Love's Labours

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Chapter Four ~ Morning Routine

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Unfortunately for Harry, his dreamless sleep couldn't last forever. It seemed like he had been asleep for minutes, able to hide away in the peaceful darkness. Yet, no matter how he tried to close his eyes to the breaking dawn, he couldn't. Then again, being shaken as if one was in an earthquake would also inhibit one from sleeping.

"Come on Harry," Ron urged, shaking him even harder. "We're going to miss breakfast if you don't hurry."

Harry moved over in his bed, away from Ron's persistent grasp. He mumbled something incoherent before settling back down to sleep. Ron looked down at his long-time friend and sighed. As much as he wanted to let his friend sleep, he couldn't.

Crossing to the other side of the bed, Ron resumed his torment of the sleepy wizard. This time, Harry ignored him completely. Ron sighed to himself once more.

"Don't make me do this, Harry." Ron muttered under his breath. He gave Harry one last opportunity to get up before he pulled out his wand. "All right, you asked for it. Wingardium leviosa."

Ron did the neat 'swish and flick' motion they had been taught as first years, and Harry's bed covers floated a few feet above him. Ron directed the covers to the side of the bed, where they fell on the floor in a neat pile. At this, Ron expected Harry to rise from his slumber. Instead, Harry curled into a ball and mumbled something else at Ron.

"That's it!" Ron threw his hands up in the air. "What happens to you is your own bloody fault." Once again, Ron directed his wand at Harry. "Rictusempra."

Instantly, the tickling charm began to work as Harry began to laugh uncontrollably. Harry sat up in bed, laughing, yet glaring at Ron at the same time. Now sure that his friend was wide awake, Ron muttered, "Finite incantatum," and replaced his wand inside his robe.

"What in the name of Quidditch did you do that for?" Harry shouted, holding his sides.

"It's time for breakfast. We have to get down there and then we have classes. You're Head Boy, remember, you can't sleep the day away."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. Why was it that everyone took great joy in reminding him that he was Head Boy? Were they just happy for another excuse to make sure he was perfect? First the pressure of being the youngest Seeker in a century, then being made captain of the team. On top of that, Harry and Hermione were Prefects the past two years, only to be made Head Boy and Girl this year. It seemed to Harry that being in a "position of power" was just another way for everyone to watch him. As soon as he made a mistake, people made him feel like a complete idiot. Why him? Why couldn't he just be a normal wizard?

"Ron, please don't hold the title of Head Boy over my head. The rest of the school already does. I don't need you doing it too."

"I'm sorry," Ron apologized, "but I thought you liked being Head Boy! You were thrilled when the announcement came, but you didn't shove it in anyone's face like Percy did. And for that, I am quite grateful." He added. Ron paused for a moment, as if wondering what to say next. Instead, he took a deep breath, and glanced over at Harry.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Is there anything else you'd like to add, since obviously you know everything about my life..." Harry stared Ron down, as if bating him to take the challenge.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Ron asked, taking a different approach. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with his best friend. Especially since he'd need to take a quick glance at Harry's potions essay before class that morning.

Ron's question seemed to knock some sense back into Harry. He closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his temples. Ron reached out a hand and laid it on Harry's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice a much softer tone. Harry went to reply but Ron interrupted. "I don't want a bullshit answer from you either. They don't work with me anymore, and they don't work with Hermione. We both can tell when something's wrong with you. So, cut the crap and answer me straight. Are you alright?"

The mention of Hermione's name quickly grabbed Harry's attention. Immediately, a flood of memories washed over him as he recalled the scene the night before. Hermione in her nightgown. That sheer piece of fabric that left very little to his imagination. It was the first time he had really seen Hermione.

Just thinking about her brought a familiar ache to his bones. It was a want that he knew would never be sated. 'So,' Harry thought to himself, 'why torture yourself? You know she'll never go for you, when she can date a World Famous Seeker. She and Krum are perfect for each other.'

'But what about a World Famous Wizard?' A voice asked in the deep recesses of his brain.' Why wouldn't she want to be with The Boy Who Lived?'

"HARRY!"

The green-eyed wizard was brought rudely from his thoughts by Ron yelling his name and waving a hand in his face. Harry coughed once, as if that would be enough to rid himself of Hermione's spell... however she had managed to weave it was beyond him.

