Power of Love

CHAPTER 3 - CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Harry and Ron accompanied Hermione and Ginny to the entrance hall to catch their coaches to the Hogwarts Express. As Ron hugged his sister goodbye, he muttered, "Get the scoop on Hermione and Anthony Goldstein, would you?" Aloud he called cheerfully, "Happy Christmas! See you in a few weeks!"

Then suddenly, nearly everyone had gone, and Ron and Harry were standing at the top of the stairs, watching the carriages move quickly through the light new-fallen snow. Ron shivered, but he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold. His stomach was knotted up again - he found he was very nervous to be alone with Harry.

Harry must have been nervous too, because Ron noticed him fiddling with the buttons on his robes. He looked at Ron and quietly cleared his throat.

"Well, here we are then," Harry said.

Ron nodded uncomfortably. Somehow the thought of spending countless hours in Harry's arms was much less terrifying when there was absolutely no chance it could occur. Now there were no excuses - he was going to follow through on his month-long fantasy and the prospect scared him silly. They headed back to Gryffindor Tower, and Ron was suddenly aware of how silent the castle was without hoards of students milling about. Their footsteps echoed in the hallways, and when they spoke, the sound of their voices reverberated off the stone walls.

Ron followed Harry through the portrait hole and up the stairs to their dormitory. He wondered anxiously if the sound would echo off the circular walls and carry to the other parts of the tower. Harry shut the door behind them, took hold of Ron's hand and led him to his four-poster.

Ron's breathing was shallow and his heart was racing. His stomach was in such fits that he started to panic. "Harry, this is making me nervous. Will you be angry if I retch on you?"

"Yes," said Harry, "so please don't."

He took off his shoes and climbed behind Ron, who was sitting on the bed. "Let's see if we can get you to relax," Harry purred. He put one of his hands on each of Ron's shoulders and started to knead his neck muscles with his thumbs. It felt very nice to have Harry touch him this way. "That's right," Harry continued softly, "take deep breaths and relax your shoulders."

Five minutes later, Ron was putty in his hands. Harry had persuaded him to lie on his stomach on the bed, and his shirt was lying in a crumpled mess on the floor. Harry's deft fingers had discovered muscles Ron never knew he had, but every time he was feeling totally relaxed, Harry would lean down and trace the outline of Ron's spine with his tongue or leave a trail of little kisses along the back of his neck, tensing him up again. It became clear to Ron that Harry was enjoying giving this attention as much as he enjoyed receiving it. Ron tried to look at Harry's face, but his neck wouldn't turn that way, so instead he got a waist-down view that gave testimony to Harry's excitement.

Instinctively, he reached out for Harry's zipper, but Harry pulled away before Ron could lower it.

"Right now we're doing you, not me," Harry insisted.

"But I want to see it," replied Ron, "and touch it." He was surprised by his own boldness, and was thrilled when Harry stopped massaging him and dropped his jeans to the floor. "That too," Ron said, pointing at Harry's underwear, which were promptly left discarded with his jeans.

The sight of Harry stripping before him nearly pushed Ron over the edge with desire. He got to his feet and went to work on his own trousers, and soon they disappeared as well. The two boys were now both standing, Ron in his socks and Harry in socks and his shirt, which was unbuttoned and falling part way off his shoulder. They embraced, and Ron reached down to chart the unfamiliar territory of Harry's body. Ron lowered his lips to Harry's and their tongues darted into each other's mouths while Ron continued to touch him. Harry's hand touched Ron at the same time and it wasn't long until Ron was gasping, "Oh...Merlin...yes!" as the ecstasy washed over him and he came with the force he couldn't control. Harry followed suit seconds later, and the two of them collapsed on the bed, barely coherent and giggling like two of Harry's first-year groupies.

After a few minutes of cuddles and caresses, they sat up and surveyed the room. Pointing toward the pile of clothes that had been hastily cast aside, Harry commented, "We'll need to be working on our stamina, I guess."

"Sorry," blushed Ron. "I didn't expect it to be so...intense." He glanced at Harry, who was obviously trying hard not to laugh. "What?"

"Well, when I was fantasizing about us, I imagined we'd actually make it to the bed first."

"Come on, then," said Ron, pulling back the covers on Harry's bed. He slipped between the cool sheets and held up the corner, inviting Harry to join him. As Harry slid into bed next to him, Ron added, "Is this more like what you were expecting?"

