Dream Chasing

Dream Chasing

Chapter 15. "I Can Dream, Can't I?"

The ocean breeze caught her hair, tossing it lazily across her face. She raised her hand to brush it from her eyes as she beamed at Harry, who took her hand in his; without saying a word, they began to meander with no apparent destination in mind. They were walking along the sun-drenched beach. The waves lapped happily at the white glistening sand. She was carrying a pair of sandals in her hand and wore a gauzy white sundress that she knew would leave little to Harry's imagination. They stopped. She looked into his emerald green eyes and raised her face to meet his. Before he had the chance to kiss her, they were bowled over by another force; a smaller one. Hermione looked up from where she'd fallen on the beach.

A little boy, no more than five or six years old, with brown hair and striking green eyes was calling their attention to a seagull chasing after his bologna sandwich. Hermione could feel Harry's chest hitching as he laughed at the boy's indignation. The child stormed off, shouting at the circling menace, and Harry returned his attention to her.

She tried to pull herself up but Harry playfully held her down with his left hand; the same hand that sparkled with the golden flicker of an irrefutable wedding band. She saw his eyes drawn to it: shimmering with gold and platinum and inscribed with runes Harry couldn't read - and she grasped his hand in her similarly adorned hand. Her wide smile turned to surprised shock as an unusually large wave, hailing the return of the tide, rolled into them. Again, she tried to leap off the beach, but was firmly held in place by Harry.

He surveyed his wife, now soaked from the unrelenting surf, and took in the sight of her. The white sundress had been thrown up above her knees. While it still covered all the essential areas, it was now a translucent sheath, clinging to her every curve. The sunlight seemed to bore directly through the drenched fabric. He could make out every inch of the lacy bra covering her breasts. He could see the intricate detail of her knickers. When he returned his stare to her face, she had stopped smiling; and so had he.

Left hands still clasped together, he lowered his head to hers, while letting his right hand move under the sodden fabric covering her thighs. No longer able to stop the force driving him, he crushed his lips to hers as her right hand grasped the back of his neck. Unaware of anything else, they opened their mouths and feasted on the taste of each other. The quiet moan that escaped her throat warmed them like a phoenix song and their wave of passion was matched only by the rhythmic crashing of the ocean's waves -

"Dammit!"

Hermione jumped at the softly spoken curse laden with undertones of pain and frustration, and she glanced around the Common Room guiltily, wondering if anyone had seen her drooling. She shook herself as she remembered that almost everyone had gone up to bed: the younger ones (with two notable exceptions) had all retired after dinner, shell-shocked from a grueling Potions exam given by a vindictive Snape; the upper years all excited but wanting to sleep early in preparation for Hogsmeade tomorrow - she glanced at her watch - actually, in a few hours.

The sound of tearing parchment disrupted her thoughts; peering over the back of her chair, she saw a red-headed teen sitting in a corner of the Common Room, staring blankly into space, pieces of parchment scattered around him.

She sighed, recognizing the sound for what it was and the sight for what it meant.

Another failed effort by Ron Weasley, frustrated artist.

If there was one thing that Hermione would never have expected, the idea of Ron sketching would have rated as 'You must be mental' on her list. Helping knit clothes for house-elves would rate high, of course; going on a diet would rate even higher; asking Pansy or Millicent to be his date for the Easter Ball would rate very, very high ... but sketching?

That was outside the atmosphere.

But there it was.

It was a shock to learn that Ron had approached Dean Thomas with a request to tutor him in drawing and sketching. Dean had been so relieved that Ron wasn't going to beat him up for daring to date Ginny that he'd quickly agreed - and the lessons had started even while they were still unconscious in the Hospital Wing.

The problem was that, while everyone conceded that Ron had the heart to become a good - even a great - artist, "he just doesn't have the 'art' for it," as Dean so delicately put it. This candid assessment, however, did not stop Ron from trying, as the parchments around him proved.

"I can't do it." Ron's soft voice, burdened with disappointment and anger, made Hermione look up from her own distracted thoughts.

"Ron?" He jumped, surprised; he'd forgotten that he was not alone in the Common Room. For a brief moment, he stared blankly at Hermione - but his eyes quickly focused as she asked, "Are you all right?"

He shook his head to clear it and tried a smile: "I'm all right, Hermione, just (a shrug and a sigh) -- I don't think I'm any good at this."

"Ron--" She stopped when he glared at her, and he quickly changed the subject: "So. All ready for the ball, Hermione?"

She blinked, and smiled. "Of course! It's going to be so exciting ... meeting our counterparts from the United States! I hope they won't be as snooty as Fleur Delacour and that Beauxbatons group; well, at least we won't have a language barrier like what happened during the Tri-Wizard Tournament ... they'll probably be spread among the different houses...."

"No one asking for a dance from Herm-own-ninny?"

Ron barely ducked the cushion thrown by a red-faced Hermione, and he held up his hands in surrender before she could throw the book in her hands - Hogwarts: A History - at him. "Can't take a joke, Hermione?"

She glared at his smirking face, and shot back, "And who, may I ask, is ickle Ronnie-kins taking to the ball?"

She felt her jaw drop as Ron's face turned deathly white and then burning red, pain masking his eyes and, suddenly fearful that she had misspoken, said in a shaking voice, "Ron?"

He blinked and blurted out, "I'm not taking anyone, Hermione."

"Why not, Ron?" she asked him gently, wondering again why he'd seemed so oblivious to the hints and batted eyelashes that Lavender and Parvati had been throwing his way ever since Dumbledore announced the Easter Ball to welcome a delegation of students from various American wizarding schools. In fact, he'd seemed so ... uninterested in the ball that--

"There's someone," Ron said, eyes looking at her blankly, his mind trying to capture the face of the person who haunted his dreams, "but I can't ask her to the ball."

Hermione gaped as she felt her chest constricting; harsh and painful words said in the heat of anger over a year before roaring through her mind: "Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

'Does he - is he - could he - still have a crush on me?' The thought blasted through her and it was only by sheer willpower that she kept herself still. Her mind was dancing and whirling at the thought and she wondered whether this was the reason he seemed distant when she and Harry came back from the Hospital Wing; why he'd suddenly taken up an interest in sketching ... why he didn't seem to be spending as much time with them as he did ....

But it couldn't be, she thought blankly. Ron accepted it - he accepted Harry and herself for what they were and would be. He'd told her so but then a small voice spoke up in her mind: 'Did he really? Or is it just a dream?'

She could hear him saying something through the roaring in her ears and she snapped her head up, eyes narrowing as she asked, "What was that you said?"

A broad smile had broken out on Ron's face as he repeated his words: "I said that I'm going alone ... the better to keep an eye on The Spawn."

It was only by falling out of his chair that he avoided getting Hogwarts: A History planted on his forehead; taking advantage of an off-balanced Hermione, he bolted for his dormitory, laughing at the name that Snape bestowed on the Terrible Two during a memorable Potions class, when the two were trying to outdo each other (and their Slytherin classmates) in trying to get his attention: "Stop waving your hands in my face! I am not blind -- I will not have any Potter-Granger spawn disrupting my classroom!"

Within minutes of the closing bell, the name had made its way around the castle. As usual, Draco Malfoy grabbed the opportunity to establish himself as the role model for the younger Slytherins: the moment he saw Cindy and Carolyn in the corridor with the other Gryffindors, he asked in a loud voice to no one in particular and everyone in general: "I wonder from what sewer Galloway and Wright came from? But then, what can you expect from the spawn of a half-blood and a Mudblood?"

