Dream Chasing

Dream Chasing

Chapter Five. Wishes and Lasagna

Ron Weasley threw his bag on the floor in front of the fireplace and flung himself into the large comfortable armchair in front of it, proceeded to plant his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands, and fixed his eyes on the blazing, comforting, dancing flames of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room.

He was obviously in a funk - and everyone knew enough to give a wide berth.

The Weasley Twins came into the room and saw him; as one, they looked at each other and shrugged. Nothing they could do about it, they thought, not after what they'd seen when they brought Harry and Hermione to the hospital wing yesterday. Ron still harbored those feelings for Hermione - but after yesterday, they knew that he was totally out of the running as far as Hermione was concerned.

With that thought, the two turned and walked to their own private corner. There was still the matter of the Ravenclaw Beater to deal with; no matter that they knew it was an accident, that it was unintentional and done without any thought or thinking involved (if one can say that about a Ravenclaw!), there was principle involved here!

Ginny had also walked into the Common Room by then with her year-mates, and saw her brother sitting alone in what had become known as Hermione's chair. She shook her head and sighed; she'd gotten over her crush for Harry some time ago by spending time with other people - not just her house-mates but also those of other houses.

She didn't spend the time moping over Harry -- Ron, however, spent almost all his time with those two and didn't circulate as much. She sighed to herself ... he'd never get over his crush for Hermione the way he was acting. With that thought in mind, she proceeded to her dorm to change.

Close but no cigar, guys.

That would have been the first thought Ron would tell them if he knew what they were thinking about. Ginny would have been the closest to hit the mark about his dark mood - but she had just missed the key point and, in this case, missing by an inch was the same as missing by a mile.

It wasn't about Hermione.

Nor was it about Harry.

It was about the Trio - that indefinable, hard to explain and, to some people, totally senseless friendship forged between three of the most unlikely people in the wizarding world: the poor boy with a future who had lived in this world his whole life but still felt inadequate and insecure when moving through it; the often clueless orphan who should have been a well-known and loved part of this world had it not been for the circumstances of fate; and their brainy, bossy, clued-in companion who was, at times, just as clueless as Harry.

There had never been any doubt that his two friends had feelings for each other; hell, he had feelings for both also, but not in that way. Four years of friendship, companionship and shared adventures - from the night they'd saved Hermione from a mountain troll - would do that to a person.

And that "saving each other" thing had gone round and round throughout the past four years. Maybe they weren't all together at some points - Harry's destiny always seemed to call for him to face the final task alone -- but they had always been with each other until the point when Harry had to walk forward alone.

And that made all the difference.

Ron had never felt this lonely before - his friends had always been there with him. Their major arguments in third year over Scabbers and in fourth year when he was playing the role of The Biggest Prat on the Face of the Earth didn't compare to this. In third year, he'd had Harry with him; last year, he'd still maintained his friendship with Hermione even though she spent most of her time with Harry (he'd sensed that Harry was there with Hermione under his invisibility cloak during the Hogsmeade weekend before the First Task which was why he didn't approach her table ...).

This was the first time when both his friends were out of his orbit - and he could feel the loss as if a huge, gaping hole had been dug out of his chest. It felt strange to be rushing to classes without one or both beside him; weird to sit in the classroom with vacant seats on either side; peculiar to be sitting at the Gryffindor table with everyone automatically taking seats away from him as if he had a major case of body odor (he stopped himself from smelling his armpits at the thought) ...

"Meowrrhgh."

He blinked and saw Crookshanks sitting in front of the fire, staring at him in a demanding manner.

"Hey, Crookshanks. Missing your mum? C'mere, you."

The cat - who by now was more of a small tiger than a large cat - simply stared and, he would later swear to Hermione, actually raised an eyebrow at him.

"He's been acting that way the whole day, Ron." He turned to look inquiringly at Carolyn, who had walked up quietly with Cindy in tow. "He keeps walking round and round ... as if he were waiting for someone."

"He misses his mummy, of course," Ron replied with a smile. He glanced at Crookshanks, and he could swear that the eyebrow had gone a bit higher, and the cat was staring at him as if he were the biggest, most clueless git in the entire galaxy.