"Mmmmm," replied Harry, whose lips were now thoroughly occupied with the hollow of Ron's neck. Ron's hands were all over Harry, softly caressing the small of his back and tracing the slender curve of his torso. He had no idea what he was doing, but he took his cues from Harry. If he did something that caused Harry to gasp, he made a mental note to do it again.

Unlike their previous frantic gyrations, this time their lovemaking was slow and methodical - starting at a low simmer and building to a fever pitch with their fingers and tongues and limbs entwined with one another's. Ron nibbled gently on Harry's earlobe and whispered some dirty little words in his ear. A few seconds later, he felt Harry's release. The thrill of making Harry that excited was enough to send Ron over the edge too.

* * * * *

By the time they turned in for the evening, Ron and Harry were lethargic from having done nothing but lounge in bed all day. They'd taken showers so they would be presentable for dinner (Ron found he was famished, having missed lunch!), and after eating, they had retired back to their dormitory. Their erotic desires having been sated for the time being, they were reading side by side, half-dressed on their stomachs on Ron's bed.

"I'm tired," said Harry, as he rolled over and looked at the clock. "It's half past ten - we should go to sleep. We have a busy day planned for tomorrow."

Ron looked at him curiously. "We don't have any plans for tomorrow. What are you talking about?"

Harry took his glasses off and set them on the table beside the bed. "Tomorrow," he said with a grin as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and slid into Ron's bed, "is the day I'm going to teach myself how to give you a blow job."

"Oh, now I'll be able to sleep," said Ron, getting into bed with him. He picked up his wand and called out "Nox." They fought for territory in the dark, two nearly full-grown young men in a student-sized bed. Finally, they both settled on their left sides, spooning together so they could enjoy the feeling of each other's flesh against their own.

Ron lay awake for a long time, listening as Harry's breathing became slower and slower. He was trying to figure out what he did to deserve having this extraordinary person, the famous and sexy Harry Potter, close up against his body and sleeping naked in his bed. And there was that feeling, the one he'd only remembered having a few times before, that was like a hunger, but was more desperate, more...primal, than anything he could describe. For the first time he allowed himself think, Is this what it feels like to be in love?

* * * * *

After a restless night, Ron awoke early with a stiff neck and his arm tingling from the weight of Harry's shoulder cutting off his circulation. He extracted himself from Harry and quietly got out of the bed. He pulled on his dressing gown and turned to watch Harry sleep. God, he was beautiful. Sleeping peacefully with his head on Ron's pillow, his lightning bolt shaped scar barely visible in the dim light of the winter morning, Harry looked vulnerable and calm...and happy.

How Ron wanted him to be happy! Harry didn't often talk about the traumas he'd been through, but Ron knew that the scar on his forehead was nothing compared to his deep emotional scars. Yet he somehow got through it all and managed to be cheerful most of the time. For some reason, being with Ron made him happy. As Ron considered it, he knew Harry wasn't in this relationship, with all its inherent risks, for Ron's benefit. No, he had definitely chosen to be with Ron because it was what he wanted. Ron suspected he had received a fair number of propositions for sex over the past year, ever since the truth about You-Know-Who's return became known. But, as far as Ron knew, Harry had never acted on them. So what could Ron give him that no one else could? Ron didn't have anything that wasn't rubbish, and he wasn't very good at sex yet (but he was willing to work on this). The thing Ron had going for him, he decided, was unquestionable loyalty and unconditional friendship. He'd never let Harry down, just as he knew without a doubt that Harry would always be there for him.

Ron watched as Harry's eyelashes fluttered and his arm moved to the spot where Ron had just been sleeping. He opened his eyes when his brain registered that Ron was no longer in the bed.

"I'm right here," Ron said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Harry.

Harry rubbed his eyes and blinked. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past seven."

"Why did you leave? You never get up this early when we don't have lessons." Harry sat up and reached for his glasses.

"My arm fell asleep. I don't think these beds are meant to sleep two seventh-year boys, mate," Ron replied with a smile.

"Well, no, they wouldn't be, would they?" chuckled Harry. He stretched his arms over his head and reached over to kiss Ron. "Did you have pleasant dreams?"

"No, I don't think I dreamt at all. I hardly slept. I noticed you were sleeping like the dead, though."

"I must have been worn out by all our activity yesterday," said Harry, smugly.