It had taken Cindy, Carolyn, Hermione, Ginny, their Gryffindor year mates plus Fred and George, to stop Harry and Ron from going after the blond ferret as he sneered at them--

He paused at the top of the stairs to his dormitory, still laughing at Hermione's outraged expression as he called out, "G'night, Hermione," ducking out of sight as she hurled a pillow at him ...

***

Hermione glared at the stairs and stomped off to the chair he'd vacated, fully intending to vent her rage on it - and suddenly caught herself.

Why should she be so mad about the nickname bestowed on Cindy and Carolyn when the two didn't mind at all - and even flaunted the name to all and sundry in the castle? Laughter suddenly erupted in the room as she remembered the way the two had gotten back at Draco Malfoy: the whole school was at breakfast the next morning when he swaggered into the Great Hall, still sniggering at having successfully rattled Harry's cage--

Wearing nothing but a pair of pumpkin-patterned boxers.

The roar of laughter had turned the pale boy with the shocked mouth to the color of boiled lobster - something captured for posterity by the ever-present camera of Colin Creevey. To add insult to Draco's injured pride, Cindy and Carolyn had swaggered around the castle, proudly flashing pumpkin-shaped and -colored badges with the words "Potter-Granger Spawn" to anyone who came near as they hawked Draco's photograph. The only time the two took off their badges was in Potions; neither one wanted to test Snape's sense of humour by flashing the badges at him.

"Why should I mind?" she said - and shook herself. It wasn't the implied insult behind the name that bothered her - in fact, there were times when she wondered if her and Harry's children would be anything like those two - and her thoughts screeched to a halt, thinking back on the dream that Ron's untimely frustration had interrupted ...

Her eyes fell on the torn parchment that Ron had left behind in his haste to escape her wrath. She was about to throw a fire charm on it but stopped - a soft 'Reparo!' caused the parchment to reform and she stared at the mended parchment, wondering where she had seen that face before.

It was ... no, she thought to herself. There was not enough detail in the rough sketch to say whether the person was pretty or not: shoulder length hair, glasses, a strong chin, beautifully shaped lips ...

She frowned as her brain filled in details that were not there: brown hair, blue glasses, green eyes tinged with red from crying ... the image in her mind quickly faded as she tried to hold on to the memory, wondering what she and Cho were doing at the same table, commiserating with the girl--

The portrait door opened and she heard the Fat Lady bidding someone good night, and she smiled at the sight of Harry's flushed and excited face, grateful that the flying lesson that he'd promised the girls had given him an opportunity to fly around for a while ... but the smile turned into a frown as a dejected Carolyn slumped on a couch near her, even as Cindy bounced into the room, Harry's Firebolt over her shoulder.

Brown eyes met green and, with a soft sigh, Hermione sat beside the unhappy girl.

"Hey," she said softly. The younger girl refused to look at her as she placed an arm around her shoulder, although she did lean in to Hermione's warm hug. "We can't be everything to everyone, Carolyn."

Dark eyes looked up at her, tears sparkling within. "Sir Harry only got up to around thirty feet ... and then I froze--"

Hermione's eyes glanced up to an amused Harry; her frown deepening for a moment before she smiled and said: "And you were holding tight to Harry, saying -"

Harry's amused voice interrupted her, using a tone that still haunted her most embarrassing memories: "'Oh, I don't like this, I don't like this at all ....'"

The young witch pulled away to glare at a laughing Harry Potter, who gave her a wink and a nod; the surprised Ca turned to see a red-faced Hermione nodding beside her, apparently lost in memories that the young girl could only wonder at.

"No wonder they call us your spawn," an amused Cindy, now astride Harry's Firebolt, called out. She was hovering close by, her toes barely touching the floor as she demonstrated her control of the Firebolt. Before they could react, Cindy continued, "I mean, Ca is obviously very much like you, Miss Hermione - brilliant, highly magical - scared to death of flying.

"While I --" throwing her chest out so that her 'Spawn' badge glinted in the firelight, "am like Sir Harry - great at flying, above average in subjects--"

"Speak for yourself, Cindy," Carolyn said with a smile. "You're absolutely brilliant ... you just don't exert yourself."

"Sounds familiar, Ca," Hermione said with a smile and an affectionate glance at Harry. The latter stuck out his tongue at her - and ducked as she sent a cushion flying. Within seconds, a major battle erupted - Ca and Hermione on one side, Harry and Cindy on the other, cushions flying around the room.

Soon enough, the four were sprawled out, breathing heavily from their exertion, and laughing at the small respite from the real world. Harry's eyes caught Hermione's, and they smiled, grateful for whatever kind Divinity had placed the two young girls in their lives.

Harry noticed the parchment that Hermione had been looking at and walked over; he frowned and turned to her, asking, "Hermione ... who's this?"

"That's Sir Ron's dream girl." Harry and Hermione gaped at an exhausted Cindy, eyebrows climbing into their hairlines - and were surprised to see that Ca was also nodding. "It's why Sir Ron keeps trying to draw, even if he's not really good at it ... he said that he met her in a dream, but can't seem to remember too much..."

Harry and Hermione exchanged frowns at that, and Hermione spoke, "How'd you know that, girls?"

"We heard Sir Ron talking with Dean about it." Their elders exchanged a quick smile at that - these two had a gossip network that had Ginny, Lavender and Parvati beat, not so much because they were wired into every gossip network in Hogwarts, but because - being ickle Firsties - most people tended to ignore them, not realizing that they were living, breathing people with brains and ears.

"When did this happen?"

The two girls exchanged a look - Harry and Hermione knew what the response would be: "I think ... it started soon after Sir Ron visited you in the Hospital Wing."

Again, brown eyes met green and locked; a small shake of the head, a shrug of the shoulder, a responding nod - and they looked up in surprise when Cindy said to Ca, "I hate it when they do that."

The other girl sniffed, "Yeah ... don't they know it's not polite to talk in a different language when other people are with them?"

Carolyn easily ducked the cushion Hermione threw, and ran to hide behind Cindy, laughing at having irked her mentor. Her face fell, however, as Hermione said in her bossy, Hermione-the-Prefect tone: "Time for bed, girls."

"Do we have to, Miss Hermione?" Ca wailed plaintively.

Cindy, however, was on her feet and dragging her best friend towards the stairs. "Come on, Ca ... you know what they're gonna do when we go up."

"Ooooh ... you mean they'll be snuggling ..."

"And canoodling ..."

"Maybe some kissing?"

"Probably some snogging ..."

Carolyn suddenly planted her feet firmly on the floor, turned to their mouth-agape mentors and said, in a pleading voice: "Can I watch? Please? Pretty please, with pumpkin pie on top?"

It took only a second for Hermione to react, and the two young witches were running up the stairs, howling with laughter as cushions chased after them--

The Terrible Spawn stopped at the top of the stairs calling out, "Good night, Mummy! Good night, Daddy! Pleasant dreams!" before disappearing into their dormitory.

***

With no target left to vent her ire on, Hermione glared at Harry, who was rolling on the floor, laughing and clutching his stomach - and she was reminded of James ... a thought quickly replaced by the picture of her own laughing father beside James -- and she finally smiled at the antics of the two young girls.

Harry sat up, still sniggering as he leaned back against an armchair, saying, "They must take after your side of the family, Hermione."

"My family?" an outraged Hermione shrieked, but then she sighed. "Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, they will forever more be called our Spawn ... what will you do when they start dating?"