"I don't think so," Cindy said. "We've been trying to get him to go with us to the Hospital Wing to see Miss Hermione, but he refuses to budge."

He looked back at the cat on the floor, an inquiring eyebrow of his own directed at Crookshanks. And this time, it seemed to him that Crookshanks was actually looking at him and saying, "Well? You gonna sit there moping like a big lunk, or are you joining me?"

He sighed and stood up, not surprised that the cat also stood up and started brushing against his legs. "Oh, no," he said to Crookshanks. "I'm not going to break my back carrying you around! You've got four legs to my two, you better use them."

"Mhrow." Was that a note of disdain he heard in the cat's tone? He shook his head, mentally bapping himself on the head for acting as if Crookshanks could understand him, and turned to the Terrible Two. "Join me, girls?"

Before either could respond, they heard the Twins calling out, "Oi, you two! Come here, we need to discuss something with you."

He sent his older brothers a glare to which they responded with innocent faces. He turned to Cindy and Ca with a raised eyebrow, noted the smiles that had broken out on their faces and shuddered. The greatest pranksters since the days of the legendary Marauders joining up with two people with the brains of Hermione Granger and the hearts of Gred and Forge was a frightening prospect ...

"Just take care, you two. Don't go blowing up a toilet or something ..." he said, going into his big brother act, but smiling at the same time.

"Yes, Mummy," Cindy said with a cheeky smile.

"We promise to be good while you go see Aunt Hermione," Ca replied with the same impish tone as her best friend.

"Aunt Hermione?" Ron's laughter brayed out, shocking the people who had avoided him, as he felt his foul mood dissipate. "She'll kill you when she hears that ..."

"She won't," Ca said, the mischievous smile still in place.

"Kill us, I mean," Cindy seconded her friend. "She knows we love her ..."

"And respect her ..."

"Adore her ..."

"Worship her ..."

"Revere her ..."

"Enough, you two," Ron said, chuckling. He'd been witness to that sort of exchange from his older twin brothers all his life; seeing another pair doing the same routine brought a wave of nostalgia for the good old days ... and made him appreciate his brothers and their quirky sense of humor more.

He turned back to the waiting Crookshanks. "Come on, you," he said. "Let's go see mummy."

* * *

It was a spectacular sunset -- one that would normally have unleashed the Muses into an extravagant panoply of song, dance, music, poetry ... a sight that would have set hearts to beating rapidly, to draw breath and smile ... to allow the reddish glow of the descending sun to paint pastel shades around a lover's face ...

But they ignored it, wrapped as they were in each other's arms, slowly swaying to the music and sultry voice coming from the CD player inside the house:

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I'll give you my heart

Hermione sighed deeply as she rested her bushy head of hair on Harry's chest, utterly contented with the feel of Harry's arms around her, his warm hands lightly tracing lines up and down her back, felt his heart beating strongly against her head - and she continued to sway in his arms.

She felt him taking in a deep breath and she moved her head slightly to plant a small kiss on his jaw - and was startled to see tears welling up in his eyes.

Before she could ask what was wrong, she heard him whisper, "I wish Mum and Dad were here."

I love you

And you alone were meant for me

Please give your loving heart to me

And say we'll never part

She didn't respond, merely embraced him as tightly as she could as she felt him heave - felt him taking in huge gulps of air as he fought the emotions let loose by the song, feeling his arms flex convulsively around her -- unable to do anything but hold him, and try to let her warmth flow into the coldness that she knew was gripping his chest.

I think of you every morning

Dream of you every night

Darling I'm never lonely

Whenever you're in sight

It was inevitable, she realized.

They'd spent the day quietly: swimming (with Hermione laughing at Harry's comic attempts to dog-paddle) ... walking on the beach, while she darted here and there to look at a tiny crab, grab a sea shell, tossing pebbles on the water ... sitting in the shade of palm trees or the veranda, holding hands or hugging each other as the mood struck them ...

And talking.

Or rather, she talked while he listened.

She never realized that every memory she shared - from the first day her parents brought her to the beach, to the sandwiches her mum prepared for her in the morning, to that night when they were watching Star Wars and she made the popcorn bowl levitate to her parents' shock, to their summer trips to France and where ever - would be red-hot needles lancing into her best friend's soul.

