Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Remus Lupin Severus Snape
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 09/13/2003
Updated: 09/20/2004
Words: 335,561
Chapters: 81
Hits: 1,465,159

Blood Magic

GatewayGirl

Story Summary:
Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry safe, but his relatives are expendable. Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry looking like his adoptive father, but it's wearing off. Blood is a bond, but so is the memory of hate -- or love.
Read Story On:

Chapter 73

Chapter Summary:
The Trio goes to Hogsmeade -- relationships, money, and other minefields
Posted:
05/02/2004
Hits:
19,819


73 -- Gifts and Fears


Harry, Ron, and Hermione skipped breakfast on Saturday. It wasn't that they were not hungry -- it was that they wanted to map the road to Hogsmeade, and avoiding scrutiny meant either going in after the rest of the students, or leaving before them. Hermione promised the reluctant Ron his choice of cakes when they arrived, and they set off, mapping the grounds about them as they walked.

Privacy, of course, had other benefits. Harry didn't trust it enough to risk Severus, but there were other confidential matters to discuss.

"How are things going with Shadow?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. She looked a bit embarrassed. "I'm unusually good at the perception," she said, almost apologetically, "but average at control -- that means I'm not doing very well at it, yet. And it was really foolish of us to pick an animal with such poor vision."

Ron snorted. "As if we expected this! And you picked him."

"I can summon him, though." Hermione ignored Ron's pointed reply. "So the next step is letting him wander, and seeing how well the sight works when I'm connecting at a distance, not knowing where he is. That starts this evening -- we're releasing him from Dumbledore's office."

"And the rats? And toads? How's Neville going to feel if Trevor gets eaten!"

"Dumbledore hexed Shadow so that he can't attack an animal bonded to a person. He can defend himself, though."


After Ron had eaten two huge iced buns and Harry and Hermione had custard tarts, then split one of the iced buns, and Harry and Ron had got tea, and Hermione, on impulse, coffee, they began to consider other activities. More students were arriving now -- they walked past the windows alone, or in pairs, or in clusters. Harry felt a kinship of shared experience towards his friends as he watched a group of third-years pass.

"Look awfully young, don't they?" Ron commented.

Hermione giggled. "As did we, I'm sure."

"But we were all grown up!" Ron exclaimed. "Old enough to go to Hogsmeade."

Harry laughed. "Well, we're older, now. I think we should go get presents for our dates."

Ron made a face. "Oh. Lavender will expect that, won't she?"

"Draco says it's important."

"Oh!" Ron scowled. "Well if Draco says..."

Hermione intervened. "I once read an essay about how that tradition was a play version of bride price, so it might matter more to Draco."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, the purebloods take bride price very seriously --"

"Other wizards don't?"

"My mum married for love," Ron exclaimed; "she says girls shouldn't be bought."

Harry remembered Olivia, with her short hair, saying she wouldn't be so cruel to her family as to go for free. "It can still be for love," he said. Belatedly, he realized that with six boys, Ron's mum and dad could hardly be expected to contribute to a son's bride price; Ron would be on his own for that.

"It's medieval," Ron said testily.

Harry, hoping to refocus the conversation, paused in reaching for his rain-damp cloak. He turned to Hermione. "How does that work? The gifts, I mean. Do you both get out of it because neither of you is a boy, or do you both have to do it because your partner is a girl?

Hermione, after a moment of silent shock, giggled helplessly and slid half-out of her chair.

"Good point," Ron said solemnly. "How does that work?"

Clearing her throat, Hermione struggled to stand and gather cloak and dignity about her. "Well, I suppose it depends on the girls. I think I will get her a present -- after all, that will be easy. She's a girl." She broke into giggles again.

"You may think buying a present for a girl is easy...." Even Harry had to chuckle at the gloom in Ron's voice. "I'm going with Lavender. She'll expect perfection."

"Can't see that, if she settled for you," Harry teased. He twitched back, grinning, from Ron's lunge, and Ron, after glaring at him for a second, accepted the comment as friendly.

"Oh, all right," he said. "But I better make it good. Will you help, Hermione?"


Hermione led them to a shop with jewelry and other pretty little things. A free-standing wall down the center of the shop doubled its space for hanging goods and narrow shelves. Every inch of the space was in use. Harry paused a few steps in to test the scent of the place -- a spicy musk that lent the glittering bracelets and silk scarves an exotic air. He picked up a narrow vial that shimmered with shifting pink and blue. He thought it looked like something from the lab of a rather girly mad scientist.