"Please!" A horrified Harry Potter blurted. "We'll be out of Hogwarts before they start dating ... or rather, I'll be out of Hogwarts by the time they start dating."

His voice dropped as he pulled himself on to the chair mumbling, "One way or another."

Hermione felt a wave of sadness wrapping around her like an old, familiar robe and she took a deep breath, wondering how long Harry would be going through these mood swings. Silently, she settled herself on his lap and wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on his chest: "There is NO 'other' way, Harry Potter. You WILL DEFEAT that poor excuse of a wizard ... you will be HERE to hex ANYONE who looks cross-eyed at the girls ..."

She leaned back and looked into his eyes: "You're a great wizard, Harry ... never forget that."

She felt him leaning back and she rested her head on his chest, in a pose and position by now so familiar, weeks after the accident that had landed them in a Fantasy Island of their dreams ... a place where truths had been spoken and revealed, where emotions long kept buried had boiled out - and where a quiet affirmation of trust, loyalty and love for each other had been made.

Strangely enough, Hermione thought, as her mind drifted in the comfort of his presence, there had been no real change in the way they'd acted towards each other. They walked the familiar corridors and grounds of Hogwarts - never holding hands but finding a hundred different ways to touch hands or elbows or fingers unobtrusively.

Hermione's chair in the Common Room now had a partner - and they'd spent many a night in those chairs: reading quietly, studying silently, passing quill, ink or parchment to the other when needed without a word being said. Or they'd simply sit in those chairs in companionable silence - neither noticing their hands within inches of the other, sometimes touching, sometimes not.

She felt Harry stirring and smiled. Much as she was loath to move away from this most comfortable of places, she knew that his feet would soon be turning numb from her weight. She started to slide off his lap but froze when she felt his hands stopping her - and saw Harry's green eyes on her.

Her breath hitched, and she felt herself lean forward until their foreheads were touching, eyes locked, breath mingling ...

A whispered "I love you" and they smiled for the briefest of moments before she leaned into him, her hands running through his hair even as he was bringing his head down to meet her ... feeling the familiar thrill down her spine as she felt his lips brushing her cheek ... unaware of a soft moan from Harry as he felt her hands tightening in his hair--

A flash of flame made them jump apart in surprise - and they saw a golden feather floating in the air. Hermione's puzzled look turned into a disappointed 'Oh' when Harry groaned, "Fawkes."

A beat of time later, and the flames in the fireplace burned brighter, the flames reaching higher, and they stood up chorusing, "Good evening, Headmaster," as Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the flames.

"Good evening, Harry -- Hermione. I trust I am not interrupting anything?" His eyes twinkled at their smiles, although in truth, their faces would have made a hungry tiger cower in fear. He gestured them to their seats even as he saw the golden feather on the floor and understood why Fawkes had popped out of his office as he walked to his fireplace, and paused to frown at a corner of the room--

"Is there anything we could do for you, Headmaster?"

He shook himself and smiled: "Indeed there is, which is why I took the chance of seeing if either of you were still awake."

He quickly allayed their fears - "No, no ... nothing so urgent as that. Actually, it's about Sarah--

"Please sit down," he said in a placating tone as the two teens jumped to their feet. "She's fine and she should be in Hogsmeade by now; in fact, she will be joining us for the Easter Ball tomorrow night."

He cut off their questions: "She's in England for a few months to research British wizarding law and customs; and then she'll go back to America where she will be reading law."

He smiled at the delighted looks on their faces, and saw the interest in Hermione's eyes - no doubt, she would be pestering Sarah for insights into S.P.E.W. "In any case, I promised her that I will be taking her around Hogsmeade, but unfortunately, I have been called to a meeting at the Ministry, so-"

"We'd be delighted to meet her, Professor," Harry interrupted, as Hermione nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, may I suggest that you head off to sleep? I'll owl Sarah to expect you ..."

"Ummm, Professor," Hermione interrupted him. "Will Sarah remember us? It's been some time after all ..."

Dumbledore smiled. "She does, Hermione - in fact, she's excited to meet you again and, yes -- she remembers Harry and his Elvis impersonation."

Hermione laughed, and gently poked a red-faced Harry in the ribs; the latter, however, asked, "Professor ... do you have to tell Sarah that you will not make it tomorrow?"

Dumbledore's eyebrow moved up an inch and he smiled, "All right, Harry. I'll let you surprise her."

The teacher and the students smiled at each other and suddenly fell silent. For an awkward moment, they stood there looking at each other as if waiting for someone to make a move until, with a cheerful "Good night!" Dumbledore turned to the fireplace to Floo back to his office, leaving the two teens alone in the Common Room.

Harry and Hermione watched as he disappeared and then, as if with a single mind, they smiled and turned to each other. For a long moment, they stared at each other and then - a kiss on the cheek, a tight embrace and they were walking up to their separate dormitories. A pause and a quiet, "Good night, love" - and silence ruled the Common Room.

A minute passed ... two ... and the disembodied heads of two disappointed children appeared, followed a moment later by the rest of their bodies - Cindy clutching a wizarding camera in her hands as Carolyn silently folded the Invisibility Cloak that Harry had lent them, which she had 'forgotten' to return.

"I thought we were going to get it," Cindy said as she slumped on the couch, the camera beside her. "I thought Dumbledore saw us--"

"This is an Invisibility Cloak, Cindy, " Carolyn responded as she sat across her friend. "It worked well enough before - no one saw us."

They snickered at the memory of Draco in his pumpkin-patterned shorts: a situation achieved through the cloak, a Disrobing Spell taught them by Hermione, and the willing assistance of their year-mates who all adored their elder housemates and had provided the necessary distraction and cover for them.

Cindy shrugged; it was Dumbledore after all ... who knows what he could see? In any case, they hadn't been caught then or now - and she sighed at the missed opportunity to catch Harry and Hermione snogging and recording the moment for posterity.

It would make for the perfect wedding gift, they both agreed.

Winning the betting pool that Seamus Finnegan had set up for whoever would be the first to prove conclusively that Harry and Hermione were now a couple would have been icing on the cake.

"C'mon, Cindy - let's go to bed," sighed Carolyn. "Remember what Seamus said - another day, another Galleon."

Silently, the two stood up and trudged to their dormitory, vowing that they will win the pool.

Someday.

Neither one noticed the laughing face of Dumbledore in the fireplace as he watched them, the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes now reaching epic proportions. As he watched them leave, he made a vow to himself: he would do everything in his considerable power to make sure that he would be there beside Harry and Hermione to watch those two leave Hogwarts.

After that, he could consider retirement before the real Potter-Granger spawn came to Hogwarts. 'Let Severus deal with them,' he smirked before turning away from the fireplace in his office, Fawkes' trill of agreement warming his soul.

***

A worried pair of green eyes watched a pale, haggard-looking wizard stagger into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning.

"Ron?"

The bleary-eyed wizard looked up and shook his head, mumbling something about not having a good night's sleep and promising to be all put together by the time they had to leave for Hogsmeade. He looked around - ignoring Dean dropping the hand he'd draped around Ginny's shoulder - cast a groggy eye at Neville who was talking with a laughing Luna at the Ravenclaw table - avoiding the stares of various witches from other houses before turning back to his plate.

Harry was about to say something but stopped when he heard Cindy and Carolyn come in, and frowned when he saw them shaking their heads at an expectant Seamus Finnegan, who nodded, a disappointed look on his face. He was about to remark on this but stopped as Professor McGonagall started tapping a goblet - and the entire Hall quieted down.