They decided to go down to breakfast and found, to their delight, a small group of students in the midst of trying to organize a pick-up Quidditch game. With Ron and Harry joining, they were able to put together a five-on-five match. Even though there was still a dusting of snow on the ground, the sky was bright blue and it promised to be excellent flying weather.

Ron and Harry played their customary positions for the same team, and the other team had the Keeper from the Slytherin House team and a Chaser from the Hufflepuff House team. There were a few students who were reserves for house teams too, so it was a surprisingly good match-up. Harry purposely didn't look that hard for the Snitch, as he didn't want to end the game before he'd had a chance to get some good flying in. He had now decided that the two best things in the world were flying on a broomstick and sex. The order was still up for debate, since he was very proficient at flying, but still lacked experience with sex. He flew over towards Ron who was watching while their team was attempting to score on the other side of the pitch.

"How many points do I get if I catch your Snitch," Harry called as he got close. He saw Ron blush.

"One Hundred Fifty, of course. Unless you catch it in your mouth like you did during that match against Slytherin our first year. That would be worth loads more points."

Ron flew off in the direction of the far goal post as the other team's Chaser stormed towards him. Harry watched as Ron guessed correctly and made a diving save. Harry then noticed the other team's Seeker diving towards the middle of the field and raced forward to see if she'd seen the Snitch. With the speed of his Firebolt, he arrived just in time to cause her to veer off target, and when they wheeled around to find the Snitch, it had vanished again.

After several hours and a dozen near misses, Harry finally caught the Snitch. It was close to lunchtime, and everyone looked cold and tired. They headed up the hill to the castle and piled into the Great Hall, where large tureens of stew and freshly baked bread were waiting for them.

There were only fifteen students staying for the holidays. In addition to the players from their impromptu Quidditch match, there were two Gryffindor second-year girls, a first-year Slytherin boy and two fifth-year Ravenclaws who appeared to be a couple (girl and boy) and were being heavily scrutinized by the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost.

Harry and Ron ate ravenously and helped themselves to seconds and thirds, as if still trying to make up for the lunch they'd skipped the day before. Now warm and well fed, they leisurely made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Grab some clean clothes and follow me," said Ron once they returned to the dormitory.

Harry cleared his throat and responded, "I was thinking I might get on with my lesson for the day. Wait, Ron, where are we going?"

Ron had already started back down the stairs and didn't answer. As Harry followed him through the common room, the two second-years asked where he was going, and he shrugged as he followed Ron out of the portrait hole.

Ron led them to the fifth floor, down a deserted hallway and around a corner. There was a statue of Boris the Bewildered, and at last Harry knew where they were going. Four doors to the left of the statue, Ron said, "Spring green," and the door opened.

"I'm the only prefect here, so we won't be disturbed," Ron said, motioning Harry inside. "Of course, the teachers can get in..."

"And the ghosts," chimed in Harry, remembering his last visit to the Prefects' bathroom when Moaning Myrtle had helped him work out the Golden Egg clue from the Triwizard Tournament.

"Right, the ghosts too. So we'll have to be a bit careful." Ron turned on the taps and the tub began filling with water and bubbles. "Did you notice that poor Ravenclaw couple? I'll bet they had the same idea we did, but the Grey Lady isn't going to give them a moment's peace."

Harry noticed that the mermaid in the painting was watching them, which gave him all the more reason to be wary of being intimate with Ron. They got into the tub, which was nearly full, and Harry swam over to where Ron was turning off the tap.

"That mermaid is going to watch everything we do," Harry whispered. Ron looked at him, and then the mermaid, and nodded.

Despite the fact that they were heavily chaperoned, Ron and Harry stayed in the bath for nearly an hour, swimming, having bubble fights and generally playing in the tub. After a horrible night's sleep and nearly three hours on a broomstick, Ron felt particularly refreshed and relaxed when they made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

"How did you know about the nosy mermaid?" Ron asked when they got back to their room. "I never noticed her, and I've been using that bathroom for two years."

Harry told him about Cedric's advice and the offer to use the Prefects' bathroom during the Triwizard Tournament, as well as his encounter with Moaning Myrtle. "It sort of makes one paranoid with all these ghosts and pictures watching, doesn't it?"

"If I wasn't paranoid before, I am now. I guess it's good to think about, though. I would hate for our brilliant plan for secrecy to be blown to bits by a gossipy picture." Ron stopped talking as he noticed that Harry had turned down the covers of his bed, poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher by the window, and was now removing most of his clothing.