"What's this?"

"Makeup."

Harry put it down again. "Oh."

"Very nice makeup."

"Yes but ... that's rather personal, isn't it? I don't know what she wears." Harry thought back to Olivia in the stands. "Nothing like that, I think."

"She will for the ball, believe me." Hermione nodded. "But you're right -- she should pick that sort of thing out herself. Even an adaptive one like that needs to go with her skin tones the right way."

Harry moved on to the scarves and looked through them, trying to picture Olivia's coloring. She was blond, but not as pale as Malfoy. He could picture the soft blue of her eyes quite clearly, but wasn't as clear on her hair -- did it have a gold tone to it, or was it just sandy?

"Slytherins!" Ron muttered, and Harry glanced through the cluttered display out the window, and saw a group of Slytherin girls, including Olivia. He stepped quickly to the far side of the wall and gestured at Hermione and Ron. When he had caught their attention, he held a finger up in front of his lips. Hermione frowned and Ron shrugged, but both nodded.

The girls trouped in. They squealed and giggled over pretty things in much the same way as Gryffindor girls did, Harry thought. He tried to watch Olivia through a crack in the display wall, but often part of another girl was in his way.

"And what about your mystery boy, Olivia?" a singsong voice teased. "What will he get you?"

Harry saw Olivia shrug. She had a blue-green velvet scarf draped over her shoulder and was stroking it longingly. "A mystery," she replied lightly. She leaned over the counter. "Shall I tell Andrew you fancy those earrings?'

A dark-haired girl sighed. "A bit beyond him. I like to know he values me, but I'd hope he wouldn't be an idiot about it. I can't waste time on him if he is." She looked at the scarf that Olivia was still petting. "Those are pretty. Is there one in pink?"

"No, they're all dark."

"Here, Justina," said another girl. "How about this hairband?"


By the time the girls left, Harry was quite certain Olivia wanted the velvet scarf. For a few minutes, he was afraid she'd buy it herself, but she left with the others when one announced it was time to hunt down some chocolate. The door closed behind them with a jingle of bells.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed. Harry darted out and found the scarf. It was very pretty -- a thick silk velvet, dyed with mingled green and gold and burnt down the middle with an ivy pattern.

"Lovely, don't you think?" he asked Hermione. "It's only six galleons, though -- should I get her a pin for it?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're going with one of those Slytherin girls?"

"The short-haired one. Her name's Olivia."

"What?" Ron looked wildly between the two of them. "Harry, you can't! Hermione, dump the stupid girl and tell Harry you'll go with him!"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. "I wouldn't," both said spontaneously.

Harry laughed. "Well, glad that's settled. Relax, Ron -- she's not a Voldemort supporter, or anything."

"She's a Slytherin!"

"Is she a pureblood?" Hermione asked. She tried to make it a joke, but her voice caught. Harry shrugged. He rather wished he could say he didn't know.

"Yes, apparently. I've forgotten exactly what Draco said about it."

"Does y-- a certain man approve?" Hermione asked.

"Don't know -- I haven't told him." Harry turned to the jewelry, and found scarf clasps. He busied himself with asking about prices and materials and shut out his friends' disapproval completely. Eventually, Ron leaned close.

"I'm bored, here. Catch us up at Fiero's, next door?"

Harry nodded. "I'll just be a moment."

Once they had left, he bought the scarf and a clasp, along with a present for Hermione -- a wide hair slide of fine, golden wood, inlayed with vines of abalone and flowers of mother of pearl. He hurried next door.

Fiero's sold tools and things for around the house. Ron was looking at something in the back cabinet. Harry started over to him, but was distracted by a display of knives under a glass counter. He leaned over it to look. One particular blade of gleaming steel, with a hilt wrapped in gold wire, was so starkly beautiful that it made him shiver.

"Looking for a knife, are you?" a young man asked from behind the counter. "Fighting, utility, cooking, potions, or ritual use?"

"Um ... Does it matter?"

"Well, these are mostly utility knives. Some are charmed to cut a particular thing well -- like cloth, or wood -- or to not cut a particular thing -- like your skin, if you miss. Obviously, that's no good in a fight."

Harry gestured at the shining double-edged knife with the gold hilt. "What about that one?"

"Ah. That's a fine one for a gardener. Both blades are charmed to remain sharp for at least ten years. The narrow one is primed for wood, and the wider one for green plants, but either will cut anything you can usually put a blade to -- except living flesh -- or perhaps it's human flesh -- I'd need to check. At any rate, it won't cut the wielder."