"I have a few reminders and an announcement to make," the Deputy Headmistress said as she stood. "As you all know, the Easter Ball in honor of our guests from various American wizarding schools will be tonight, starting at seven o'clock. All students are encouraged to attend, although partners are not required for the lower years."

A faint snicker passed through the room, and a small smile flickered across McGonagall's face.

"The Headmaster and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior." She paused to glare around the room, her steely eyes resting for a moment on the Slytherin table, before moving on and focusing on the Gryffindors, especially the Twins and the Spawn - the Terrible Two, she reminded herself. "Any violation of the rules of behavior and proper decorum will be severely punished. If anyone abuses our trust, they will regret ever hearing my name for the rest of their lives."

The Deputy Headmistress' Scottish brogue thickened at those words, and for some reason, everyone in the room - including the teachers - felt a shiver run down their spines.

"There has been, however, a small change of plans."

The silence in the Hall was thick enough to slice with a dull knife as everyone leaned forward. "The American delegation and some other guests were supposed to arrive today and be assigned quarters here. The Ministry has informed us, however, that they arrived last night and will be staying today and part of tomorrow in Hogsmeade before they come over."

Her eyes roamed the different tables for a moment before she continued. "There was some discussion about postponing the Hogsmeade visit" - a groan rose up from around the room - "but it was felt that you would be responsible enough to comport yourselves properly outside the school.

"You will probably meet some of the Americans at Hogsmeade. I expect everyone to show the proper behavior and correct decorum to our guests. Any incident will be punished severely - if I hear anyone showing less than proper respect for our guests, they can expect to spend tonight in the Forbidden Forest with the Acromantulas."

A small smile broke out on her face as she felt the shivers running around the Hall. "Thank you."

The buzzing started the moment she sat down; and Harry turned to Ron: "Are you sure you can make it, mate? You look like hell ..."

"I'm fine, Harry, just a touch of something." He caught sight of Cindy and Carolyn's worried looks and smiled, "Besides, Uncle Ronald promised to get something from Honeydukes for your Sp-- ow!"

The Gryffindor table snickered as a roll bounced off Ron's head, thrown by a glaring Hermione. Before she could say anything, however, Cindy piped up: "It's S.P.E.W., Uncle Ron - not SPOW!"

The girl's sally was met by laughter; even Hermione had to smile as she shook her head at Ron. Harry caught her eye and raised an eyebrow; Hermione smiled back at him and tilted her head to one side, to which Harry gave a nod even as he reached for the toast rack. Neither one noticed that the other Gryffindors - including Neville and Luna at the Ravenclaw table - were rolling their eyes, snickering, or shaking their heads - until George Weasley's loud voice broke out, "Will you quit that?"

The Gryffindors all stopped what they were doing - even Harry and Hermione - and turned a puzzled eye on the smirking Twins. "Yes, you two," George said, "don't you know it's not polite to speak in another language when there are people around?"

Harry resisted an urge to reach out and shut Hermione's jaw. Fred and George smirked and turned back to their plates; with a shake of his head, Harry started buttering some toast for Hermione, while she gave a small snort before turning back to the rather dusty volume she was holding: "A History of British and American Wizarding Jurisprudence."

***

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

A bleary-eyed, middle-aged witch looked through her glasses at the worried face of Madam Rosmerta and tried to smile, consciously forcing her groggy mind to make sure that her 'smile' would only touch the corners of her mouth. It wouldn't do, she thought, to bare her fangs so early in the morning.

"I'm fine, Miss," she replied. "Thank you for asking--"

"I really must apologize," a flustered Madam Rosmerta said. "The Ministry apparently forgot to inform us of the change in plans, so I wasn't able to enlarge the place--"

"It's all right," the American Assistant Secretary for Magical Education interrupted her. "I know that It has been a rather busy time for you ..."

"That it is, ma'am. Fridays are always the busiest times for inns and pubs ..."

"And besides, it isn't as if I was sharing a room with a total stranger," Anne Umanski continued. She smiled at the puzzled look on the innkeeper's face. "I've met Sarah before, and the girls have been corresponding with your other guest for years."

"Well, all right," the relieved innkeeper said. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Would you be wanting some coffee or tea, dearie? You seem to have had a rough night--"

"Thank you, no," Anne interrupted her, although her raspy voice belied her statement. "I don't want to be a bother. It's just," she shrugged, "waking up in a strange place and all that. You know how it is."

"Aye," Madam Rosmerta nodded in understanding. "T'is always difficult to do so, especially when you're used to waking up with a warm body beside you." She winked at a suddenly-blushing Anne and walked off, saying, "Don't you worry now. I'll have some breakfast ready in a bit -- that should take some of the edge off."

The bleary-eyed Anne Umanski contemplated Rosmerta's words and shook herself, reaching for the coffeepot the tavern owner had left as her mind went back over the events of the past few days - and their hosts.

What were these Brits trying to do, she wondered? Show us up? They would have the kids at Hogwarts for the rest of their school year, and what better way to introduce the children to their new school than an Easter Ball in Hogwarts? But no - that pompous Fudge and his equally pompous assistant Beazley had wanted to take them on a fecking tour of Magical England!

Including, she shuddered, a visit to Azkaban? For what? Did they think that the kids she'd brought were hoodlums who had to be frightened into complying with rules and regulations ...

Oh well, she sighed. When in Rome, accept what the Romans do. American wizards may have come from British traditions, but the way these Brits held on to their traditions! She held down a snicker as she remembered Jim McCormick's comment as he snapped a picture in the Leaky Cauldron: "Ah! Magical London! Wizards! Spells! Incredibly out of date clothes!"

She shook her head, reminding herself that she was in England as a guest of their wizarding government, and forcing her mind to other, more pleasant things -- like watching Puddlemere United's practice yesterday and that oh-so-gorgeous Oliver Wood showing off his paces and teaching the kids the finer points of the game. Now there was a lovely piece of eye-candy ...

And she laughed to herself, feeling the headache slowly dissipating from the combination of caffeine, humour, and sheer gutter-mindedness. Oliver Wood ... not something Mr. U would appreciate her bringing home, and Maya would be too young to appreciate having an honest-to-goodness Brit Keeper in their household.

A nice, cold shower - that's the ticket. She missed Mr. U and Maya on these trips, but there was no way out of it: it was too good an opportunity to miss - and Mr. U had been so understanding about it. In any case, she thought, they would be catching up with her in a few days when her responsibilities ended; they could spend a few days touring Magical and Muggle England and catch up with each other ... with luck, they could catch another practice session of Puddlemere United and she can have Maya pose with that eye-candy Keeper--

"Good morning, Anne." She shook herself as Sarah Chon took a seat and proceeded to pour herself some coffee, cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "I really wouldn't mind bringing Oliver Wood home myself -"

"What?" Sarah danced a jig as she avoided the coffee that Anne spilled, and laughed at the older woman's outraged sputter. With an amused smile, Sarah continued, "You were talking in your sleep last night."

"I was not!" The blush on her cheeks belied her quick denial and Anne was wondering whether the table was big enough to hide her - and blinked when Sarah said, in a gleeful voice, "Gotcha!"

She bared her fangs at the laughing girl who merely grinned back, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Witch!" she murmured, as she cast a drying spell on the table and smiled at Sarah's "Thank you!"

A clatter of plates announced Rosmerta's return, and Anne could feel her stomach growling - from the smile on Sarah's face, she knew the other girl was having the same thought.

As Rosmerta bustled about preparing breakfast, a bushy-haired, sleepy-eyed teen stumbled into the room, a fist trying to contain her yawning mouth - but her seeming sleepiness disappeared when Sarah launched herself out of her chair, gleefully shouting, "Hermione!"