Harry reached out his hand to Ron and pulled him close. Ron looked into Harry's radiant green eyes, and recognized "the look" immediately. There were no words to describe it other than pure, unadulterated lust. Harry was undressing Ron with his eyes, and without saying a word, he was able to invoke that same passion within Ron. Ron felt his stomach knotting up again, but this time it wasn't nerves - it was that hunger or passion or lust that he knew he couldn't control.

Harry began to remove Ron's clothes, first the jumper, then his t-shirt, belt and jeans. After each item was discarded, Harry kissed the newly exposed flesh, sweet with the perfume of their bath.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I'm afraid my education will require certain sacrifices on your part," whispered Harry, who was teasing Ron by fiddling with the waistband of his underwear.

"I'm happy to do all I can for the furthering of your education, Harry. You know that," Ron responded, now getting very short of breath. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Harry did, indeed, tell Ron exactly what to do. And once Harry began his so-called lesson, Ron took over the commentary, telling Harry what he was feeling and identifying which things he liked better than others. At one point, Ron's feet went numb and he was trying to remember all the leaders of the Goblin Rebellions so that he wouldn't prematurely end the lesson. Finally, when he could no longer stand the exquisite torture coming from Harry's mouth, he begged Harry to speed up and gave in to the indescribable sensation.

Harry crawled up to lie next to Ron, who, he worried, might have passed out. A minute or so passed with neither of them speaking, but Ron's chest was still heaving rapidly as Harry lovingly caressed his skin.

"I can now die happy, Harry," said Ron finally. "I'd grade you an Outstanding for that."

Harry laughed, "You're not exactly discriminating, but it's nice to know you appreciate my efforts."

"Appreciate? Are you kidding? For a while there I couldn't feel my feet! You were incredible! As soon as I can move, I'll return the favor." Ron paused. "Did it...you know...taste bad?"

Harry considered this, trying to remember, and then burst into a huge grin. "No, it didn't taste bad - didn't really taste like much actually. But I was just thinking...You know Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans? They really do mean every flavor!"

"Ugh! Do you mean you've gotten one that tastes like...that?" Ron wrinkled his nose with disgust.

"Yeah, I think so," replied Harry. "Maybe a couple of times, but I could never identify the flavor."

They laughed, knowing they would never feel the same way about Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans again.

* * * * *

Not wanting Dobby or any of the other house-elves to become wise to their new sleeping arrangements when they brought in Christmas presents, Ron and Harry each slept in their own beds. Ron thought this would greatly improve his ability to get a good night's rest, but he found himself waking repeatedly, listening for the sound of Harry's breathing and longing for the warmth of Harry's soft skin against him. Sure enough, when Ron was woken early Christmas morning by the bizarre voice that belonged to Dobby and a yelp of pain from Harry, he knew they had made the right decision, and was quite pleased that Dobby had been prodding Harry and not him. Harry and Dobby exchanged presents (socks!) and then Dobby left them alone to enjoy their morning in peace.

Ron crawled into Harry's bed and wrapped his arms around him. "Happy Christmas, Harry," he said softly into Harry's ear.

"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry answered. He turned his head and kissed Ron, still gripping the hideous pair of aquamarine tube socks that had been his gift from Dobby. "Look at all these presents I've got this year, Ron! Can you believe it?"

It never ceased to amaze - and amuse - Ron that Harry would get so excited about presents on Christmas morning. It's not that he cared what they were - even the outrageously ugly socks from Dobby gave him a thrill. Harry was like, well, a kid at Christmas. Ron knew Harry's delight grew out of ten years of jealous rage at watching his cousin Dudley open mounds of presents while Harry opened nothing but rubbish. Still, it was so much fun to see the pure joy emanating from his face and the delight sparkling in his beautiful eyes.

"Go on, then," Ron said, nodding at the huge pile of presents. Ron didn't move, except to shift his arm from Harry's shoulder to his waist.

Harry glanced over at Ron's pile of presents, which was nearly falling off his bed. "Aren't you going to open yours?"

"No, I'll wait. I'd rather watch you."

Harry gave him a look as if he were sprouting fifteen heads, shrugged, and pulled over the first package. It was long and thin and wrapped in black tissue paper. Harry read the card - it was from Hermione.

"At least it doesn't look like a talking homework diary," said Ron hopefully, reminding Harry of the gift they'd each gotten from her two years ago that nearly drove them mad.

It turned out to be a quill, enchanted to be self-inking. "This is great - should come in useful while we prepare for NEWTs," Harry said with a smile.