He had nothing like that to share with her.

He'd kept his silence as she prattled on and on about her home ... her mum and dad ... the fun times she had when growing up ... her room with its stuffed toys and Star Wars action figures ... the sights she had seen in France and Europe with her parents ...

What would Harry have shared with her?

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I've given you my heart

As the instrumental component of the song floated in the air, the dribs and drabs of the lonely and painful childhood that he'd let slip over the years came back to her, and she convulsively hugged him tighter ... and again, allowed her mouth to run off: "I wish Ron were here."

She felt her friend stiffen in her arms and she was again cursing herself eloquently - or as eloquently as a prim and proper English child could be. She braced herself, fully expecting that Harry would push her away for her truly tactless remark - and was surprised as she felt him hugging her even closer, saying, "Bored with me already, Hermione?"

The amusement in his voice made her peek up at him from behind the curtain of her hair, and she nearly fainted as she saw his affectionate Harry grin (the same one he gave her when he joined them at Honeydukes in their third year) glowing down at her.

I think of you every morning

Dream of you every night

Darling I'm never lonely

Whenever you're in sight

Before she could react, he gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I miss him too, Hermione. He'd have the perfect response to what I just said ..."

She moved away from him and held him at arm's length, an eyebrow cocked in surprise - and she met his grin head-on, before turning away to look out over the now-darkening sea. "I wonder what he would have said, if he were here."

"What's for dinner?"

She blinked at him - and snickered. Oh yes, she thought - that would be Ron all right. He'd never forget the important things and, she thought as she shook her head, he would be quite right, too. There were other, more important things to life ...

"Well then, Miss Books and Cleverness, what will we have for dinner?"

"You," she replied absently. She frowned as she felt him stiffen ... and his question - and her response - slammed into her. She felt a grin breaking out on her face, fighting for dominance with the blush that was creeping up from her toes.

"I meant that you get to choose what we'll have for dinner, you dumb prat!" she said as she playfully swatted at him. "Honestly! Can't you get your mind out of the gutter for even a moment, Potter?"

"Me?" he replied in an injured tone. "You're the one who keeps spouting all those weird questions, Miss Granger! You better get your mind out of the gutter!"

"What?" she sputtered. Without so much as another word, she suddenly jumped on him and started tickling him; caught off-balance, he nearly fell back ... and a friendly wrestling match was about to take place when Harry suddenly stopped, green eyes blazing into her amber-flecked eyes, and she caught her breath at the intensity of that look, her ears registering the lyrics:

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I've given you my heart

She felt herself lick her lips in anticipation as a quiver ran down her spine, felt her palms heating up as she rested them on Harry's warm back, closed her eyes as she felt Harry's warm breath on her lips as he leaned into her ...

And jumped back in sheer terror as they heard a high pitched scream, followed by a loud crash as if someone had fallen into the bushes surrounding their bungalow. She felt Harry's arm as he shoved her behind him, felt his body tense as he took a defensive stance in front of her, and she opened her mouth to scream ...

"Crookshanks!"

* * *

"What, in Merlin's name, is this place?"

"Mhrow." Ron glanced down at the cat beside him and would have sworn that Crookshanks had given him a shrug.

"You're a great help," he said - and this time, knew that Crookshanks had stuck out his tongue out at him. For a second, he was tempted to stick out his tongue at the cat but decided against it - he didn't think he could stand another one of Crookshank's sardonic, sarcastic looks.

He sighed to himself. After four and a half years at Hogwarts, as well as nearly sixteen years living in the Wizarding World, he thought that nothing would surprise him - but this place certainly did. All he could remember was sitting beside Harry's bed in the Hospital Wing (wondering at the same time what a comfortably squashy armchair was doing there), watching Crookshanks leap up on the bed and make himself comfortable beside the unconscious Hermione, felt his eyes grow heavy as he sat in that comfortable armchair with his friends near at hand ... woke up to find himself on this deserted beach ...

"So where do we go from here?"