"Excuse me?" the bushy-haired girl squeaked as Sarah enfolded her in a tight hug - and Sarah quickly let go, stepping back in surprise and disappointment, as the girl asked, "I'm sorry - but do I know you?"

"Hermione--" Sarah began, but stopped at the genuinely puzzled look on the other girl's face, and she felt herself flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. You look exactly like someone I know -- at least, as I imagined her to be. I haven't seen her in some time and ..."

She trailed off, but before the girl could speak, a gaping Rosmerta blurted, "You're early, Hermione - did the Headmaster allow you out ahead of the others?"

"Huh?" The clueless response made Madam Rosmerta frown, but the entry of a pretty Chinese girl made her turn, "Cho? Are the students arriving already?"

"Huh?" The other girl responded, as she tried to blink the sleepiness out of her eyes. She looked from one to the other, a completely puzzled look on her face and said the only thing she could, "Excuse me?"

"What's going on here?" They turned to Anne's puzzled voice but before the adults could respond, 'Hermione' extended her hand to Sarah. "Hello - I'm Joyce Cohen, with the American exchange students? And this," gesturing to the pretty girl beside her, "is Lils; she's from Singapore --"

"Ach! My apologies," Madam Rosmerta said. "You two look almost exactly like some students I know that I got confused."

"That would be my cousin Cho Chang," the pretty girl said in a soft voice. "She's in Hogwarts, Ravenclaw I believe."

"We've been corresponding with Lils for some time," Joyce added. "The others didn't see her since we arrived rather late and Nic's been feeling down; I think the visit to Azkaban took something out of her - is something wrong?"

"No, no," Sarah waved the question off, exchanging a quick grin with an equally amused Rosmerta. "You sound exactly like Hermione as I knew her - and that was about six years ago ..."

"She hasn't changed," Rosmerta put in, and turned to Joyce. "Are you sure you don't have a cousin here or something?"

"Maybe a twin that was separated at birth?" Sarah added with a smirk.

The teen shook her head at that, and Anne stepped in. "Well, Joyce is one of our brightest students - and she's been a great help to me in keeping the others in line. She's very responsible--"

"Sounds just like Hermione," Rosmerta broke in with a smile. "She's at the top of her year, a Prefect, everyone says she'll be Head Girl in a few years - are you sure you're not related, dear?"

Joyce shook her head, and Anne took the opportunity to usher them all to her table for breakfast. As she sat down, she asked, "Are the others coming down, Joyce?"

"Well - I heard Gillian huffing and puffing away in her room" - she broke off to explain to Sarah, "she's into ballet and says she needs to keep up with her exercises." Turning back to Anne, she continued, "Which means Kaze should also be up by now. Pat and Photo, I mean, Jim, should also be up, at least I heard them talking in their room ... I saw Erin as she was going to the bathroom; she said she's letting Nic sleep, apparently the poor girl didn't have a good night's sleep."

"Is something wrong with Nic?" a worried Lils asked. "Is she still having those dreams?"

"Dreams?" The others looked at her and she flushed. "She wrote me something about having dreams; working at a place called 'The Red Queen' or something like that."

Joyce frowned at that, "She did mention something about it, I think ... a few weeks back. Maybe that's why the Dementors affected her so badly?"

"Probably," Anne said, with a worried look. She looked up as the other Americans walked into the room, and she stood up to greet them - neither she or Joyce aware that Sarah was smiling as she watched the latter.

'I wonder if Hogwarts can survive two Hermione Grangers at the same time,' she thought to herself - and stopped as the image of two bouncy, fun-loving but highly intelligent witches walked through her mind - and she stopped the laughter bubbling inside her as she remembered her grandfather's letters. 'If Joyce is anything like Cindy and Carolyn, Grandfather may well decide to become Minister of Magic. Dealing with bureaucrats may well seem like a vacation, rather than dealing with four Hermiones.'

With that thought, she stood up as Anne introduced the others to her.

***

Head down, hands in pockets, Ron Weasley opened the door to the Hogsmeade branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies, once again lost in thought about the changes in his life. The Accident had thrown things out of whack; there was a sense of asymmetry in their previously balanced lives ...

He'd been with them in the carriage on the way to Hogsmeade, but begged off joining them at the Three Broomsticks - unwilling to be witness and a third wheel to a meeting of old friends. How they knew the Sarah they'd be meeting was something they couldn't really explain; as he understood it, they'd met when they were nine years old - nine? - and he'd stopped Hermione's rambling attempt to explain the situation.

He didn't want to hear it.

It was just another sign of how things had changed ... another nail in his chest as he realized that there were things that he never knew about his closest friends, even if they had been together since the first trip on the Hogwarts Express--

Correction.

He had never really been friends with Hermione; well, neither had Harry, but there always seemed to be something unspoken between the two from the moment Hermione had barged into their compartment in her search for Trevor the Toad ... and he wondered whether that was the reason behind his resentful and boorish attitude towards Hermione at the start.

No, he thought. He wasn't as big a prat as others were - Malfoy was top dog there - just a typical boy, but then again, he wondered ... wondered if there was a character flaw hidden deep within him - 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 blinked at a flash of red hair in the crowded store - a friendly face! he thought, even if it was only Ginny. He quickly walked over, one part of his mind wondering why Dean wasn't around, another wondering who the dark-haired girl with her was, a third questioning where Ginny would find the money to buy a Firebolt II and quickly dismissing that - why shouldn't she drool over it as he had?

"Hey, Gin--" He blinked when the girl faced him and he realized that this was not Ginny: where Ginny was lanky, this girl was lithe; where Ginny was often awkward, this girl stood poised and balanced as if she were a dancer. He flushed and quickly apologized, "I'm sorry - I thought you were my sister--"

"I'll say," the other girl said, and he turned to her with a smile - and froze. The redheaded girl looked in surprise from one to the other before clearing her throat, breaking the other two out of their shocked trance.

"Do I know you?" they simultaneously said, and blushed as they turned away, both shaking their heads.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, extending his hand to the girl, feeling long, slim strong fingers - pianist's hands, he thought -- wrapping around his and giving him a firm shake.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Erin," the girl said, "and this is Gilly - Gillian."

The redheaded girl shook hands with Ron, watching the other two with interest and wondering what the story was. Ron spoke, a puzzled look on his face: "You play the piano, don't you?"

Erin's frown was a perfect match to his own as she responded, "Yes, I do ... do you sing?"

"Only in the shower," Ron said, and blushed. Gillian smirked and was about to say something when a loud, obnoxious voice that Ron knew only too well was heard over the crowd: "Is the Mudblood buying something to clean Potty's broomstick with?"

Heads turned, and Ron could feel himself flushing as he saw a shocked Hermione staring at a smirking Draco Malfoy flanked by a sniggering Crabbe and Goyle. He started to move towards her when Malfoy's eyes turned on him, and the smirk turned vicious: "Oh, the Weasel's here - are you going to help her clean Potty's broomstick too?"

Seeing red, Ron started to rush the leering Slytherin but felt himself shoved aside as a tall, broad-shouldered teen strode up, grabbed Malfoy's shirt and started lifting him up, asking, "What were you calling the lady, blondie?"

Malfoy's eyes started bugging out as the air was cut from his lungs; Crabbe, on his left, started to move but stopped as he felt a wand tickling his ear and an American-accented voice twanged, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Goyle had succeeded in drawing his wand, but stopped when he realized that Ron's wand was in his face.