"May I see it?"

The young man lifted the blade from the cabinet. He had a pleasant, wide face, with rich auburn hair and a short beard of the same shade. It wasn't until he was passing the knife over that he noticed Harry's scar.

"You'll be Harry Potter?"

"That's right."

"Didn't know you were interested in growing things."

"Oh, a friend of mine is." Harry could not conceal, however, his mindless desire for this particular knife. He ran his finger along the blade, first gently, then hard. It did not cut him. He held a few hairs half-taut and touched the blade to them. The blade cut through. Harry felt his face move with a strange smile.

"I'll take it."

"No good in a fight, remember."

"I know. I'll take it."

"The charms can be changed to some extent, but what is embedded in the steel will stay."

"I'll keep that in mind. This is perfect, for now, really."

"Good then. Will you be wanting a sheath?"

"I suppose."

"Belt, boot, chest, or thigh?"


Harry had just decided on a red leather belt sheath embossed in gold spirals, when Ron pushed up next to him.

"What are you getting?"

"A knife."

"A knife! Why?"

"Because it's gorgeous." Harry smiled at Ron. "What were you looking at?"

Ron shrugged. "Nothing, really."

"Show me."

"It's just some things Mum might like."

"So show me."


Harry ended up buying one of the things Ron had been looking at. It was a glass flower vase that changed its size and shape to accommodate the flowers put in it, and would complain when it ran low on water. He persuaded Ron that they could send it as a present from both of them.

"It's your money," Ron argued. "It's from you."

"It's your idea, nitwit. I never know what to get her. Shall we save it for Christmas?"

Out on the street, he showed Ron and Hermione the knife. "Sharp as a razor," he said, "but it won't cut people."

"What good is that?" Ron asked, disgusted.

"It's not like you cook," Hermione added. "Or do crafts."

"Well, let's see." Harry sidled up to Hermione and slid his shoulder along hers. His voice dropped. "I could ... cut off your clothes." Hermione's breath caught. Harry traced his finger lightly from her collar bone to her opposite ribs, crossing daringly over the edge of one breast. "One slice here ...."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice squeaked. She pulled away and ducked to the other side of Ron, but she was flushed and Harry could hear each breath she let out. He laughed raggedly.

"There. It just takes a bit of imagination." He met Ron's wide-eyed incredulity with a quick grin. "Who's for the Three Broomsticks, then?"

Hermione frowned. "Will you behave?"

"What fun is that?"

"I'm not your girlfriend."

"I know. I still like to make you pant."

"Don't you think that's a bit offensive?"

"I don't know. Are you enjoying it?" Harry frowned. "I think offensive would be if I presumed that doing this meant I could do more, or doing this today meant I could do it tomorrow. You tend to be clear if you're not in the mood."

Hermione sighed. "It's just ... I ... that was too much, Harry." She turned an even brighter red. "And people will get the wrong idea."

Harry shrugged. "They do that anyway, don't they?" He put an arm companionably on her shoulder. "All right, now?"

She bumped against him, pushing him slightly off balance, and reached out for Ron on her other side. "All right."


The main room of the Three Broomsticks was crowded and cheery. Harry was just bringing them all bottles of butterbeer when he spotted a familiar woman in the corner -- Remus's fostered werewolf, Selena Forest. She was sitting exactly where she had sat the time he had seen them together.

Back at the table with Ron and Hermione, he gestured to the side with his head. "Let's sit at the other end."

"I don't want to get up!" Ron complained.

Harry jutted his chin towards the corner. "I've got someone I want to keep an eye on." He went stubbornly back to the other end of the table, where he could see the werewolf, and sat down. Ron and Hermione moved over to join him.


They were halfway through their drinks, and Forest was still alone, when someone approached their table.

"Hermione?"

Harry looked up. A girl about their age was standing by the table. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Harry judged her to be about his size, possibly an inch or two taller, with some added width that was mostly in generous breasts and moderate hips.

Hermione jumped up. "Lydia! Um, Harry, Ron, this is Lydia."

Harry stood up and shook the girl's hand. Ron, rather more reluctantly, followed suit.

"Glad to meet you," Lydia said politely.

"Likewise," Harry said cheerfully.

Ron frowned. He stepped back from the handshake and crossed his arms over his chest. "Look ... I don't know what I'm supposed to say to a girl, but if you were a man, I'd be warning you that if you hurt her, I'll see to it you regret it."