He opened several more presents, including the latest Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes from Fred and George, the traditional Weasley jumper (green again, to match his eyes) and mince pies, and a few other things from Hagrid and from his friends in the Order. There were handfuls of Honeydukes candy sent by a variety of hopeful, but soon to be very disappointed, first- and second-year girls. Finally, he got to Ron's packages.

"Which one should I open first?" asked Harry, staring at the three parcels of various sizes.

"Doesn't matter. I got you little things this year, instead of one big present," Ron answered.

"You already gave me a big present," said Harry, grinning.

"What...you mean because I stayed here over Christmas?"

"That, plus the best blow job I've ever had."

"How many have you had?" Ron asked, with his eyebrows raised.

"One."

Ron tried his best to imitate Snape. "You are too easily satisfied, Mr. Potter. You have no idea how very far behind you are..." Ron and Harry laughed for a moment before Ron continued, "Besides, that wasn't your Christmas present - unless you'd like to suggest that every day should be Christmas!"

"Listen to you! How easily corrupted you are with a few well-placed kisses. If you aren't careful, I'm going to start getting ideas, and then you'll never get to open your presents."

"You're the one who's stalling," said Ron. "Just pick one and open it."

Harry picked up the largest of the three and ripped off the brown paper. They both laughed as he pulled out an enormous box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"I'm going to pick out all the likely ones and compare the taste. Then we'll know for sure," chuckled Harry, putting the box aside.

The next package contained a small volume called 1998 Guide to the International Association of Quidditch. It contained statistics on all the teams in the Association and rosters of players signed to the 1997-1998 season. "Blimey, Ron, this is brilliant! I didn't know you could find out all this stuff about the teams. Here, let's find Wood." Harry flipped through the pages until they found Puddlemere United, and followed down the column until he saw "Oliver Wood, Keeper." He pointed in the book and showed it to Ron, and smiled broadly again.

Ron's heart filled with emotion. It was just a stupid book, but Harry was acting as if it was the whole bloody library. Ron couldn't ever remember getting so much enjoyment out of watching someone else's happiness. Come to think of it, he couldn't ever remember giving more than a fleeting acknowledgement to someone else's happiness. He just knew he wanted to keep that smile on Harry's face, and that he'd do anything to keep from ever disappointing him.

Harry examined the third package with great curiosity. It was very small, only slightly larger than a Snitch. He carefully peeled off the tissue paper wrapping. Inside was a necklace - a thin but strong silver chain with a red stone charm on it that was no more than two centimeters long. It was shaped like a knot, with tassels carved on the ends. Harry turned it over in his hand and examined the back, which was nearly identical to the front.

"What is this?" he asked, squinting up at Ron. "It looks really old."

"It's called a Tyet of Isis. It's an amulet that is supposed to offer anyone who wears it protection from every kind of evil. When we were in Egypt on vacation, Mum spent the whole time looking for one of these to give to Bill to protect him from the curses around the Egyptian tombs. I thought it might come in handy."

Harry looked at it again and opened the clasp. "Help me put it on, will you? It can't hurt to wear it, and it looks pretty cool."

Ron secured the clasp behind Harry's neck. When he was done, Harry reached around and caught him in a hug.

"Thanks, mate," Harry said. "I love everything you gave me, but this one means the most." He patted the little charm.

Ron had a lump in his throat, and his mouth was dry, but he had so much pent-up emotion that he needed to pour it out over Harry. They kissed with abandon, not caring that all of Harry's new things were rolling off the bed onto the floor. Ron was feeling the familiar pull of excitement in his groin, but he could tell Harry was distracted.

"Don't you want to open your presents now?" asked Harry.

"If I have to choose between presents and you, I choose you," Ron answered breathlessly.

Harry looked at him with mock indignation. "Well even if you don't want to open them, I want to see what you got." He smiled at Ron coyly. "Besides, I'm saving myself. I think we have another lesson later."

Ron smiled appreciatively, and grabbed Harry's wand off the bedside table. "Accio," he said, lazily pointing the wand at a package on the end of his bed. It flew to his hands with a thud. Before long he too had a massive pile of gifts, many identical to Harry's and others, like the dragonhide case from his brother Charlie, were quite unusual.

Ron pointed the wand to retrieve a large, long rectangular box, but Harry said quickly, "No, open that one last."