"Put him down, Pat!" Ron blinked as he saw Hermione's hands on the big teen's arm, trying to make him release the now purple-faced Malfoy, who was gaping like a fresh-caught trout as he struggled to breathe. Pat - whoever he was - simply tightened his grip on Malfoy, and Ron was beginning to worry that he would be a witness to murder --

"What's going on here?" Heads swiveled around as Hogwarts' Potions Master strode into the shop, followed by a steely-eyed Anne Umanski whose harsh voice was a perfect counterpart to Snape's cold voice: "Put that boy down, Pat."

The big teen dropped Malfoy and Ron almost laughed at the expression on the madly coughing Malfoy as he knelt on the floor, but he was cut off as Snape turned to him: "Put down that wand, Weasley, unless you want to start belching slugs."

Flushing, Ron lowered his wand and was about to speak when Draco spoke from the floor: "He attacked me, Professor--"

"What!" Ron and the other two guys reacted angrily, but they were cut off by Snape's cold glare and sneering contempt: "I see--"

"Liar!" Snape's cold eyes locked on the bushy-haired girl who was now holding back two angry teens. "You started it, you filthy--"

"Silence, Miss Granger!" Snape's next words were cut off, however, by the fiery glare of the girl as she turned on him: "I am not Miss Granger whoever she is, you nitwit!"

The Potion Master's eyes bulged and his mouth dropped at that retort; for a moment, Ron wished that Colin Creevey - who he saw in the crowd - had thought to bring his camera but even Colin was frozen at what was going on. Before Snape could get his mouth into working order, however, Anne's voice lashed out: "Miss Cohen! You will apologize to Professor Snape right now."

The girl blanched, and it was her turn to go through the eye-bulging, mouth- open routine. The silence in the shop was so profound that no one missed the snicker that escaped the now-standing Draco's mouth - or his trademark smirk at having gotten one over the Gryffindors. His glee was short-lived, however, as Snape turned to Anne: "Miss Cohen? That's Miss Granger--"

"No," the Assistant Secretary for Magical Education said, in a steely voice that reminded the audience of McGonagall at her feistiest. "That is Joyce Cohen, one of my students."

"Professor." Eyes turned to Ron as he stepped up to the two adults, Draco now watching him warily, eyes darting around as if seeking an escape hatch. "Malfoy came in here and started insulting Her--I mean, Miss Cohen, which is why her friends stepped in."

"Insult? What do you mean insult, Mr. Weasley?"

"Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Professor."

"What?!" The look that Assistant Secretary Anne Umanski cast at Malfoy was enough to make the latter step back, hands raised in a defensive gesture - she turned to face Snape who also stepped back at her steely glare. "Is that what you are teaching your students at Hogwarts, Professor?"

"It is most definitely not, Madam," Snape responded in his silkiest purr. "Unfortunately, there are some people" - he turned to glare at Malfoy - "whose social position is much higher than their intelligence."

He paused for a moment, and turned his glare full-blast on the gaping Malfoy. "Get out of here. I will deal with you later."

The shop was silent as Malfoy, followed by his two cronies, quickly exited the shop - pausing only to glare at Ron and the others before heading out. As the door closed, Snape turned to the Americans with a slight bow: "My apologies, Miss Umanski ... Miss Cohen."

"Please, Professor," Joyce said. "I ... uhm, shouldn't have called you names--"

"Apology accepted, Miss Cohen - although I must request that we keep this incident quiet. It wouldn't help if we started your program on the wrong footing ..."

"Of course, Professor," the young girl said, flushing a bit. "Although that, that--"

"I will take care of Mr. Malfoy, Miss Cohen, rest assured of that." He paused and cast a glare around the shop; the Hogwarts students in the place quickly nodded and turned away and a cold smile curled his lips. Seeing the other Americans in the place, he gave a short bow, "Ladies, gentlemen."

Turning to Anne, he gave a formal bow before saying, "Shall we proceed with our tour, Miss Anne?"

The latter smiled although her stance indicated that she would much rather have someone else - preferably younger and with less grease in his hair - escorting her. She nodded at her students, and turned to walk with the Potions Master, who gallantly held the door open for her to pass through.

"That was interesting." Ron turned to see a seemingly deflated Joyce Cohen wavering on her feet. He was about to assist her when the tall teen named Pat stepped up and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl, asking, "You OK, sweet?"

The girl seemed to draw strength from her friend - and for a moment, Ron was struck by how much the gesture reminded him of his best friends. He almost sniggered at the thought of Harry seeing double over the next few months, and blinked when he realized that a puzzled Joyce was looking at him. If this were Hermione, he mused, her brain would be processing information at lightning speed as she asked: "Excuse me, but have we met before?"

"Not unless you tried to slap me for mistaking you for Hermione," he responded lightly - and frowned as he felt a brief sensation of pain on his cheek. He glanced at Joyce and her friends, who were all staring at him in surprise. "What? I got dirt on my nose or something?"

His light tone broke the tension and the girl and her two friends laughed, and he heard a titter from behind him - glancing about, he saw that Ginny - Gillian, he reminded himself - and Erin smiling. He turned back to Joyce, his hand extended: "I'm Ron Weasley, Hogwarts Class of '97."

Joyce shook his hand as she responded, "Joyce Cohen. And this," indicating the others, "is Pat; Jim - who we sometimes call Photoman" - he held up a camera that was hanging over his shoulder - "for reasons that are obvious."

Glancing around, she saw Gilly and Erin and called them over, "This is Gillian and Erin - we're all with the American delegation."

"We've met," Ron said with a smile at the two American witches.

An awkward silence fell and then Joyce smiled, "I really would like to meet this Hermione - why do people keep confusing us?"

She blinked at Ron's sudden bark of laughter, and he quickly sobered: "You wouldn't ask that when you meet her. She should be at the Three Broomsticks about now, unless they're somewhere around Hogsmeade..."

"Do you know her?"

Ron smiled at her bemused face, "She's one of my best friends - has been since we were First Years --"

His smile faded, however, as his earlier thoughts came back to him: they had been best friends since First Year - Harry, Hermione and himself. He felt a hand on his arm and blinked, his eyes focusing on familiar brown eyes filled with concern ... realized it was Joyce looking at him and forced a smile. "Sorry - got lost in memories there. What were you saying?"

He caught the look of concern that passed between Joyce and Pat; saw a flash of sympathy and understanding in Jim's eyes as Joyce turned back to him, "Why don't you join us back at the Three Broomsticks, Ron? We can wait for Hermione there--"

"Sure, but I have some errands to run." He paused, grinned. "Why don't you guys join me? I have to get some things at Honeydukes and Zonko's - that's the sweet shop and joke shop here - and I can give you a guided tour of Hogsmeade at the same time."

"Oh, good! I wanted to ask around for a guide but Pat and Jim said it was better to go exploring on our own. I read in Sites of Historical Sorcery that the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack is supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain --"

The mention of the Shrieking Shack made Ron's eyes go blank as two disparate memories clamored for attention: one of Hermione on the train, talking about the very things that Joyce was asking about while he kept rambling on and on about Pepper Imps, Chocoballs and sugar quills; the other of the Shrieking Shack one cold, moonlit night almost two years ago when an act of unbelievable treachery was revealed, and an adventure where he was unable to fully participate had happened--

"What?" Joyce's voice broke through his thoughts and he blinked, catching sight of Jim and the girls rolling their eyes at Herm--Joyce's, he reminded himself, recitation of historical facts about Hogsmeade, even as Pat was doubled over from the elbow that had hit his chest - and he shook himself.

