Teamwork

17 -- Keeping Promises

The rest of the week went well. McGonagall agreed to two one-hour meetings a week: an assignment and discussion between lessons and dinner on Tuesdays, and a practical lesson on Sunday before lunch. Ron and Ginny both made the team on their own merits. Harry had been certain Ginny would, but less sure about Ron. His friend seemed to have grown into those lanky limbs over the summer, and had a much better sense of where his hands and feet were than he had at the previous year's tryouts.

"You know," he said to Harry, "in a way, it's good that you passed me over last year. This way, I know you really mean it."

With a grin, Harry slapped him on the back. "I mean it, Ron. You were the best one out there. Now, training you up to Cornelia's level may take until spring...."

"Oh?" Ron asked uneasily. Harry snorted.

"Relax, mate. It takes a couple of months with anyone."

Slytherin had their tryouts after lunch, so Harry spent an hour getting trounced by Ron at chess and claiming it was because he kept answering questions from the first years.

"Do you have to let them hang around?" Ron grumbled, as the set finally left.

"I like them," Harry said. "And Sammy needs a wizard to explain things to him; Rob tries, but he doesn't understand what Sammy doesn't know. Besides, after this year it will all be adults, all the time, won't it?"

Ron sighed. "Until my brothers start breeding."

"Well, you have that, I suppose." Fortunately, Ron didn't seem to notice the longing that Harry heard in his own voice. Harry sighed and accepted checkmate with good grace.

"Another?" Ron asked hopefully.

"I only submit to this humiliation once per day," Harry responded with a smile. "Besides, I'm meeting Draco."

"Oh," Ron said flatly.

"Dean," Harry called. "Come over here and take my place, will you? Ron wants another match."

Draco came into the Chamber of Secrets late and flushed. The fresh smell of autumn winds still clung to his hair.

"It went well?" Harry said, stepping back from their first embrace and sitting down again.

"Quite," Draco said, with a satisfied lift of his head. "Of course, all we had to fill was a Chaser position, but the competition was productively intense. And yours, my dearest rival?"

Harry smirked. "I chose impartially and have two new Weasleys."

"It can't have been that impartial, then."

"No, really. I wouldn't take Ron last year."

"He's improved?"

"Yes. And he was trying out for a different position."

"Hm." Draco moved the cover of Harry's book to read the title. "I can't see him as a Beater."

"The senior members of the team moved around some."

Draco looked up sharply at that. "By choice?"

"Of course, by choice!" Harry answered, exasperated. "I wouldn't have made anyone change just to get Ron on the team!"

Draco shrugged. "Well, I did suggest you flatter him."

Harry sniffed. "And I gave that the consideration it deserved."

Draco laughed. "All right. How is that Potions reading going?"

For a while, they studied, Draco helping Harry with Potions, and Harry helping Draco with Transfiguration. Eventually, however, Harry yawned and stretched.

"I suppose we'd better go find Myrtle."

Draco froze. "Oh," he said. He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose we could skip it?"

"Come on, now!" Harry chided. "We might need another favor from her later." He grinned. "Besides, I thought you didn't mind her looking."

"I don't mind; it just seems vulgar, now that it comes to it. I'm not a dancing girl." Draco sighed. "I don't suppose you brought any of that cognac down?"

"Two bottles, actually," Harry said loftily. "One good, and one very, very good. Want some?"

Draco considered a moment, and then sighed. "Not really. Let's come back here afterwards, though. I'll want to kiss you privately after kissing you in front of her."

"Hm." Harry thought. "Yes."

They left their things in the room, and emerged from their new entrance into the storeroom of cursed objects. Rather than head back towards the History of Magic classroom, and from there to the main staircase, they continued on past the side corridor and past empty rooms, to where Harry guessed they would find the spiral staircase at the back corner of the castle. He had never been there on this floor, but had on occasion taken it from the fifth floor to the third. He paused at the first of the narrow, deep windows, and looked out at a long, skinny finger of the lake. It seemed much larger and darker seen from here, only one floor up and in the shadow of the castle, than when he looked down on the glittering sunlit surface of it from the fifth floor. Behind the dark water, hills rose in muted purple and gold.

"Not much of a view," Draco sniffed.

About to argue, Harry realized that he was commenting on the narrow windows. "Yeah," he said. "These look like arrow slits that someone stuck glass in."

"Wand slits," Draco corrected. "And unlike many other windows, the glass in these has no protections against breakage."