Ron grinned at him, knowing now that it was from Harry, and opened a self-inking quill from Hermione instead.

Finally the large box was the only gift remaining unopened. Harry looked nervous and excited. Ron couldn't have cared less what was in it - he was sure that anything Harry gave him would be his best Christmas present ever. He unwrapped the paper and carefully opened the box. As the contents came into view, Ron let out an audible gasp. He blinked several times, speechless and paralyzed with shock.

At last he let out a hoarse whisper, "Harry, you can't give me this...it's a Firebolt!"

Harry nodded anxiously, "Yes, it is. And it's for you. Happy Christmas!"

Ron, whose family had been poor his whole life, had never received an expensive gift like this. He was sure Harry hadn't meant to spend this much on him. He should be saving his money, or spending it on himself. He looked at the Firebolt once more and ran his fingers lightly over the dark wood of the handle, lingering on the shining golden serial number near the top. A Firebolt! Ron swallowed hard and stared at Harry. "I can't accept this, Harry. It's too expensive."

Harry had been expecting Ron to be somewhat shocked when he opened the box, but he'd never expected his gift to be refused. Without thinking, words shot out of his mouth in anger. "Ron, I have a whole damn vault at Gringott's filled with galleons and I probably won't live long enough to spend a quarter of them. If I can't go out an buy a Firebolt for the one I love, than what's the point in even having them?"

There was a deafening silence between them. Harry was still angry, looking hurt and breathing heavily. But Ron seemed to have heard only four words in the whole tirade, and was trying desperately to process them.

It came as quite a surprise to Harry when he said, "The one you love? Are you saying you love me?"

There was another brief silence while Harry tried to remember exactly what he'd shouted at Ron. Damn, how did I let that slip? he thought. He was trapped by his own words and unwilling to take them back because they were true.

"Er...yeah," Harry weakly replied, still breathing heavily, though his anger had abated.

A huge wave of relief washed over Ron, however, as suddenly all the pieces clicked into place and he truly understood for the first time how things were between them. Harry wasn't just a mate who leaned queer and was exploring the possibilities with someone he could trust. Harry was with Ron because he was in love with him. And now he felt sure the feeling like hunger that he couldn't identify must also be love. He must be in love with Harry!

"What a relief!" exclaimed Ron cheerfully. "I was thinking it was just me!"

Harry heaved a relaxed sigh as Ron pulled him close and showered his cheek and neck and earlobe with tiny kisses.

"So you're going to keep the Firebolt?" asked Harry tentatively.

"Are you mad? Of course I'm going to keep it! Merlin - a Firebolt! Harry, this is the nicest thing I've ever owned in my whole life. Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!" Ron was gushing over the new broom and it was Harry's turn to watch in amazement as Ron, whose eyes were on the verge of leaking tears of joy, tried to sort out how he had been fortunate enough to be selected to own this broom.

"Let's go have something to eat. I'm starving," said Harry as he glanced at the clock.

"All right," Ron answered. "But after breakfast you have to let me show you proper gratitude for my Firebolt." He leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear rather explicitly what he was planning to do to him to show his appreciation.

Predictably, the fire of Harry's lust burned right through his brilliant green eyes and he growled, "We'll make it quick then."

* * * * *

Ron's expression of gratitude nearly made them late for Christmas Dinner. Harry and Ron burst into the Great Hall just after the faculty had joined the other students. The long house tables were resting against the sides of the hall, and the staff table had been expanded to seat about twenty-five. A great centerpiece made from evergreens and adorned with fairy lights, glittering tinsel and golden ornaments rested in the middle of the table. The enchanted ceiling was a vivid blue with wispy white clouds floating carelessly from corner to corner. Dumbledore motioned Harry and Ron to two empty seats on his right and they mumbled quick apologies for their tardiness as they sat down.

"Isn't it marvelous that we can have such a merry celebration on Christmas Day?" Dumbledore beamed, addressing the company with a spirited, strong voice. "I trust that you all enjoyed a few presents this morning. I, myself, received the thing I've been coveting for years from an anonymous giver - a delightful pair of warm woolen socks." His eyes twinkled at Harry over his half moon glasses, but he said no more about it. "And now, without further ado, let us tuck in."

Enormous platters of turkey, enhanced with the aroma of sausage, onion and sage, magically appeared on the table, with side dishes of potatoes and vegetables and roasted chestnuts. Ron, who had always sported a healthy appetite, became self-conscious as he reached for his third large helping of turkey and saw Professor McGonagall looking down her nose at him. When Harry helped himself to thirds as well, Ron felt better.