"Are you sure you and Hermione were not separated at birth?" His amused voice caused laughter to rise in the others, except for Joyce's suddenly red face. She was about to say something when Pat's arm went around her in a comforting hug, and she closed her mouth - to the sounds of gagging from Jim and amused chuckles from Gillian and Erin.

Erin suddenly spoke up, "Why don't you guys go on ahead and meet me at the Three Broomsticks? I have to check in on Nicole--"

"Nicole?"

"My roommate," Erin replied. "She's been feeling under the weather lately--"

Her words faded out as, for a brief moment, the memory of a girl in a khaki twill skirt, orange tank and a black short-sleeve button-up shirt left unbuttoned walked through his mind. He shook his head in time to wave to the departing Erin, and turned back with a smile to his new friends before turning to lead them around the wizarding village of Hogsmeade.

***

'Booooring!' The thought boomed around Nicole's mind as she rigorously tried to keep an interested face as Kaze and Blaise Zabini moved from topic to topic seemingly at random - and she snorted softly to herself as she regarded the two sitting with her in the Three Broomsticks.

Kaze was an enigma, she thought again: tall at 5'9, fair-skinned, with soft brown hair streaked with red and gold highlights framing a now-animated face. Nicole couldn't be sure whether the other girl was joking when she said that she enjoyed the visit to Azkaban - but then, there seemed to be a dark and brooding side to the other girl, and she found herself wondering whether it was this 'dark side' that had attracted the tall and handsome wizard sitting at their table.

Blaise Zabini, he'd introduced himself. Hogwarts Class of '97, making him a fifth year by the Brit system. Slytherin, he'd said, as if that made a difference and she shivered as the name made its way through her mind. There was something ... slithering in the name, bringing to mind serpents and the Garden of Eden - maybe that's why Kaze seemed to be intrigued with him in return.

She looked around the crowded tavern and her eyes locked on Lils, sitting at another table with her cousin who was talking animatedly with several guys. Lils gave her a wink and a slow eye roll, and Nicole giggled -- probably discussing Quidditch again, she thought. Lils may well be bored out of her pretty skull, but she knew how to roll with the punches and Nicole gave her a wink to which the other girl responded before turning back to the others at her table.

Nicole turned back to her companions and sighed. She hoped that the rest of the school year would turn out better than it had so far although, she admitted that, Azkaban aside, these Brits did know how to make you feel welcome. Imagine - a ball just to greet you and introduce you to the student population of the school ... although, to be honest about it, this was a far better approach to getting to know people than a formal dance in a drafty old castle--

'Oh shite,' she thought as her ears suddenly picked up on the music emanating from the Wizarding Wireless that someone in the noisy room had inadvertently placed on full volume - and the familiar strains of 'Somewhere in Time' floated into the room and a soft, mellow voice started the lines of that oh-so-familiar tune ... and Nic felt a shiver down her spine as if she were stepping on to the shores of Azkaban prison once again.

For a moment, she fought back against the memory but knew that it would be hopeless ... Her dream/nightmare of the night before asserted itself, albeit in a different way: she saw herself in Jayne Seymour's place in the movie, screaming as a red-haired, freckle-faced Christopher Reeve was torn from her embrace ...

She heard a voice speaking from a distance and grabbed it as if it were a lifeline that could bring her safely back, realizing that it was Blaise Zabini's explaining to Kaze: "Celestina Warbeck. She's the most popular singer in Wizarding England ... she has a new album out, using Muggle songs like that--"

"Are you all right, Nic?" She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked into the concerned eyes of Erin, her best friend and 'big sister.' She nodded and smiled, about to allay her friend's fears when a snide and malicious voice interrupted her: "Only someone like you would enjoy that smarmy Muggle shite that Warbeck's dishing out, Zabini."

She looked up to see a tall blond with what looked like a permanent sneer on his face standing by their table, an arm around a broad girl with a face like a pug, flanked on both sides by two large boys who looked as if everything they knew could be written on a matchbook with a felt-tipped pen.

She fought back the urge to rearrange the smug look on the blonde's face, but her mouth got the better of her: "I happen to like that smarmy Muggle shite."

"And what would you know about Wizarding music, little girl?" Draco Malfoy's trademark sneer made Nicole's blood boil, but she glared back with full force: "I know it's much better than that mating call you sometimes call music."

"Mating call, huh? At least you can find someone with our music. Tell you what, I'll walk into the Great Hall naked tonight if you can snag a pureblooded wizard into asking you for a date with that Muggle tripe."

"You're on!" Nicole stood up quickly, sending her chair with enough force to slam into Miss Anne who, followed by Snape, had approached to cut the building argument that had the entire tavern silenced. Nicole turned and locked eyes with a shocked Erin who, after one look at her, mutely nodded in support. With that, Nicole strode towards an old upright piano beside the tavern's bar, brushing past an astonished Miss Anne.

***

In a table near the door, Harry Potter looked up from his mug of butterbeer at the sound of Malfoy's contemptuous voice. He was about to stand up and make his way over but was stopped by Hermione's hand on his arm and he turned to see her eyes warning him to stay put. He was about to protest but Sarah's voice stopped him: "I think that blond git has met his match."

He turned back to his companions, and saw that even Hermione's eyebrows were rising in question. Sarah smiled back and said, "That's Nicole. From what the others told me, she's got a wonderful singing voice, as does the other girl -- Erin. If anyone can pull this off, they can."

Harry turned back to watch the two girls walking towards the piano - and felt something tugging at his memory. There was something familiar about them, he thought ... something that he should remember ... something that felt recognizable about this place and the circumstances. He shifted around to look at Hermione and their eyes met - the frown he saw there deepened his unease, and he was about to ask what it was when a hard slap on his back almost made him dive into the butterbeer.

"Harry! I've been looking all over for you." Ron's enthusiastic voice identified whoever it was who'd slapped his back and he looked up to snarl a response at his friend - but merely gaped as he saw the girl beside him.

Sarah's soft snicker as she said, "I told you they were separated at birth," made him close his mouth and he stood up, looking from one Hermione to another in astonishment. "Do I know you?" he asked, and shook himself as he heard his words echoed by the other two at the same time.

A flash of light made him blink and he turned around to admonish Colin Creevy but stopped as a tall teen put down his camera with the words, "If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it," and he found himself agreeing with those words.

Ron's bark of laughter broke his trance, and he turned to face his friend as Ron said, with a smile, "I wonder how you could tell them apart, Pat."

"Don't worry, I will," the tall, broad-shouldered teen beside Ron said with a laugh. "Even if we have to put sashes around them or something."

The two girls broke off from their gaping contest to glare at him and Harry could sympathize as he watched the teen step back as if the girls had threatened him with knives. The teen with the camera snickered, "They even have the same death-glare, Pat," and then whispered, "Oh crap," when Hermione and her twin glowered at him.

"Hermione Granger, meet Joyce Cohen." The girls and Harry blinked at the grinning Sarah, "and this is Harry Potter."

Joyce had shaken hands with Hermione and turned to Harry, hand out but she stopped suddenly and frowned. "Do I know you?"

Before Harry could respond, Ron spoke up, "Not unless the story of The-Boy-Who-Lived has made it across the pond."

Harry glared at Ron's smirking face and was about to retort angrily, but was interrupted by the red-headed girl standing to Ron's side who near-squealed, "Oh, you're that Harry Potter!"