Crookshanks gave him a raised eyebrow and he couldn't help himself: he stuck out his tongue - and started walking away, but the first step he took made him freeze, blink - and look down at himself. He would swear that he could feel his lower jaw around the vicinity of his knees when he realized that, instead of the shirt and jeans that he'd been wearing under his school robes, he was wearing a large, loose Hawaiian shirt with brilliant splotches of color all over that made him feel like a walking garden.

As he gaped at his shirt, he realized that he was wearing an oversized pair of shorts that hung down to his knees - and felt something that instantly reminded him of Archie, the elderly wizard wearing a long flowery nightgown at the World Cup campsite: "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

"Mhhrrrawhhh."

"Stop laughing at me, you! If you weren't Mione's pet -" He tried to glare at Crookshanks as he instinctively ducked, almost expecting the swish of her hand as she swatted at him for using that hated nickname ...

And nearly stumbled as a warm, accented voice rang out, "Ah, Mr. Weasley - just in time for dinner. Welcome!"

He gaped at the sight of the tall, well-built man in impeccable whites approaching him, hand stretched out in greeting. Gaping, he shook hands with the stranger, who proceeded to remove that label from himself: "I am Mr. Roarke - welcome to Fantasy Island."

Ron continued to gape, but the good manners that Molly Weasley had so industriously trained her children in quickly reasserted itself: "I'm Ron ... Ron Weasley."

A low growl from beside him made him look down and glance quickly at Mr. Roarke, "And this is Crookshanks."

The man in white went down on one knee and extended a hand to the cat, who silently held out a paw to be shaken, as he remarked, "Of course, Miss Hermione's cat! She's missed you ..."

As he stood up, brushing himself off, he continued, "Both of you, of course. As does Mr. Potter."

He glanced at his watch and, grasping Ron by an elbow, started walking towards a well-lighted bungalow that Ron hadn't noticed when he first walked onto the sands of this strange beach. "I believe Mr. Potter would have dinner ready in a few minutes ..."

"Dinner?" A low growl made him look down at Crookshanks, who was staring back at him with a sardonic look. Before he could say anything, another growl was heard - and Ron realized that it was coming from the vicinity of his stomach. He contented himself with giving the cat another glare, to which Crookshanks gave a shrug. With an exasperated sigh, he started walking while silently cursing bossy, know-it-all masters and their smart-alecky pets - and froze as he heard a lovely, melodious voice singing an unfamiliar song, backed by a full orchestral arrangement, and felt a wave of intense emotions flow through his body and seemingly blow away his brain:

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I'll give you my heart

Unthinking, he quickened his pace ... started to run towards the bungalow to burst in on the unsuspecting inhabitants that he knew were his best friends in the world ... suddenly skidded to a halt behind some bushes ...

I love you

And you alone were meant for me

Please give your loving heart to me

And say we'll never part

And watched, mouth agape at the sight before him: his best friends on the veranda, arms around each other, swaying to the sweet, sentimental song -- Harry's lips moving to the words of the song, his mouth close to her ear; Hermione leaning into his chest, her arms also around him in a tight grip ... both of them in a world all their own, defined only by the circle of their arms around each other, and the lyrics of the song that continued to flow through his ears:

I think of you every morning

Dream of you every night

Darling I'm never lonely

Whenever you're in sight

He turned away from the sight, tears forming, the image of his friends dancing searing into his brain, the lyrics of the song slashing their way into his memory:

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I've given you my heart

He wanted to run away ... leave this bloody place as he felt the earlier wave of loneliness sweep through his body again - this time, not because of the absence of his friends, but because of the realization that, even with his friends around, he was truly alone.

Because he had no one with whom to share the emotions that his two friends were so openly showing to each other.

They didn't need him, he realized. They hadn't needed him since late in their third year, when they had used Hermione's Time-Turner to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak while he was out cold in the Hospital Wing ... they hadn't needed him when they'd practiced the Summoning Charm until 1:00 in the morning before the first task ... and they were so happy now, dancing to that sentimental song ...

He should just get up and leave, he thought ... leave them and try to get on with his life.

But what life, he thought? He'd never had a real life until he met Harry and Hermione - he was simply "just another Weasley," until the moment when they'd rescued Hermione from the troll in first year, and the Trio was formed.

His friends had formed an intrinsic part of his life - from the summers spent at The Burrow or in Diagon Alley, the meals they ate together, the hours they studied together - the walks and talks they'd had in the Common Room, under the trees, in classes, his best friends in the world ... but at this moment, they didn't need him.

He felt tears forming in his eyes and turned away, brushing them away at the same time. He wanted to go back to the castle and look for the statue of the humpbacked witch, sneak out to Hogsmeade and drown himself in a barrel of butterbeer, leave his friends to their private moment of togetherness ...

And stepped right on the tail of a waiting Crookshanks.

What followed would later come to him as a series of unmoving Muggle pictures - Crookshanks' yowl of surprise; the cat rising on his hind legs, sharp front claws extended; his own yell of surprise and pain as Crookshanks raked his claws at him, just barely missing the only jewels he had ever owned; leaping backwards to avoid the enraged cat, and tripping over his own big feet - and falling into the bushes with a resounding crash ...

He quickly stood up, brushing himself off, just as he heard Hermione's happy cry. "Crookshanks!"

Ron had only a moment to register the beginnings of a smile on Mr. Roarke's face before he felt himself slammed backwards, nearly toppling again as he felt strong arms wrapping around his neck in a stranglehold - feeling himself step backwards, barely keeping his balance as a slim figure crashed into them, found himself in the middle of a four-armed hug, struggling to breathe through the tight embrace of his best friends and wondering vaguely why he had ever doubted being welcomed in the House of Potter ...

* * *

"I need your love so badly,

I love you, oh, so madly,

But I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you!"

Was there no other music in this place, Ron wondered? He was standing alone in the veranda, feeling the warm but fresh breeze blowing on his face from the darkened beach - Harry was puttering around in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Mr. Roarke had left, claiming some important business needing his attention but promising to be back later in time for dinner.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen - probably still taking a shower, or primping herself in that indefinable way that women all seemed to have, taking far too much time with their appearance - and all too often, blowing them all away when they made their dramatic entrances.

His mind suddenly flashed back to their fourth year, and the look on Harry's face when he realized that the pretty girl that Krum was escorting was their best friend - and his face suddenly flushed at the memory of his totally boorish and uncouth attitude towards Hermione.

"I thought at last I'd found you,

But other loves surround you,

And I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you."

He shook his head as the haunting voice of the Muggle singer washed over him. He could understand the sentiments behind the song, but it didn't really affect him ... since he had never really thought of Hermione in that way.

And he sighed to himself, his earlier thoughts and emotions washing over him in waves.

He wondered if there was a character flaw hidden deep within him, remembering the looks on Harry and Hermione's faces as they danced - a flaw that made him unable to find someone who would feel that way about him - and, in the same instant, wondering why he hadn't found someone for whom he felt that way ...

He felt two slim arms wrapping around him, and smiled.

He turned around and embraced her quickly, giving her a brief squeeze - but again, wondering why he didn't feel anywhere like the hormonally-addled teen that he thought he should feel when wrapping his arms around a girl. This, he thought to himself, was just like hugging a grown-up little Ginny - and he knew that Hermione was feeling the same way towards him.

He gently pushed her away from him, and smiled down at her. "Been behaving yourself, I hope?"

His smile widened as he saw her blush and he couldn't resist: "Been snogging Harry senseless, I assume?"

He easily ducked her hand as she lunged at him; laughing, he retreated behind a chair where Crookshanks was lying down in, licking his fur and watching the proceedings with a raised eyebrow. Hermione stood there in her caftan-like shirt, glaring at him - and then, suddenly sticking her tongue out at him.

"Feeling envious are we, ickle Ronnie-kins?"

Something must have shown on his face at her words; the next thing he knew, Hermione was beside him, a contrite and shamed look on her face and he could hear her soft voice apologizing for her utterly tactless remark.

He knew where this was going, and quickly placed a finger on her lips to silence her. She looked up at him, her eyes still remorseful and he tried a smile, painful though it was at this moment.

If you'd surrender,

Just for a tender kiss or two,

You might discover,

that I'm the lover, meant for you,

And I'd be true,

But what's the good of scheming,

I Know I must be dreaming,

For I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you!

"It's all right, Hermione ... I guess you're right, in a way."