Harry considered that. "So we could still use them if attacked?"

"Exactly."

Harry looked at the narrow strip of window and then back at Draco. "How can you tell?"

"Oh, I tried it, as soon as I'd learned the Repairing charm," Draco said. "As for how I knew to try, it's in Hogwarts, a History."

Laughing, Harry shook his head. "You and Hermione! We have to get you talking again."

"I would like that, yes."

They continued on in silence to the fifth floor, where Draco opened the door to the Prefect's bathroom with an easily audible "Suds and buds."

Harry snorted. "Who came up with that one?"

"Mercifully, I have no idea."

They had no sooner stepped in and closed the door than Myrtle shot up out of the floor drain. "Oh good!" she said. "I thought you weren't going to show, and I'd have to hunt through the toilets to get back at you."

Draco paled. Perhaps Myrtle had some idea how off-putting that was, because she immediately stepped back, clasping her hands and setting her head to the side. "Well, you are late, you know! Or I thought that. But then I realized that we hadn't specified a time."

"Oh. Well, we had Quidditch tryouts."

"Ooo! Together?" She cocked her head again. "No, of course not. You're from different houses."

"And the captains of our respective teams," Draco informed her, apparently tempted out of silence by the opportunity to tout his importance.

"My!" she exclaimed appreciatively. "Are you sure you won't take your shirts off?"

Harry laughed. "It doesn't do much for the upper body, you know. Not unless you're a Beater, and we're both Seekers."

"And no," Draco added, "we won't."

She giggled. "Did you find the rooms?"

"Yes, both of them. Your instructions were adequate."

"So...?"

The suggestive slide of her voice was inescapably a demand. His face going blank, Draco turned, and Harry turned to face him, reaching a hand up to touch the tight muscle of his jaw.

"Hey," he whispered, "it's me. We cuddled in front of the Wizengamot, remember?"

There was a huff of air against his face as Draco reacted, but then he stepped back. "I believe we promised five minutes," he said, casting a Timing charm with an efficient flick of his wand. "Five." With that, he stepped back, leaning in towards Harry as if they had continued uninterrupted. In a moment, his lips were brushing Harry's mouth, and Harry, mindful of what else they had promised and not wanting to be prompted, moved one hand behind Draco's head, but the other to his chest. He pretended to ignore the subsequent squeal from Myrtle, and when Draco tensed, he reacted instantly, twisting his hand into Draco's hair and pulling him into the kiss. Draco resisted for a few moments, but eventually gave in. Once that had gone on for at least a minute, Harry left his mouth to nuzzle at his neck.

"You pay attention to me," he whispered fiercely. "Me, not her." Draco nodded shakily, and took up the kiss again.

They left quickly after the time was up, and went quietly down the way they had come. In the corridor that led to the Chamber, they held hands, but still didn't say much. When they were settled on the furry plastic sofa, Harry sought about for a means to break the silence, and ended up asking Draco if there was a way to add protections to the Liber Geminus to garble the contents for anyone but them.

"I have a better idea."

"Oh?"

"Remember my father's hex? I've found a way to make them unreadable unless one of us is touching the book."

"But it won't hurt anyone," Harry demanded.

"No. That was an unnecessary embellishment by my father."

"Brilliant."

By the time they had finished with the spellcasting, they felt normal enough to move to the bed. Both of them were out far later than rules permitted, that night.

On Sunday, a number of the Slytherins left lunch early. When Harry saw Millicent crossing the floor after the others, he made his excuses and followed. She wasn't in sight when he stepped out of the Great Hall, but the blond Slytherin first-year girl was with her usual friend, just about to descend the stairs into the dungeon. Harry didn't remember the boy's name, but the girl's was hard to forget.

"Miss LeFay!"

She whirled, and stared, open-mouthed. He hurried up to her.

"Hi. Sorry -- I know we haven't officially met." He held out his hand to shake, and when she draped hers over it, remembered to raise it for a kiss, instead. She was so little that he had to bend rather low. "Would you tell me which way Millicent went? I was hoping to speak to her."

She giggled tightly. "Outside," she said. "I think she's in a temper, though, Mr. Potter."

He smiled, hoping the girl was telling the truth. By the way her friend was glaring at her, she might be. If Millicent had gone outside, she was likely to be in sight of the door for at least another minute.

"Thank you, Miss LeFay. And call me Harry -- everyone does, really, except some professors."

She beamed. "I'm Gentian."

"Lovely to meet you, Gentian." Harry bowed, and then grinned. "But I really do have to run. See you later!"

"You shouldn't have!" he heard the boy say fiercely, behind him. "He's a Gryffindor!"

Harry raced through the door. Millicent was plodding along the path to the lake, and he jogged to catch up.

"I heard back from the twins," Harry said, slowing to match pace with Millicent where the land flattened out. "They're sending the shell on tomorrow -- it can't be shrunk, and their large owls were out -- so we should be set for ingredients by Tuesday morning. Will you have brewing time during the week?"

She looked over, startled. "Hi to you too."

"Oh, sorry. Hi! But I thought you'd need to know that before you'd go for any chitchat."

She snorted. "Not too dim after all, Gryffindor. Yeah, I might be able to make time -- but we'll need to brew every two weeks." She sighed. "It's probably better to start on a day that we can always manage."

"Next Sunday, then?"

"I suppose," she said glumly.

"For today," Harry suggested, "let's check out the two places that I have in mind. We can at least get one ready to brew in."

She snorted. "You just want me for my rock-throwing abilities."

"Definitely. You throw rocks better than any other friend I have."

Her pace slowed, and she looked curiously at him. "Are we friends?"

"Aren't we?"

She turned uneasily back to the path. "I ... I hadn't thought of it that way."

Harry shrugged, trying to look neither hurt nor concerned. "Well, I enjoy your company. Let's leave it at that."

"That is less ... complicated." She bit her lip. "Thanks." Her face lit up with a broad smile. "I enjoy being with you too."

It was the next Friday that Harry finally decided to broach the subject of the divination with Ron. By the end of a long, hard Quidditch practice, Ron had entered a strange, loopy mix of exhaustion and elation that Harry recognized quite well, and he decided the time was right. When Ginny, from the door, asked if they were coming, Harry waved her on, but caught at Ron's sleeve. Ron looked curiously at him.

"What's up?" he asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "I just want to talk to you privately," he said.

"Me?" Ron answered stupidly. He sat down heavily next to Harry. "I mean, yeah -- of course."

Harry winced. "Have I been that bad?"

Ron shrugged. "Not this year, really, but last year was...." With another shrug, he trailed off, and Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I wasn't sure we'd ever be friends again," Ron admitted.

Harry nodded. "Neither was I, really." He looked down at the bench they were sitting on. "Is it too soon to ask you for favors, then?"

"Oh, you want a favor, do you?" Ron returned, eyebrows rising.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him. "Maybe."

"I.... You didn't...." Ron swallowed hard. "That's not why I'm on the team, is it?"

"What?" Harry laughed. "You prat! No. I wouldn't. Didn't we settle that earlier?"

"Well, how do I know?" Ron retorted, but more cheerfully. "All this time with Slytherins -- they could be rubbing off on you."

"Only one of them rubs off on me," Harry said slyly, and Ron winced.

"Don't," he whimpered, his hands covering his eyes, and Harry laughed.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist."

He took his wand out and flicked it towards the door in a detection spell. Nothing glowed, but he cast a general privacy charm to garble their words outside the room. Ron's brow furrowed as he watched.

"A favor, huh?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "Look, what I said about Draco thinking you have the Sight...." He took a breath. "I think he's right."

"You cannot mean that."

"Really, Ron. Everything you predicted for me last spring was right. I think you do, and I think that if the professor wasn't a complete fraud, you'd know it, rather than joking around and doing it by accident."

Ron stared back at him. "You mean it."

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay." Ron ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure I believe it, but maybe."

"Think it over, okay? Because I need someone who knows me well for that divination I told you about."

"The one with blood?" Ron yelped, eyes widening. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, that one. And it's illegal, like I said, so don't talk about it while you're thinking."

"Couldn't you do something else? There must be other avenues for divination."

Harry nodded grimly. "Yeah. The Seer suggested two others--"

"Okay, then!"

"But they're worse." Harry looked at Ron's incredulous expression and sighed. "She said she might be able to get something using the body of someone just murdered by him, or with unicorn's blood. I won't use either."

Ron's face twisted in disgust. "I'd hope not!"

"But my blood...." Harry shrugged. "I don't think that's actually wrong."

Ron nodded. "Yeah." He sighed. "Look, I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay. And I won't push; it's too big for that."

"Thanks."

They walked back to Gryffindor together -- with a detour to the kitchens, where the house elves happily gave them extra cake from dinner.