Harry sniggered. "So consider yourself warned, and all that. Not that Hermione can't take care of herself."

Lydia, who had looked uneasy at Ron's words, smiled at Harry. Harry jerked his head at Ron. "He's the jealous one." He let that sit for a moment, then looked sidelong at her. "I'm the dangerous one."

Lydia's eyes widened. Hermione slapped Harry's arm. "Harry!"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Could you try to be polite?"

Harry laughed. "I am pulling a bit of a James, aren't I?" He winked at Lydia. "No threat intended -- just if you intend to see her, you'll end up seeing quite a bit of us, and you might as well learn how it works."

"Does it work?" Lydia challenged

Harry nodded. "Oddly, yes. Not always smoothly, but it works. In August, we made a pact -- none of us would date anyone that wouldn't tolerate the others." He grinned. "So, consider yourself warned."

"Oh." Lydia looked nervously at Hermione. From the other side, Harry gave his friend a nudge.

"All right, then -- we've said hello and done our duty. Is the girl having a seat, or are you running off with her?"

Hermione blushed. "Um ... maybe Lydia and I should sit somewhere else -- I've spent all morning with the two of you."

"Fine, then." Harry nudged her again, in silent affection. "See you in Gryffindor."


He sat back down and watched the two move off. He was just deciding that they made a pretty pair when Ron hit him on the arm.

"What?"

Ron looked oddly scornful. "You never actually wanted her, did you?"

"What? Of course I did." Harry suppressed a wistful twinge of longing. "Still do, a bit."

"Give it up! If you wanted her, you'd be jealous."

"I don't think that follows." Harry watched Lydia blush as she leaned forward to whisper to Hermione. "I mean, look at her! I can't get jealous of that! She's pretty."

"Oh, you want her, too?"

Harry laughed and tried to push down a shudder of enthusiasm. "Wouldn't say no. Doubt either one's the type, though." He looked back at Ron, and was distracted by a movement beyond him. "Heads up!" he hissed.

Ron just had time to look around before Selena arrived at their table.

"Hello, Ron," she said. She smiled at Harry. "And you would be Harry Potter."

Harry was tempted to greet her by name. In the nick of time, he realized that would endanger Remus. Adopting an air of tolerant patience, he said:

"Right. Have we met?"

"Um, Harry, this is Professor Lupin's, um, friend, Miss Forest," Ron said.

Harry thought Ron could have sounded a bit more convincing, but at least he had picked up on the basic idea.

Harry looked thoughtfully at Selena, as if he was trying to remember something. He nearly held out his hand before remembering he was supposed to be distrustful of Remus. He drew his lips momentarily tight, then said politely, "Remus and I are not on the best of terms, at the moment."

"Please," she said, leaning forward over the table. "Remus needs all the friends he can get. And he always speaks well of you."

All the jealousy he hadn't felt about Lydia surged in him now. Apparently, I can get jealous of a girl, if it's not romantic.

He may have grimaced; he wasn't sure. She drew back in a way that made him feel ashamed, as if he had been cruel to her. Harry decided she had less experience at subterfuge than he did, and for a moment, he felt a strange sense of kinship with her. He wondered if she cared for Remus as much as he did.

"Well, I need to run, now. If you see him, tell him I missed his company, will you?"

Harry nodded consent, and Selena left. For a full minute, Harry just sat and let his pounding heartbeat settle.

"Harry?" Ron was staring at him.

"I was wrong," Harry said. "I can get jealous of a girl."

Ron looked confused.

"Remus," Harry tried to explain. "Remus protects her."

Ron shrugged. "He doesn't seem to like her much. Anyway, why would you care?"

"He is my patron," Harry said testily. He noticed belatedly that he had used Draco's word for the relationship. "My protector." He slumped sulkily down in his chair. "And he loves her." He reached for his butterbeer.

If he hadn't been moodily staring at the bottle as he lifted it, he might have missed the dark mass at the bottom. As it was, he held the bottle between his face and the fireplace, slowly tipping it this way and that while he watched the liquid carefully.

"Oy, mate -- you all right?"

"Fine." Harry put down the bottle. In a light tone, as if relating a bit of gossip, he said, "There's a capsule at the bottom of my bottle. It hasn't fully melted yet. Shall we move on, do you think?"

Ron glanced in the direction of the door. "You think she --"

"Or an accomplice nearby, while she had us distracted. Come on."

Reluctantly, Ron stood. He made a move to drain his own butterbeer, then hesitated.

"Probably safe," Harry said, "but better not."

"Yeah."


They were a few steps out onto the street, and Harry at a loss for what to do next, when Ron suddenly caught at his shoulder.

"Harry!"

Harry recognized the tense sound that Ron's voice acquired when he had just figured something out. He was instantly alert.

"Yes?"

"Hermione's with Lydia."

"So?"

"So? So we can go to the Hog's Head, and get firewhiskey. Bet you anything they'll sell it to us."

Harry let his breath out slowly. "Ron. Someone just tried to poison me, or dose me with some potion. There are at least half a dozen things we cannot be careless enough to mention in public. I don't think going and getting drunk is really a good idea."

"We don't have to get really drunk. We'll just have one -- it can't be that strong."

"And if we relax too much?"

"We set it up before hand, all right? The problem is when you're looking around for things to talk about, it's easy to pick the wrong one. So if we just decide now that we'll only talk about girls, we should be okay."

Harry was not entirely sure of this. On the other hand, I'm fairly used to wine, now. It shouldn't be too bad.

"Come on -- you think acting like a girl is going to get you Hermione back?"

"I am not acting like a girl!"

"Girl," Ron taunted.

"I am not -- oh, all right, we'll get firewhisky." Harry glared. "But just one, and if I think you're losing control, we leave, no arguments."

"All right."

Harry hadn't taken two steps before he decided he had been incredibly foolish to concede. Even if it isn't any worse than wine, I'm still risking getting killed. Going there is bad enough -- there won't be any teachers there -- but being anything less than completely alert is just idiotic. I shouldn't be letting him goad me into this.

He had a sudden unpleasant memory of Snape taunting Sirius. And Sirius got himself killed acting just like this. And Ron actually likes me -- he'll get over it if I stand up to him. And if I do go, and we get caught, I'll hear much worse from my father -- and deserve it more.

Inside the Hog's Head, he inclined his head towards the tables. "Grab us some seats. I'll deal with the barman."

Ron hurried off. The momentary stares from the other patrons turned back to their drinks, or the door. Harry walked up to the bar.

"Firewhisky, please," he said.

The barman looked at him. Harry, as before, thought he looked oddly familiar. "Just one?"

"One, yes."

"Which?"

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure how, or even if, "firewhisky" was distinct from "whisky" but he knew there were hundreds of different Muggle whiskies, so it made sense that there would be different kinds of wizarding ones, as well. He rapidly scanned the bottles behind the bar for the word, and an interesting five-sided one on the top shelf caught his attention. He pointed. "That." He read the name off the label, quite sure he was mangling the obviously Gaelic words.

The barman's eyes widened to nearly open. He shrugged. "If you've got the money," he said. When Harry's only response was a cold stare, he shrugged again, and poured the amber liquid into a surprisingly clean glass. "One galleon, two sickles," he said.

Harry kept his face carefully blank as he handed over two galleons and waited for his change.

He set the glass down by Ron, then slid into the chair across from him. "There you go. Firewhisky. The good stuff, too, I think."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Wasn't planning on sharing."

"Neither was I." Harry leaned back. "Go ahead."

"What, you're not having any?" Ron sounded indignant.

"Right."

"You really have lost your nerve, haven't you?"

A cold anger settled in Harry's gut. "I've decided to grow up. Now have your damn whisky, and I'll make sure we don't get killed."


Ron argued and taunted, but eventually gave in. Harry caught an amused glance from an old woman at a nearby table, and found it cheering. He sent a quick smile back at her. He considered getting himself a butterbeer, but when he looked up at the bar, the old man had vanished.

Ron looked at his glass. "This is better than I expected." He took a small swallow, and his eyes widened then scrunched closed. Harry grinned.

"Like I said, I think it's the good stuff. It was in a weird bottle up on the top shelf."

Ron pushed it over. "Taste?"

"Some other time."

Ron shrugged and had more himself. After a moment, he shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I don't like the way you treat Hermione."

Harry was taken aback by this sudden pronouncement. He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the way you have your hands all over her until she runs away."

Harry snorted. "My hands haven't been nearly all over her."

"But you keep grabbing her, and ... and saying things. I don't believe you're in love, so don't even try to tell me that."

Harry shrugged. "I'm just teasing. I like getting her hot and bothered."

"I think she deserves a little more respect than that."