The expression in her eyes changed from one of chagrin to one of concern, remorse and -- wariness, and he quickly tried to ease her sudden fear. "Not that way, Hermione ... not that way. I've always known, somehow, that it would always be Harry and you."

She quickly glanced towards the inside of the house, where they could hear Harry pottering around in the kitchen. She turned back to him, and he was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes, and he quickly walked over to give her a firm hug.

"Hey, come on ... did you think I was blind or something?" he said to the hair that was leaning against his chest. "I've known there was something between you since last year."

She stepped away from him in surprise, and he could feel his face splitting open in a wide grin, amused at her efforts to look like the proverbial beached salmon. "Remember when Harry and I got out of the lake with Fleur's sister, Gabrielle? I was looking right at you then - you didn't even notice me, didn't even give me the time of day ... Are you all right?"

Hermione felt as if she had swallowed down a goblet of Pepper-Up potion from the way she felt her face redden - and wondered whether steam was actually pouring out of her ears. She quickly sat down in the chair with Crookshanks; the cat, after making way for her, settled in her lap quietly, and she began stroking him as her memories gripped her ...

Her growing anxiety as the minutes ticked past the deadline without a sign of either Harry or Ron, the apprehension on Dumbledore and Percy's faces as they watched the surface of the lake, Madam Maxime struggling with a near-hysterical Fleur Delacour, the weight of Madam Pomfrey's hand on her shoulder, and Viktor's on her elbow as both tried to keep her calm and stop her from throwing off her blanket and running back to the lake, ignoring Viktor's prattle as he tried to tell her something ... the sudden explosion of held-in air when the surface of the lake broke - and Harry and Ron came up with Gabrielle Delacour between them, and ... and ...

"Harry, well done!" she'd cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

She'd been grinning like an idiot at him, feeling her heart beating in double or triple quick-time at her relief that he was safe, that he was alive and beside her - brushing Viktor's hand and the water beetle away impatiently as she continued, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry ... Did it take you ages to find us?"

And belatedly realizing that Ron was right - she hadn't even thought about Ron the whole time: all that was on her mind was Harry, that Harry was beside her and safe, and she wouldn't have traded that moment for anything else in the world at the time - Bulgaria, jewelry, books, grades ...

"Why'd you think I was so eager to get noticed by Fleur? Put yourself in my place, Hermione - I walk out of the lake, fresh from an ordeal that I knew nothing about ... and the first thing I see is Percy, of all people, nearly wetting himself all over me!"

She couldn't help herself, and giggled - and looked up in time to see Ron snickering along with her. She wanted to stand up and hug him, but the weight of the cat on her lap stopped her - and she contented herself with listening to Ron:

"So when Fleur steps up, gushing all over Harry and kissing him ..."

She tuned herself out as she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She'd been simply furious at the French girl's antics, even though she knew that cheek kisses were de rigueur among that nationality and its people and didn't mean a hell of a lot ... but simply angry at her sudden change of heart for her Harry, after all the snide remarks about Hogwarts and Harry ...

And again realized that her anger was towards the French girl's actions towards Harry, not Ron ...

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered.

He wagged a finger at her, smiling. "Come off it, Hermione ... at least it made a lot of things clear for me. I realized that it was you and Harry ... nothing and no one would ever come between the two of you."

"And now?"

The grin faded from Ron's face and he quickly turned away, saying in a soft, pained voice, "I guess I'm envious ... because I haven't found anyone who would look at me in the same way that you look at Harry."

She hung her head, ignoring Crookshanks playfully batting at her loose hair and whispered, "I'm sorry, Ron."

They both fell silent at that, and quietly listened to the song that was coming out of the sound system:

I've got a crush on you, sweetie-pie

All the day and nighttime, hear me sigh

I never had the least notion

That I could fall with so much emotion

Could you coo

Could you care

For a cunning cottage

We could share

The world will pardon my mush

Cuz I've got a crush, my baby on you

Their eyes met, and both quickly shook their heads and smiled at each other, a brief moment of regret for what could have been passing over them.