As the din around the table got louder, Dumbledore spoke quietly to Harry, "Professor Snape seems to believe that your Occlumency skills are coming along."

Harry turned his face to Dumbledore and shot him a doleful expression. "Did he happen to mention that he terrified his entire NEWT class as he was discovering this? They're all convinced he's going to start breaking into their minds."

Dumbledore chortled. "I suspect that was the only consolation he could find in the whole episode." He took a long draught from his golden goblet. "And the rest of your studies?"

Harry summarized his progress with his various tutors, and added, "I'm feeling comfortable with the theory, sir, but am nervous about my obvious lack of practical experience."

"Perhaps you will have a chance to test your skills against a worthy opponent soon," mused Dumbledore, vaguely.

Harry frowned. "What is that supposed to mean, Professor?"

"It means that should you happen to find yourself in a...situation...where you have an opportunity to hone your new skills, I would expect you to seize upon it. I have no doubt that a small detail such as breaking a school rule would not stand in your way." Dumbledore's blue eyes shimmered with amusement. Harry knew from experience that the meaning of Dumbledore's statement would become obvious at some point, but it would be useless to question him further.

Dumbledore made pleasant conversation with the young Hufflepuff Chaser, and Harry discreetly let his hand drop under the table where it searched frantically for Ron's. Their fingers entwined as they carried on their separate conversations, but each was comforted by the touch of the other. Ron was engaged in a very technical discussion with Professor Flitwick about a charm he was interested in learning. Harry was offering one of the Ravenclaw fifth-years the helpful advice of getting as much sleep as he could during the holidays since he would be doing nothing but revising for his OWLs for the remainder of the school year.

Before the Christmas cake was served, Dumbledore suddenly remembered the Crackers, which were hastily conjured and passed around. Harry turned to Dumbledore and offered him the other end of the one he was holding. Just as they were about to pull it, Dumbledore's eyes caught a glimpse of Harry's necklace, and it startled him. Harry, who was very confused, let go of the Cracker and it dropped to the floor.

"Harry," said Dumbledore slowly, "may I ask where you got this?" He reached out and lightly grasped the small amulet in his fingers.

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry, feeling relieved. "Ron gave this to me as a Christmas present. Cool, isn't it, sir?"

"Would you mind if I examined it for a moment?" asked Dumbledore. Harry reached behind his neck and unfastened the clasp. He placed the necklace into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"It's not dangerous, is it? Ron says it's called a Tyet of Isis - supposed to ward off evil," stammered Harry, nervously.

Dumbledore was inspecting the tiny red charm closely. "No," he said quietly, "it's not dangerous at all. In fact, unless I'm much mistaken, this is a powerful magical object."

Dumbledore handed the necklace back to Harry, and Harry elbowed Ron in the back. Ron turned to look and saw Harry dangling the Tyet of Isis in front of his face, while Dumbledore watched.

"Ron," said Harry, excitedly, "Professor Dumbledore reckons that this is a powerful magical object!"

"I'd be most interested to know where you found it, Ron," said Professor Dumbledore.

Ron leaned forward in his chair and said, "I bought it in that new shop in Hogsmeade, Professor. You know, the one next to Gladrags Wizardwear...Baubles, or something like that. I don't think the witch who runs the place really knew what she had, or she'd have known it was rare. It was mixed in with all the junk jewelry." Ron blushed a little, confessing that he had been browsing in the cheap section of the shop.

"I daresay you're correct," responded Dumbledore. He smiled benevolently at Harry and said, "Now, I do believe we have some unfinished business with a Cracker."

By the time they'd eaten their fill of Christmas dinner, Ron and Harry could barely move. They walked lethargically up to the Gryffindor Tower, but didn't have the energy to climb the stairs to their dormitory, so they sat side by side on the couch in front of the fire. Soon, the two second-year girls joined them. The girls seemed quite anxious to strike up a conversation with Harry, who was either far too polite or far too tired to do anything to discourage this. Ron watched with amusement as the blonde worked especially hard to make a memorable impression on Harry. Ron was sure she imagined herself to be a mature young woman, while everything about her body language screamed, "I'm twelve!" He wondered how Harry managed to be such a good sport about all the unwanted attention, and then remembered that Harry hadn't always been so nice about it. Eventually the blonde gave up and the two girls retired to their dormitory.