When they reached the common room, Neville looked up from his homework. "You got an owl, Harry," he said. "I gave it a treat, but it wouldn't give me the letter. It's up in our room."

Harry went upstairs. The owl was happy enough to the give the letter to him, and flew impatiently to the window as soon as he had taken the missive. Harry opened it to let the bird out, and then returned to his bed.

Dear Harry,

I know we have not been as close as I would like, but I hope you will consider re-evaluating your formality. If you have any doubt, be assured that I regard you as family.

As you expected, I am pleased to read that you will find it difficult to neglect your studies. I know that it is difficult to see the use of much of what you are taught, but believe me when I say that much of what seems trivial is the basis for knowledge that may later be critical to your survival. On a related note, please congratulate Hermione for me!

I hope to not need your advice about the old hovel, but thank you for the warning. As for Snuffles, I am confident in saying that he misses you as well, and wishes you could be with us often.

I confess to still being curious. Now that the summer is over, will you tell me where you concealed yourself?

Much love,

Remus

Harry smiled at the parchment. He penned a quick reply, addressing it to "Remus" and explaining about his contract with the twins, and their cooperative use of Polyjuice potion. When it was finished, he sealed it and headed off for the Owlery. Halfway across the common room, he was interrupted.

"Harry, sir?" Harry looked over quickly, and realized he was frowning when the young girl, a third-year that he was fairly sure was a Catherine or Katherine, stepped back in alarm.

"Sir?" he said incredulously, letting the source of his displeasure be known. Deliberately, he smiled. "I'm Harry; who are you?"

She swallowed, and missed the tease completely. "Um, I'm Katherine, Katherine McDuffie, third year. M'brother Robbie was talking to a Slytherin yesterday, and he said that you said that was okay."

A little defiance showed through at the last, and Harry felt his eyebrows lift. What else would I say? he thought, but he caught the words before they came out. Answers like that were fine when he didn't care (or was trying not to care) what people thought, but hadn't he and Draco decided that they not only should care, but should make an effort to sway others?

He thought for a moment. "Having finally started talking to Slytherins," he said, "-- talking, not fighting -- I definitely wish I'd done it earlier. I believe we can, and we ought to, find where we can cooperate."

Katherine scowled. "That boy will get him in trouble and cost us points, that's all."

"See, for you, it's still about points," Harry said, as kindly as he could, "about a big game. Even if what you think is true -- and it might not be -- that isn't what I care about anymore. For me, it's about Voldemort, and what's waiting for my year when we leave here. And it took me until last winter to realize that quite a few Slytherins aren't happy with their prospects either. If we keep ignoring potential allies because they have the wrong color tie, he's going to win the war, and the game doesn't matter next to that."

Nearby, Dean shifted uneasily. Seamus, with him, spoke up.

"Ah, it's fine for you, Harry, but 'tis a different matter for those of us without a Slytherin lover."

"I made friends with Millicent Bulstrode over the summer," Harry said hotly. "Draco didn't even know."

"It doesn't change the things they've said," Dean said quietly, "Draco included." He was looking down at his hands, which he was twisting together. "Gemma is still dead."

The words hit like a punch, and it took Harry a moment to catch his breath. "Gemma wasn't killed by anyone here," he said finally, keeping his voice even. "And we were children, and those of you with parents parroted them about a lot of things. You have to count more what people say when they start thinking for themselves."

"That's easy for you to say--"

"WHAT?" Harry choked on an involuntary laugh. "Pardon me? Target number one, here?"

"Yeah, but except for...."

"A half-blood? Bent?"

Dean flinched back. Harry looked steadily at him. "I really think I understand."

Dean looked away. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." He cleared his throat. "Still, if they start talking to Slytherins that young, they're bound to pick up bad attitudes."

"Or maybe the Slytherins learn younger that Muggleborn kids are normal people."

"You can't count on that."

"No, I can't, and I told them not to take what Slytherins said at face value -- but that it might be worth talking anyway."

By now, people around them were watching and listening. Katherine's face was scrunched up a little, as if she were trying to follow a difficult lesson.

"Do you really wish you'd tried younger?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"But it wouldn't have worked, would it?" he persisted. "By your own argument, you all had to be old enough. First years believe what they learn at home. Hell, half the sixth years still do!"