"I respect her!" Harry felt this was utterly unfair. "It wouldn't be nearly as much fun if I didn't. And I'm not the one who uses 'girl' as an insult."

"You're treating her like a toy!"

"I'm treating her like a playmate." Harry felt his face heat. "I mean, it's like tickling. I come on to her, she laughs and squirms away.... We're practicing, I suppose. It doesn't mean anything."

"Well it should."

Harry forced a smirk. "Ronald Weasley, you are an absolute prude. And you're not fooling anybody but yourself with that drink."

"This is important, Harry!"

"Why?"

"I love her!"

Harry fell back in his chair. "Please tell me you mean that platonically."

Ron took a deep breath. "No. I don't think I do. I want her back."

Harry lunged forward. "You're going to the ball with Lavender!" he hissed.

"So?"

"So now who's being disrespectful?"

"Look, I can't ... She wouldn't go with me any way. You know that...."

"And a damned good thing!" Harry sat up and thumped the table with a fist. "She's a horrible girlfriend --"

"Take that back!"

"Look, she a good friend, all right? And a brilliant ally. But as a girlfriend, she won't stay out of anything!"

"And no reason she should. That's her job, right? To keep m- whomever -- out of trouble."

"Oh, so you're supposed to be an idiot and you need some girl to keep you in line? Well, go right ahead then! She's perfect! But the first thing she's going to tell you is that you are going to the ball with Lavender, and you are damn well going to treat her decently."

"Well, why not? She's going with that bloody Amazon --"

"Lydia isn't any bigger than I am, and she certainly didn't look like a fighter."

"She's too big for a girl."

"Ron!"

Ron's eyes, however, went suddenly wide. He was staring behind Harry with an expression of terrified horror on his face. Instantly, Harry twisted off the chair, drawing his wand. He found himself looking back the door and, rather than the expected cluster of Death Eaters, Hagrid. Hagrid strode forward. Harry managed to be back in his chair by the time the big man reached them.

"Wha' d'yeh think yeh're doin', Harry?"

"Watching Ron drink. What does it look like?"

Hagrid hesitated and scanned the table. "Nothin' fer yerself?"

"Do I look stupid? If I want whisky, I'll have some back in Hogwarts, where I'm safe."

A broad grin split Hagrid's face. "Well, tha's good." He set a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Now ge' up, lad. I'm takin' both of yeh back to Professor McGonagall."

"Oh, come on," Harry pleaded. "I've been looking after him -- really I have."

"And yeh'll be in less trouble than he is, I'm sure. But I won' be leaving yeh here."

"What if we leave?" Harry offered.

"Harry, I can' keep i' from her! She'll be hearin' from someone, believe tha'."

"Could you wait until the end of the day, at least? We haven't even been to Honeydukes, yet."

An uncertain look crossed Hagrid's face. Finally, he nodded. "All righ' then. Up an' outta here, and if I see yeh back in here, I'm trottin' yeh back t'school and straigh' to the headmaster's office. An' I do tell your Head o' House tonigh'."

"Thanks."


On the street, Harry studied Ron. His friend looked resentful, more than anything else.

"Let's go to Gladrags," Harry suggested. "You could use a new cloak."

"I don't want more clothing, Harry."

"We were going to spend a bit of my fortune, though, remember?"

"Not on clothes."

Harry rolled his eyes. "God forbid you should look nice for Lavender."

"I have perfectly fine dress robes, thank you."

"Well, what am I supposed to spend money on, then? Do you want a crystal knife? A gold cauldron?"

Ron shot him an angry look. "Tell you what -- you can spend as much as you like on me as long as it's at Zonko's and Honeydukes."

Harry took in a long breath. "Fine," he said. "As many little boy presents as you wish."

For all that, they had fun once they were in Honeydukes. Harry couldn't fathom why anyone with a line to the twins would bother with Zonko's, but he bought everything that caught Ron's fancy. On the way back to school, they were playing with masks that morphed at every change of expression to a caricature of what the mask found in one's own face. Near the gates, Ron's became very serious.

"You only have two looks, now, you know: contempt and amusement."

"In this conversation." Harry forced a scowl, and Ron stepped back, gasping. Harry grinned. "I can still do fury."

"Fuck, yes." Ron was still catching his breath. Harry pulled his mask off quickly.

"You all right?"

Ron nodded and took off his mask as well. "Yeah. I think I've had enough of these, though."




Author notes: Chapter 74 -- Carelessness