"Oh, the hearts that would break if our story ever got out!" Ron teased.

"Shut it," replied Harry, "or you'll get us found out." He stared blankly into the fire for a moment, and then asked, "Ron, what were you and Flitwick on about at dinner? It sounded like he was tutoring you."

"Oh! Thanks for reminding me," Ron said, standing up quickly. He bolted up the stairs, leaving Harry sitting alone and mystified.

A minute later he returned, hauling his book bag in one hand and Standard Book of Spells - Advanced Edition in the other. Ron sat down next to Harry and began flipping through his book. Finally he found the correct page. He handed the book to Harry and emptied the contents of his book bag onto the floor.

Harry perused the page to which Ron had opened his book. It was an enlargement spell to expand the inside of an inanimate object without changing its external properties.

"Is this the spell your dad used on the Ford Anglia?" asked Harry curiously.

"I think so," answered Ron. "Flitwick says it's commonly used, but it almost never comes up in the NEWT exams so he wasn't planning to cover it in class."

Ron took the book back from Harry and began reading. He practiced the wand motion silently and mouthed the incantation several times. At last, he was ready to try it.

Ron pointed his wand at his book bag and as he performed the complicated movement, he said, "Dilato suppellexus." The bag now had twice its previous capacity, but was bulging on one side.

"I don't think it's supposed to bulge like that. I'm going to try it again," he said before making a second attempt. This time he managed to work it properly and seemed quite pleased.

"Harry, d'you see what this means?" he asked excitedly.

Harry looked at him dubiously. "It means you can bring twice as many books back from the library."

Ron sighed, rolling his eyes in a most Hermione-like expression. "No, it means we can enchant our beds to be big enough for two!"

He bent down and jammed his things easily into his now-roomy book bag. When he looked up at Harry's face, Ron was pleased to see him beaming.

* * * * *

Boxing Day brought another pick-up Quidditch game, and all the players were suitably impressed by the addition of the new weapon on Harry and Ron's team - Ron's new Firebolt. Now that there were two Firebolts among the players, they redrew the teams to split them up. As Harry had expected, the Firebolt increased Ron's confidence tremendously, which Harry felt had always been the weakest part of his game. Ron's play was inspired, and he held Harry's team to only ten points until Harry caught the Snitch to end the game.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for Harry as they returned to the castle. "Might I have a word with you, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

When Harry nodded, she led him up the stairs to her office, so Ron made his way to the Gryffindor Tower alone. He sat on his bed, which would now comfortably sleep two, and polished the smudge marks off his Firebolt.

He was brooding again, and he knew it. For one thing, he hated to lose at Quidditch, even though it would not have been possible for him to play any better than he did today. He was also cross because he wished he could have given Harry something as excellent as a Firebolt, but as it was, he'd had to borrow from Ginny just to get the rubbish he'd bought. He knew he'd never be able to compete with Harry's vault full of gold at Gringott's, but next to a Firebolt, Ron's little amulet seemed so lame! At least Dumbledore thought it was authentic and not some worthless trinket, but that was little consolation. What did Harry possibly see in him, anyway?

Ron didn't notice Harry enter the room until he heard him say, "Oh no. Is it safe to be in here with you?" Ron just glared at him, so Harry continued, "You've got that cross look on your face, and I'm not sure that I want to be on the receiving end of your temper right now."

"No, I'm all right. It's not fair to take it out on you anyway. So...what did McGonagall want?"

Harry sat down on the bed facing Ron. "She told me Dumbledore is making arrangements for me to take my Apparation Test next week. I've got less than a week to prepare for it. Oh, and in my free time, I have four extra lessons lined up for next week as well. Some holiday this is going to be."

"I'll help you train for the test. I've only had a chance to Apparate a few times since I got my license last August, but it's pretty easy once you know the basics. Where are you supposed to practice, though?" Ron looked up, grinning, "Apparently it says in Hogwarts, A History that you can't Apparate and Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds."

"Yes, I think I've heard that once or twice. I suppose McGonagall will have to give us permission to leave the school grounds, won't she?" said Harry, thoughtfully.

Ron's eyes were gleaming as he said, "I'm thinking that we might have to practice Apparating from the main gate to The Three Broomsticks. And we might just have to warm up with a hot butterbeer while we're in the neighborhood...."

The thought seemed to cheer him up quite a bit. Actually, just being with Harry had the effect of cheering him up, and he was nearly out of his bad mood.