He closed his eyes briefly at that, wondering whether another Ginny had made her way into his life and opened his eyes to glare at a snickering Hermione - and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of dizziness washing over him at the sight of two of them in front of him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and blinked as the broad-shouldered teen said, "I know how you feel, man. We better learn to tell them apart or we might end up hexed for kissing the wrong girl!"

"Pat!" The teen ignored the protest and held out his hand to Harry. "I'm Pat, by the way; this is Jim, and that's Gillian."

Harry shook hands with Pat and the others, mentally thanking whichever star stood watch over him as Gillian shook his hand firmly; at least, she didn't go all fan-girlish on him, he thought. He smiled as he looked at her fully for the first time, and realized that the red hair was all that she had in common with the Weasleys; he didn't think he could handle the prospect of two Hermiones and two Ginnys in his life at the same time.

He was about to say something but a soft, melodious voice caused the room to hush and he turned towards the bar even as he heard Jim's voice ask, "What the hell is going on?"

***

As we eye

The blue horizon's bend

Earth and sky

Appear to meet and end

But it's merely an illusion

Like your heart and mine

There is no sweet conclusion

The noisy tavern had fallen into a deafening silence by the fourth line of the song, and Blaise Zabini smirked at the shocked face of Draco Malfoy. He was about to reach out to close the latter's mouth but was stopped by a warm hand on his and he turned to see the sparkling brown eyes of Kaze as she smiled at him, and he smiled back as he settled back to listen to Nicole's song.

I can see

No matter how near you'll be

You'll never belong to me

But I can dream

Can't I?

Can't I pretend

That I'm locked in the bend

Of your embrace

For dreams

Are just like wine,

And I am drunk

With mine

Harry felt a hand in his, and he gripped it tightly, his eyes still on the brown-haired girl in green glasses who was standing by the piano, seemingly pouring her heart into the song. He felt Hermione standing beside him, and he stepped behind her, arms going around her waist as he laid his chin on her head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Pat and Joyce in a similar pose and he smiled at them.

I'm aware

My heart is a sad affair

There's much disillusion there

But I can dream

Can't I?

Can't I adore you

Although we are oceans apart

I can't make you open your heart

But I can dream

Can't I?

Anne Umanski blinked the tears from her eyes, wishing that her husband and daughter were beside her right here, right now. Nicole's song tugged at her heart; she could feel every nuance of the song and she could feel every beat as she thought of Mr. U in his den with Maya on his lap, probably looking through their albums as he sat with a glass of wine in hand as he thought about her ...

She looked around the room and gasped at the look on Snape's face, wondering for a moment whether someone had kidnapped the constipated professor who had grudgingly toured her around Hogsmeade and replaced him with a reasonable facsimile thereof, with a softer face, a wistful smile and - Horrors! she thought, was the big git crying?

She turned back to Nicole and blinked as she realized that Lils was now beside Erin, and the two young girls blended their voices into the chorus:

Can't I pretend

That I'm locked in the bend

Of your embrace

For dreams

Are just like wine,

And I am drunk

With mine

Nicole smiled at her friends who grinned back at her, and she looked around the tavern - and froze as her eyes met a pair of so achingly familiar blue eyes in a red-haired, freckled face and she wondered how she could stand there when her heart had stopped beating.

She felt Lils poking her and she quickly got back to the business at hand, although her eyes remained locked on Ron, who was the only animated person in a tableau of frozen bodies as he made his way slowly towards her ...

I'm aware

My heart is a sad affair

There's much disillusion there

But I can dream

Can't I?

Can't I adore you

Although we are oceans apart?

I can't make you open your heart

But I can dream

Can't I?

As she slowly put down her makeshift mic, the entire room was silent as if a charm had been cast around the place - and then, with a sniffle, Rosmerta's hands slapped together and, within seconds, a groundswell of cheers erupted from all over the room, followed by thunderous applause and she bowed her head to the cheering crowd.

At their table, a whistling Blaise Zabini turned to a sneering Draco and asked, "So, hotshot - what time will we expect your spectacular entrance tonight?"

The blond Slytherin sneered. "She may have gotten into your Muggle-loving heart, Zabini but she still hasn't gotten a date with anyone with that stupid song."

"I believe you are about to lose your bet, Mr. Malfoy."

He whirled around to gape at his Head of House, who had silently walked up behind him, face back into its unreadable and implacable mask, cold dark eyes with no hint of tears staring him down. "Professor," he started to protest but stopped when Snape turned away from him to look towards the center of the room.

Draco Malfoy felt the blood draining away from his body as he saw the penurious pure-blood Ron Weasley standing like a lunk and staring at the brown haired girl who was also staring up at him as the room's occupants held their collective breath. Time slowed down for him and he found himself begging that the Weasel would not do what he was about to do, and he was tempted to pull out his wand and stun him before Ron could open his big mouth--

"I wouldn't try that if I were you," the cold voice of Miss Anne sounded in his ear and he blinked, realizing that his wand hand was half out of his robes - but realized that the girl with Zabini also had her wand out and ready. He closed his eyes tightly but there was no way he could close his ears to the hoarse voices that everyone in the silenced room could hear...

"Nicole?"

"Ron?"

"This isn't a dream, is it?"

He opened his eyes, prepared to scream at the smarmy scene that was playing out in front of him but felt his voice catch in his throat as he saw the big lunk folding his arms around Nicole as if he was wrapping his arms around a statue made of spun glass while she was embracing him, her face buried in his chest as he dipped his head to plant a kiss on her brown hair - and he felt the familiar sneer that he'd practiced in the mirror fall back into place.

'Ha!' he thought triumphantly - 'the Weasel hadn't asked the girl for a date!' He was off the hook, he was free from the bet - no matter if Weasley and the girl, whoever she was, walked into the Great Hall snogging, the mere fact that he had not asked her for a date meant that--

"Will you be my date for the ball tonight, Nicole?"

"Of course. Do you even have to ask?"

He couldn't breath. He couldn't feel his heart. His skin felt cold and lifeless as he watched Ron slowly dip his head towards the girl ... Pansy Parkinson had turned away from him, but he knew, he knew that she was smirking, grinning at the prospect of watching him walk into the Great Hall naked - caught the leers on Crabbe and Goyle's faces a moment before they wiped their faces clean, and shuddered at the thought of the two walking behind him, admiring his bare-naked ass as he walked into the Great Hall ... and did the only thing left for him to do--

He fainted.

Blaise Zabini looked at the sprawled figure beside his table and shrugged, looked at the laughing Kaze and smiled. He felt eyes on him and turned; saw the smiling eyes of Potter and carefully lifted his glass in a silent salute - turned to look at the center of the room and, with a smirk, shouted, "Get a room, you two!"

His cry was met by laughter, whistles and catcalls - and a blushing Ron and Nicole jumped apart as if stung. Ron turned to him and lifted a fist - the middle finger extended - to further cheers from the crowd, and turned back to the red-faced Nicole.

"Shall we?"

It eventually became part of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts legend - the endless discussion on who had turned redder at Ron's unthinking words, or Nicole's impulsive nod. Suffice it to say that the room had turned to stone for a moment - and it would forever be a source of regret to both Colin Creevey and the Photoman that they'd missed the picture of the century: the sight of Professor Snape and Anne Umansky with their jaws on the floor at the spectacle that their students were making.

The silence was broken by Pat's loud whisper: "What the hell is that all about?"

The responding laughter, cheers and wolf-whistles drowned out Harry's response as he watched his other best friend and their new friend walking towards their table: "I think Ron and Nicole finally chased their dream."

The End