The moment was broken, however, as they heard a clatter of dishes - and turned to see Harry Potter walk out on the veranda, pushing a small, wheeled cart on which were piled dishes, utensils and glasses and - on top - a long, wide Pyrex dish from which wafted a most appetizing and spicy aroma. Harry, wearing a chef's toque and an apron with the words, "Kiss the Chef" on it, announced himself with a flourish: "Get ready for the treat of a lifetime - Potter's Extra-Special Microwaved Las--"

Whatever the dish was supposed to be was lost by the sudden cry of pain from Hermione, as she felt Crookshanks' claws dig into her bare thighs as the cat launched itself from her lap ... at Harry's yelp of surprise as the large cat - or small tiger - landed on the cart and, with its momentum, slid off the top along with the Pyrex dish ... the crash as cat and dish landed on the floor, followed by the cart tipping over ...

The three teens gaped at the spectacle before them: Crookshanks on the floor, rapidly gobbling down lasagna, face covered in cheese and cream, contented murmurs coming from his squashed face ...

"I didn't know he liked lasagna, Mione," Harry said, a shocked tone apparent in his voice.

"Neither did I, Harry ... well, Mum never made any lasagna before, felt it was too much work ..." Hermione replied, blankly.

And both turned to Ron as his plaintive voice rang out, "That's our dinner!"

Hermione and Harry caught each other's eyes and quickly suppressed grins and giggles - Ron did have his priorities, and they were often the right ones. Before either one could say anything, they heard footsteps on the veranda and Mr. Roarke's cheerful voice: "Are we all set for ... Oh, dear."

The three turned to look at their host, who was now contemplating the tuned-out cat on the floor, still busy with the lasagna that Harry had cooked. He cocked at eyebrow at Hermione and asked, in a voice tinged with deep amusement, "He wouldn't be related to Garfield, by any chance?"

Hermione's blank look apparently amused him further, and he shook his head, "Never mind. I guess our problem now is what to do for dinner? And I brought some excellent wine ..."

He pursed his lips in thought, quietly setting down the bottles of wine on the railing of the veranda - and suddenly snapped his fingers. "I have an idea ... why don't I treat the three of you to dinner? There's a new place in town, although I hope you won't mind ... it is karaoke night tonight."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and shrugged ... and smiled simultaneously as a sudden thought gripped them: the night they went up the Astronomy Tower to deliver Norbert the Dragon in their first year ... Hermione dancing a sort of jig as she proclaimed, "Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

They quickly turned to Ron, who was asking Mr. Roarke, "Is karaoke something good to eat? Because I'm starving!"

They couldn't help themselves - they suddenly broke out in laughter, which they quickly suppressed when they saw the look of puzzlement and worry on Ron's face. Hermione was about to tell Ron what karaoke was when Harry interrupted her - "Don't spoil the surprise, Hermione ... this is something that I would love to see."

"What?" Ron asked in a puzzled voice. "Watching me sing for my supper?"

The wide smiles on the three faces made him frown ... before he could say anything, Hermione interrupted him and turned to Mr. Roarke, "Ummm ... what should we wear? As you can see, we don't have much of a wardrobe ..."

Their host waved the concern away. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. The girls are quite nice and casual ... you'll find that the Red Queen is quite informal about dress codes and such."

"The Red Queen?"

Mr. Roarke turned to Ron, "The restaurant-bar that I will be taking you to."

"There's a bar in this place?" He peered owlishly at his best friends. "How come you guys didn't tell me about this?"

Mr. Roarke's amused voice quickly cut in: "I would guess it's because they were ... shall we say, 'wrapped up' in other things?"

A wicked gleam broke out in Ron's eyes as he watched the blush break out over his friends' faces. Before he could say anything, Mr. Roarke broke in again, "I would guess you'd need a few minutes to freshen up? I think we can safely leave the cleaning-up to Crookshanks for the moment."

The three teens glanced at Crookshanks, who continued to ignore them. Looking at each other, they quickly nodded - Hermione going to her room, and the boys to Harry's room to change and freshen up.

Mr. Roarke continued to stare at Crookshanks, a contemplative look on his face. "I wonder ..." he said aloud.

Crookshanks looked up at him from the lasagna ... and he could have sworn that the cat gave him a wink before turning back to the dish that he was so industriously devouring.