called to him across the room as soon as she spotted him.

Harry hurried over, his oddly peaceful mood fractured by the prospect of seeing his marks. "Is it bad?" he asked Ron as he arrived at the fireplace.

"Perfectly decent," Ron assured, passing him his parchment of results. "Hermione calls it underachieving, but..." He shrugged, eloquently expressing what he thought of that.

Harry smiled as he examined his results. Nothing stellar, granted, but they would do just fine.

"Good time with Padma?" Hermione asked, looking up from her own results with a satisfied look.

"Yeah," Harry affirmed. "It was fine." He decided to leave the story of the breakup for some other time, maybe after the ball. He really didn't want to get into it now, not with everyone around them either celebrating or bemoaning their exam results, and pretty much everybody chattering excitedly about the ball.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lee Jordan and Katie Bell hugging tightly, then Lee bend and kiss her. He would miss that, he realized with a pang. There had been little to compare with the feeling of Padma close beside him, not just her kisses but also just the feeling that she was there. But she would still be there, just in a different place, and her kisses would be saved for someone else. Harry caught Katie's eye and winked, watching in amusement as she blushed a little.

Yes, he would miss that. But as Hermione had said, it was there inside him. Maybe now, instead of waiting on Sirius and Dumbledore and Voldemort he could wait on himself a bit, listen to himself instead of everyone else. The prospect was a little scary, but Harry squared his mental shoulders. Taking action that night had felt wonderful, and he was going to continue the trend, for better or worse.

***

Harry smiled sweetly into the mirror in the Prefects bathroom, not wanting to antagonize another one of the touchy things. The one in the Gryffindor boys bathroom continually informed him that he looked horrid since he had snapped at it, and he had needed little excuse to indulge in a luxurious bath and get ready for the ball in comfort and privacy. He really did like the other Gryffindor boys, but sharing showers and sinks with the lot of them got old sometimes.

Harry smoothed his hair carefully, hoping that maybe if he got it right while it was wet, it would stay that way. He had little faith in the bloody mop, but he had to try.

Ten minutes later he gave up and turned from the mirror to get dressed. First pants, then black trousers and a white dress shirt. Harry wasn't a particularly vain person, but even he had to admit that he looked pretty good in his new dress robes. They were made of an unusual fabric which shifted and reflected subtle patterns of color as he moved. It was predominantly a deep blue green, but it sparked with reds, golds and other shades as the light caught it.

But Harry's smile faded as he slipped the garment over his head and attempted to smooth it down. Turning back to the mirror he saw that his hands were not deceiving him, and in fact the robe hung loosely on him, nearly two inches of extra fabric falling in messy creases about his torso. Harry scowled irritably at the damn thing. Sure, when he and Padma had bought it it had been a little large, but this was ridiculous. Surely he couldn't have lost that much weight ... probably.

Harry hesitated only a moment before the mirror, then bent to his bag and retrieved his wand. Action was best, he had so recently decided.

He returned to the mirror, studying himself very closely. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated with all his formidable might on what he wanted. Lifting his wand, he pointed it squarely at himself and cried, "Obscuro Macilentus!" He really hoped the pronunciation guide in that book in Hogsmeade was accurate, and that the spell wouldn't react badly to faulty grammar.

He opened his eyes after a moment, and smiled widely at what he saw. The body beneath the robes was no longer painfully thin, but filled out the garment quite nicely, if he did say so himself. He had been careful to leave a little extra space, giving the impression that the robes were just a touch too big. That would undoubtedly satisfy Padma, and anyone else who might have gotten suspicious.

Feeling quite satisfied with himself, and pushing away any thoughts of guilt at deceiving everybody, Harry made one last, fruitless attempt on his hair, and then turned away from the mirror. He gathered up his things, shoving them back in his bag. He had about half an hour before he needed to be down in the entrance hall to meet Padma.

Harry exited the prefect's bathroom, turning to head back to Gryffindor tower. He nearly cracked his skull as the portrait right next to the bathroom swung open. Harry jumped back, catching his balance on a nearby suit of armor. He straightened up, curious to see who would emerge. He had no idea what was behind that portrait, behind the majority of the portraits at Hogwarts for that matter.

"Oh, those are fabulous robes," Hermione exclaimed, emerging from behind the painting.

"Right back at you," Harry replied, admiring the lovely light purple robes she was wearing. She had done something complicated with her hair, all pins and freshly scented flowers and shiny curls, and she looked radiant. "Victor will wet himself."

"Don't be crude," she scolded, though she looked pleased as he offered his arm for the walk back to the tower. "And I think Padma will be quite pleased with you." She smiled brilliantly up at him. "Not only are those great robes, but you fill them out very well."

"Thank you," he grinned back, any guilt washed away by the pleasure and relief he saw in her. "I guess those potions have been really helping. And don't change the subject. Is Victor here yet?"

"He arrived this afternoon. But I only saw him for about five minutes. Ron got all huffy and dragged me off, and then I had to get ready."

"Have you made any sort of decision about that, yet?" Harry asked. "Ron and Victor, I mean."

"Welllllllll," she said, drawing out the word thoughtfully, "Victor would never get all snappy and difficult if I spent five minutes with someone I haven't seen in three months."

"Even if he *is* your boyfriend?"

"Be quiet. I guess I'm perfectly happy with Victor. True, we really don't see each other often at all, but we've got the entire vacation ahead of us. And you know what they say about dating a close friend."

"No, I don't," Harry admitted.

"It's just not a good idea," Hermione explained as they reached the portrait. "So, I think Ron will really have to grow up, or get over me. Because I'm not ending a relationship with a perfectly nice, fun, sweet guy just to wait for him to figure things out."

"Seems like everyone's being decisive nowadays," Harry murmured, waving to the Fat Lady as she cooed over their appearances before letting them in.

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"Oy, Harry. Owl for yo-" Ron turned from the common room window, the scroll in his hand dropping to the floor as he caught sight of them. "Er, Hermione, you look, er, yes."

"Thanks," she said, shooting Harry an amused look.

"Is that for me?" Harry asked, gesturing at the parchment on the floor.

"Yeah. Hedwig brought it in a few minutes ago," Ron replied, never taking his eyes off Hermione.

"Thanks." Harry bent and retrieved the scroll, his heart beginning to pound as he unrolled it. He hadn't dared to hope that Cho would reply so soon, but of course maybe hope was a bit premature in that he hadn't even read the note yet.

A slow smile spread across Harry's face a few moments later as his eyes traced the single line.

Harry,

I would be delighted if you would save me a dance tonight.

Cho Chang

"For better or worse," he murmured quietly, unconsciously pressing the letter to his altered body.