"Ron, I'm fine," Harry said, managing a weak smile. "Dreams again," he replied shrugging his shoulders. "We all know how often I have dreams. It doesn't matter. I've dealt with them before, and I'll deal with them now."

"But the last time..." Ron trailed off, his eyes growing distant. "You remember what happened last time. Maybe we should send an owl to Sirius. This will remain between the two of us. Hermione doesn't have to know. Come on, we could get to the Owlery before cl --"

"NO!" Harry interrupted, his voice rising unintentionally. "I don't want to endanger Sirius's life on account of a few dreams. We had this same argument four years ago. I'm a much stronger wizard now than I was then. I will deal with this. Don't worry about me." Harry paused as he glanced at his oldest friend. "Promise me you won't worry."

Ron didn't answer immediately. Harry knew that it was a lost cause, but still, he didn't want his friends worrying about him. Maybe if he distanced himself from them... if he died, it would kill either Ron or Hermione.

As Hermione's face flashed before his eyes one last time, Harry knew he couldn't go through with that plan. It would kill him not to see Hermione each day. Even if she never knew his true feelings for her... he couldn't stand to be away from her.

"Harry, that's a promise I don't know if I can keep," Ron replied quietly.

"I figured as much." Harry tried to smile once again, but his lips failed him. It felt as if a weight had been dropped on his shoulders. It was a rather odd feeling, and one he didn't care too much for. "Come on, let's go down to breakfast."

Harry turned and began to walk towards the door leading down to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Uh... Harry?"

He stopped and turned around. "What now?"

Ron covered his mouth to hide the laugh that threatened to spill from his mouth. The scene was quite comical. Harry, his hair in its standard state of disarray, was standing in front of the door, his hands on his hips... and he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Unless you want to give the girls down in the Great Hall a show, I suggest you put some clothes on," Ron sniggered.

The color drained completely from Harry's face as he looked down at himself. While he was no longer the skinny kid who had come to Hogwarts seven years ago, he had no real desire to show off his well trimmed chest to the girls. Unless it was Hermione down there... and they were alone...

At that thought, the color quickly returned to his face as he felt his cheeks burn red-hot. Ignoring Ron's futile attempts at covering his laughter, Harry ran back towards his bed to get dressed.

"No, Harry," Ron gasped out, amidst his laughter, "you should go down like that. I'm sure Malfoy would absolutely love to see you in a pair of boxers with little lightning bolts on them."

Harry whirled around and threw the shoe that was in his hand at Ron. It hit him square in the chest and bounced towards the floor. Ron rubbed the spot where the shoe had hit as he glanced at Harry.

"Don't ever make a comment like that again, unless you want to be hit with something harder."

***

Luckily for Harry, the Common Room was deserted when they arrived. Harry let out a sigh of relief that went unnoticed by Ron. He was glad he didn't have to face Hermione this early in the morning. He was still kicking himself over his strange behavior last evening. Hopefully Hermione hadn't noticed. Or, if she had, maybe she had assumed it was because he was tired. Well, one could hope, right?

Getting down to the Great Hall was rather uneventful. The duo stopped long enough for Harry to point a few first years in the direction of the Great Hall. The first years, two Hufflepuff students, hurried away from Harry quickly, giggling as they went. Harry sighed to himself. Couldn't someone at least look at him without staring in awe at the scar or giggling about him in some way? Of course his friends had no problem looking at him as a normal person. But that was because they knew him. Frankly, Harry was sick and tired of the special treatment he received from people. He wasn't the best wizard in the school. That position belonged to Hermione.

As if on cue, Hermione rounded a corner, carrying a rather large book in her hands. Harry's eyes swept over her briefly. Thankfully, he didn't lose his power of speech just by looking at her. Still, he knew what those robes covered...

Harry mentally slapped himself. He was not going to go to putty today. He repeated that thought over and over again in his mind.

"I'm glad I ran into you guys," Hermione said with a smile. "I wanted to grab a book from the library before class, since I probably won't have a chance to get back there again today... with studying and all..."

Ron looked at the size of the book. "A bit of light reading?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No. It's a book designed to help students study for their NEWTs. Which I'm sure neither of you have started studying for yet."