"I think even the first years can learn," Harry said, although he wondered if Dean was talking about himself, at the end, "but not in a vacuum." He shrugged. "Or maybe I'm not qualified to say. I never believed the Dursleys, because that would have meant believing I was inherently an unnatural, disgusting person...." He bit his lip. "Maybe I did believe that, when I was very young, but --"

"You knew you were gay then?" Dean blurted out. He cringed. Harry blinked. It took him a moment to tie that back to what he had been saying.

"Not that. I meant doing magic."

"What?" Katherine yelped.

"Well, they think it's horrible," Harry explained. "They didn't let me do my homework, some summers. Uncle Vernon said he wouldn't have that 'freakishness' in his house, and he locked up all my books as well as my wand." He was amazed he could say this, now. Maybe it was because he was never going back there? It would have seemed humiliating to admit to while he was younger, but now he was a legal adult, and he could talk about it safely in the past, he found himself thinking that could maybe help someone else, if he had a housemate too proud to complain about a similar situation. Sammy was looking a little too interested, and Harry hoped his home life wasn't as bad. "I was pretty well immune to it after a year here, though," he said steadily. "They're crazy, they hate me; I know that. I wasn't going to hate myself for them." He looked at Dean. "For that matter, maybe that's why I don't mind being bi, you know? I mean, a certain number of the standard slurs are words that I learned to tune out before I was attracted to anyone."

Dean turned his face away, but Seamus nodded slowly. "That explains rather a lot, I think," he said non-committally. "Though I think I'll still blame the Slytherins on hormones, myself."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a glance at the clock. He wouldn't mind getting hormonal with his Slytherin right now, but it was far too late to meet, even if he could get Draco a message.

"I need to run up to the Owlery while I can still be in the corridors," he said, remembering the letter in his hand. "Nice to actually meet you, Katherine. We can talk more later, if you want."

Harry didn't get an immediate answer from Ron, but when he related the conversation to Draco, they decided to start the base potion for divination. Harry thought wryly that between this and Millicent, he was going to spend all weekend brewing.

On Sunday, Millicent met him by the greenhouses after lunch, and they went into the secret tunnel under Greenhouse Four, and followed it down to a place where it widened out. The Tripwire charm that Harry had set before leaving on Tuesday was still in place, showing that no one had walked there since they left. He disarmed it temporarily and set down his bag. Millicent helped him fill the storage containers they had brought in when setting up.

"Why Murtlap essence?" she asked, frowning at the magically sealed vial.

"Ah -- as a cover, really. It's the other thing I'd definitely need if I was actually making healing potions."

She snorted. "You're good, Potter."

"Thanks."

"And who knows? Maybe you can sell it later."

Millicent didn't have the flair of someone who was gifted at potions, but she worked more meticulously at this one than Harry had ever seen her work at anything. Conscious that she would be taking what they produced, Harry did the same. The potion was a perfect currant jelly red when they finished it, which agreed with Millicent's notes. With simultaneous sighs, they stepped back from the cauldron, and then laughed at the unplanned harmony.

"Well, we seem to have done it," Harry said, sitting down on the dirt floor.

"Yeah." Millicent joined him. "Thanks for your help. I'm not sure how I would have managed adding the jack bean."

Harry shrugged. "No problem." He looked at the cauldron, although he couldn't see its contents from here, and tried to think back to her notes. He had reviewed the section for brewing this potion, but not any of the rest. "So, you take this once a day?"

Millicent nodded. "Before bed. And the book warns that I may wake up sore, but taking it in the morning leads to balance problems."

"Ah." Harry ran a finger along the floor, getting dirt under the nail. "And when do you start needing glamours?"

Millicent scowled, in a way that Harry would have found distinctly hostile a year ago. Now he was fairly sure that it just meant she was thinking hard.

"I don't know," she said finally. "Everything I've read assumes that you're doing this openly."

"Hm. Well, if you're taking this one for twelve weeks--"

"Thirteen," she said. "I'll finish on December 21. Auspicious, don't you think so?"

"Is it?"

"It's the solstice," she said. "Which is a point of change, right?"

"Oh, I see. Yeah. Anyway," Harry continued, "you can change a little, right? So maybe on the third and fourth weeks, I should do a glamour of how you look the second week, and then the fifth week, change it a little more...."

She shook her head. "No. I thought about that, but the thing is that I'm going home for Christmas. I can't look different to Mum and Dad."

"Ah." Harry grimaced. "I can't cast a glamour that will last two weeks. I can manage about a day on myself."

She gave a determined nod. "I'll have to learn it."

"I take it you have trouble with Charms?"

"Only some of them," she said. "I'm horrible at transfiguration, but I'm fine with some charms -- except all the appearance ones, unfortunately. I know they're not transfiguration, but they feel like it."

"Oh." Harry thought he'd have to think about that. He had managed to teach Neville a couple of things; maybe he could teach Millicent. "What name will you use?" he asked, suddenly wondering.

"What?"

"When you're a man."

She snorted. "I'm not going to tell you." At his incredulous look, she relented. "From what I know of you, you'd try to be nice, and work on thinking of me that way. And then you might mess up."

"Ah." Harry shrugged. "Point. But you know?"

"Yes. Though I might change my mind."

For a while, they both revised, but Harry found his thoughts drifting away from Symbology. He looked up.

"So, when are we meeting, every day?"

"Pardon?"

"For me to cast your glamour, until you can do it yourself. It will have to be every day, at the same time, or almost."

"Oh." Nervously, Millicent stood up. She paced over to the cauldron, looked in it, and walked back. "Between Potions and lunch, perhaps?"

Harry shook his head. "Not unless we bring Draco in on it."

"Is there a time you're not with him?"

"He's in all my classes except Symbology, on Tuesday and Thursday," Harry said. "But I have that slot free -- the second lesson after lunch -- on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and he's in Ancient Runes, then. Could we meet just before the last lesson of the day?"

She considered that, her face scrunched and leaned slightly to the side. "That could work," she said slowly. "I have a Forestry study with Hagrid, last period, and he understands that I need to walk down to it, and Professor Flitwick would understand that I may need to leave a few minutes early...."

"Hagrid?" Harry said.

"Oh." Millicent cleared her throat. "Well, he was trying to be nicer to the Slytherins, after the attack last spring -- at least the ones that were helpful -- because of you, I think. And Sprout sent me over for a detention, because I ruined something, and she told him I was too clumsy to work with anything smaller than a shrub...." Her mouth twisted.

"Right. And if anything would incline him to like you, that would."

She smiled gratefully. "Right. So he had me work with him on the paths at the edge of the forest, and actually some grounds-keeping work as well -- although we don't call it that -- and we got along."

Harry was pleased with that. "Good," he said.

"What about you? I heard you and Draco were doing something with Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah. She wouldn't let me pick up a project with Professor Snape, though. Said I wouldn't have time."

Millicent scowled. "She's probably right."

"Still. I think she's just keeping me away from him."

Her eyebrows came up. "And you object?"

"He knows things. He can be useful. If I can't defeat Voldemort, my N.E.W.T.s don't matter, do they?"

She gave him a hard look. "Very Slytherin of you, Potter."

"Just common sense."

"I suppose. My house doesn't expect that of yours, though." She lurched to her feet, and after peering towards the cauldron, stepped over to it. "Do you suppose it's cool enough to decant?"

"Let's see."

The potion was cool enough. They decanted it, and Millicent took her first dose. Harry watched closely, but saw no immediate change.

"Should anything happen?"

"Not right away. There may be some small change by morning."

"Ah." Harry drew his wand. "Shall I cast it anyway, then?" He grinned. "Not that I'll be able to tell if it works -- a glamour that makes you look exactly like you do now."

She snorted. "Go ahead."

Again, there was no visible change. Harry felt power coalesce in his wand and leave it, and the indescribable sense of a spell completing came back to him. Millicent said she felt the tingle of the glamour moving over her skin. That she looked no different told them nothing. Harry shrugged and tucked his wand away. "I'll remove it for a second before I recast tomorrow."

"You might not be able to see a change for a few weeks."

"Right. Oh! Do you have pictures of yourself? I might need those, later on."

Millicent grimaced. "I hate pictures."

"Think of it as a picture of what you're leaving."

"I still don't think I have any."

"Oh well. You'll need to hang out with me in public, then, sometime when Colin is around. He loves it when I ask for prints."

The brewing had taken almost two hours, and Harry, who had forgotten his Charms texts, had to spend the rest of Sunday finishing an essay. Hermione ignored him -- he suspected that she was annoyed that he had been away so long for two days in a row. He came back from meeting Draco on Tuesday in plenty of time to satisfy rules, but got the cold shoulder again.

Afterwards, he lay awake wondering if it would be better if there was an Uncommon room, so he could spend some of his time with Draco where she could be with them.