Harry laughed as he took the book from her hands. "Hermione, the NEWTs are five months away. We have time yet." He flipped through the book quickly, and then handed it back to her. "Relax. Enjoy the month... we can start studying after the first of the year. There will still be four months left."

"Boys," Hermione muttered as she slipped the book into her satchel. "Now, are we going to breakfast before potions?"

Harry nodded. "Ron and I were on our way there. We didn't know if you had eaten yet, since you weren't in the Common Room."

The trio began to walk towards the Great Hall, Hermione starting to stress over the NEWTs and Harry and Ron trying to calm her down. They sat down at the Gryffindor table and each loaded their plate with the standard breakfast fare. Breakfast had just about concluded when Ron turned to Harry.

"Hey, do you mind if I take a look at your potions essay? I haven't quite finished mine."

Before Harry could respond, Hermione did so for him. "Ron! You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "We have class in ten minutes. How much of it isn't done?"

Ron used a cough to cover his answer. Hermione merely raised an eyebrow at him. "What did you say?"

"All of it..." Ron muttered under his breath.

The color completely drained from Hermione's face. "RON! I can't believe you!" The color returned just as quickly as it left as Hermione began to give Ron a thorough tongue lashing. "I can't believe you'd be that irresponsible. You know that Snape loves to take points from Gryffindor. This is an open invitation! And if your essay resembled Harry's in any way, he'd take double the points!"

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "Well, if a certain captain wouldn't make practices so bloody long, maybe I could get my work done."

Harry swallowed. Practices were lasting a bit longer than usual. But Harry couldn't pass up the chance to keep his team in top shape. It was the mildest December they had had in years... so Harry was taking advantage of it. There was a rumor floating around that there would be one final Quidditch match this year if the weather remained as mild as it was. Therefore, Harry couldn't afford to let his team's condition slip. They had to win the Quidditch Cup again this year.

Hermione turned her furry towards Harry. "And you!" Hermione said, moving in her chair to face Harry head-on. "Why don't you ease up on the practices? You know Gryffindor is going to win again. You came in late last night too... and were up until God knows what time writing."

"Hermione, lay off," Harry replied coolly. "No one knows who will with the cup this year, least of all you. I got my work done... so who cares how late I've been up?" Hermione made a move to say something else, but Harry held up his hand. "Don't fret about it. Everything will work out." Harry glanced over at Ron and then looked at his satchel. No words were exchanged, but Ron figured out the message. All that was left was Hermione looking rather perturbed.

Next to him, Ron was digging through Harry's satchel, looking for the rolled up parchment. Yet, no matter how he dug, there was no essay to be found.

"Uh... Harry? There's no parchment in here."

Harry's eyes grew wide as he grabbed the bag from Ron. "What do you mean? I know I put it in there when I finished..."

Instantly, Harry's memory replayed the night before. He hadn't put the essay in there... it was still sitting on his bedside table. Harry cursed under his breath and jumped up from the table.

"It's in the Tower!" Harry swore. "You guys will have to keep Snape busy to make sure he doesn't see that I'm late."

"Harry..." Hermione began, stopping Harry in his tracks.

"What? I don't have the time to talk. If you're going to berate me, do it later... I have no time."

"Just," Hermione paused, "be careful... and hurry."

Harry nodded curtly and sprinted out of the Great Hall. Thankfully no one stopped him on the way to the Gryffindor Tower. He ran up the steps to his dormitory and found the two rolls of parchment just where he left it: on his bedside table. Grabbing them, Harry quickly made his way back the way he had come. He was halfway to the lower dungeon when he heard the bell ring, signaling the start of class.

Swearing once again, Harry picked up his pace. He reached Snape's dungeon and thankfully, the door was still open. He slipped quietly into the classroom and found his seat. Towards the front, Hermione was keeping Snape occupied. Ron glanced over at Harry.

"Did you get it?"

Harry nodded and tried to slow his heart which was beating a mile a minute. Then, as if he had an internal radar tuned to Harry's frequency, Snape looked over at Harry.

"Well, well, well... look who finally decided to join us." Snape crossed his arms across his chest and pushed past Hermione. His face twisted into a malevolent grin as he moved towards Harry. "I guess Mr. Potter, once again, believes that he can bend the rules to fit his own needs."

"But Professor," Harry broke in, knowing it was useless to argue.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor."