Harry Potter and His New Standards

Chapter 25--Late-Night Flights

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.

*()%()*

Holly had packed some parchment, a couple books, a quill, and ink into her thin, vinyl book bag to prepare herself for a Friday visit of the school library. There were only about five others in there, as most people tended to find better things to do and better places to be Friday nights. But anymore, this majority of students and teachers didn't include Holly Black.

She stood with her hands on her hips, gazing at the binding of all the books in the 'E' section of shelving. Most of the volumes, sorted into this section as their basis was Elvish life, were written about old wars in ancient times, Elf-made tools and other objects, Quenya, and the reason that this race preferred bow-and-arrow/sword work to defend their kin instead of wands.

There was one book on the culture and living habits of these creatures... if you could even consider them creatures. Holly carefully eased the book off the shelf, and as she did so dust formed a cloud in the air in front o her. She shut her eyes and coughed as she closed her hand around the binding and pulled it out the rest of the way, the dust rising like thick steam. She waved a hand to clear the air and walked away, shaking her head. Why had no one checked this book out for so long?

Setting it down on the table next to her homework she'd brought to do as well, she wiped the cover off with her hand, revealing yet another brown, leather-bound book with the title stamped on it in peeling letters. It looked old, like over half the copies in that library, and Holly slid down into her chair to begin looking for what she wanted.

The index included the chapter references for each type of Elf she could imagine... and she was stuck as to which lived nearest her. Treedwellers or Woodelves were her choices--and she picked to turn to page 457 to read up on Woodelves.

Holly had only just started reading when someone clearing their throat interrupted her. She looked up to find Hermione standing on the opposite side of the table. "Can I sit here?" she asked, motioning to the empty chair. Holly nodded and looked back down at her book, pulling it forward and resting it against the edge of the table while it sat on her legs.

Hermione seated herself in the opposite chair, swinging her book bag up onto the table with a loud thump. As usual it was bulging with work, overflowing with parchment. "What are you reading?" she asked, starting to pull the bag's contents out and setting them about on the table.

"Uh--stuff for that History of Magic paper on the troll wars."

"Oh, yeah, I've already done mine. Well, the sloppy copy, anyway. It's not that difficult," Hermione informed her.

"Not for you, I'm sure," Holly muttered, turning a page. Hermione didn't reply, and continued to place her working materials around, taking up nearly half the table. As always it looked like she was attempting to do about five assignments at once. Worse, Hermione wasn't one to hand in opuscules.

Holly had been reading again for only a moment before a familiar feeling washed over her. It was eerie, but common... the feeling you were being watched from behind. But, this time, not only watched--but very closely regarded. Under a microscope, practically.

She couldn't help it--Holly turned her head and looked over her shoulder. There was no one there, just books in their shelves. Holly turned back... and the sensation faded. "Is something wrong?" Hermione asked. She looked at her and shook her head.

"Nope. Nothing." Hermione gave her a careful look before slowly looking back down at whatever she was working on. Holly bit her lip and threw a quick glance of suspicion over her other shoulder. Nothing was there.

Although the feeling was gone, the memory of the sensation was fresh on her--tingling fiercely at the surface. That feeling was a common one, and normally just annoying. But in those few crucial moments, it'd been so real it was almost terrifying. Then again this was the magical world in a troubled time... nothing you did went unnoticed. And, more people knew your secrets than you were aware of.

*()%()*

Her smile was replaced with a frown. "About time you got here," said Cho.

Harry, ironic as the situation was, wasn't wearing his watch. "Really?" he inquired, "Am I late?" This couldn't actually start off on the wrong foot, could it?

Cho pulled her cloak sleeve up a little and checked her watch. "Yes. Well, you would be... in about five minutes."

Instead of being a wet winter, this looked like a white one. It was snowing again--but very lightly. There was no wind, making the weather a more pleasant cool than harsh one. Would this matter, though, when you could be flying around at 150 miles per hour? Probably not.

It wasn't long ago when Harry took up his Firebolt and left the castle, passing the lake and going east. The dark spot against the white background that was Cho had immediately made itself clear, standing stationary against the backdrop of the frost-covered Quidditch stands.

When he'd been close enough, trudging through the deep snow, Cho smiled widely at him. Feeling petty, he realized there were thin lines between 'cute', 'pretty', and 'beautiful'... and through the last couple years Cho had crossed the line from being 'quite pretty' to 'gorgeous'.

Hair pulled back into a half-pony, cheeks brushed pink with cold, dark, shining eyes... he chided himself on noticing the little details, but his sight was formed to do that. He was a Seeker--and although he was supposed to be looking for little, flying, gold balls... Harry couldn't help but notice other things, too.

Dressed in her school-provided cloak, blue and bronze-striped scarf, and black gloves, Cho looked warm--deceiving the color of her cheeks.

"This," she said, "is my new baby." Fondly, Cho patted the broom she was holding, lifting it up for him.

The Cleansweep 50 certainly looked limited-edition and unique... its handle was smooth and polished, and (strangely) a pale, blue color. The tail of the broom, with its twigs pulled together at the tip like most modern broomsticks were for better aerodynamics, blended from blue to pale yellow. It looked light, and fast... a nice edition to the Ravenclaw house team, no doubt.

But, Harry reminded himself, it still wasn't a Firebolt.

"Very nice," he told her, critically examining it.

"Thank you," replied Cho, grinning widely. "Probably the best birthday present I've gotten to date."

Sorry I couldn't have been the one giving it.

"Race you around the castle," she suggested playfully. But, before he could agree or turn her down, Cho had mounted the broom and kicked off, speeding away.

Fast as he could, Harry swung one leg over his own broomstick and hit his feet flat down on the snow, crunch, flying in hopes to meet and beat her.

*()%()*

Holly had gotten out of her chair and gone searching for another book about five times now, Hermione noticed. It didn't look as though she'd get any homework done until she'd pulled out her Potions book and a piece of parchment, starting her assignment. But Holly hadn't written anything for quite a while--instead she'd had her fingers in her hair at the front of her scalp, resting her elbows on the table and staring down at her text.

Hermione finished the final draft of her History of Magic report and blew on the ink to dry it before she rolled up the parchment. "This--is--so--stupid," remarked Holly through gritted teeth. "If you aren't going to give us an assignment that has all the answers in the book--why give us the assignment... at all!?"

Hermione didn't see this as a good time to tell her table-mate that Professor Snape had mentioned all of the answers in class. "I'm not sure, Holly."

Still speaking through her teeth, Holly continued, "We have--one paragraph--in this book that has anything to do with this--stupid--Boil-Curing--Potion." It was apparent she was holding back from using a cauldron-full of profanity. "No one--cares--what the common Boil-Curing Potion--casing--is. MmphrrmmphrrMMMPH!" Not being able to find the answers for any other assignment for any other teacher seemed to get Holly riled up like so. But she, like the rest of Hermione's house-mates, thought that everything Snape did was a ploy to fail all the Gryffindors, and even more-so: annoy the hell out of them.

"Want a Chocolate Frog?" Hermione offered kindly.

"Yeah, uh-huh, that'd be nice," Holly said as nonchalantly as she could under what looked like extreme stress.

"I've only the kind with the cherry filling left."

"Whatever, I'll take it."

For a limited time there were two Famous Witches and Wizards cards in each package (maybe they were trying to get rid of all those extra Morganas and Merlins). Hermione had never been too infatuated with collecting these pentagonal pieces of thin cardboard--and after reading the information about each celebrity and memorizing it, she passed most of them on to either Harry or Ron. She bought them more for the source of a nice treat. Hermione slid the Cherry-Filled Chocolate Frog over to Holly, and she trapped it under her hand.

After writing down what was most likely an educated guess for an answer, Holly pulled the Chocolate Frog towards her. She opened the package, pulled out the sweet, and tapped it with her wand. It melded itself into the form of a Professor Snape with roughly imagined and calculated features (Hermione couldn't help but notice his ears were twice as big and nose twice as long). Chocolate was easy to transfigure, she remembered.

Holly looked at the newly formed candy for a second or two before gingerly lifting it up and biting its head off, cherry filling running down her lower lip and over what was left of her Chocolate Snape. Holly sniggered savagely with her mouth full, wiping her lip.

After swallowing she asked, "You want the rest?"

Hermione passed. "I'm going back up to the dormitory. Do you want to come with? I need to check these books out first..." She motioned to the new pile of volumes at her left. Holly shook her head.

"Thanks for the candy." Hermione stuffed her parchment and personally owned books into her bag.

"Not a problem." She stood up and slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder whilst picking up the new books and balancing them in her arms. "Good luck with your Potions."

Holly gave her a mock two thumbs up, shoving the rest of Chocolate Snape into her mouth. She turned her gaze back to her homework while Hermione spun on her heel and strode toward Madam Pince's desk--a new Gryffindor Tower destination in mind.

*()%()*

Harry had caught up with Cho, and after being cut off three times, won that race. But now they'd slowed their flying pace a lot, torpidly dipping in, out, and around the turrets, towers, and bridges that made up Hogwarts. The patches of snow and frost on each and every rooftop glittered in the light of the torches behind the windows or charmed to remain lit outdoors.

They'd been out there for a long time, sometimes silent--unintentionally playing hide-and-seek around the towers, and other times chatting with each other--flying side-by-side. It was easier to open up when you were outside, high in the air, with no one watching or listening.

"I hear," Cho said, "that on more temperate nights the rooftops are full of people willing to sell things to you for Famous Witches and Wizards cards, Every Flavor Beans, and actual money, if you have some on you."

Harry, who had been flying at night before, nodded in confirmation. "It's true. They'll challenge you to broomstick races, duels, gnome-throwing contests... anything really. Some people will trade you things, others will pay you to do stuff for them... one time I saw Ernie Macmillan out here selling old Playwizard magazines."

Cho gasped.

"Yeah, they said they were his dad's. Although I'm not sure I believe him."

She inquired, "Are most of the people students, or residents of Hogsmeade?"

"Hogsmeade folk, I think," he said. "I've never really paid attention--I spend my time flying in the pitch normally... only flown about the castle a couple times. I've never had anything to pay them anyway." He eased his broom in a circle around the nearest tower, Cho flying by his side.

"The big rumor in Ravenclaw at one time," she said, "was that every Friday night before he had a match your old Quidditch captain, Wood, came out here and bought a--y'know--a whore. Sort of like a pre-game ritual."

"No," said Harry, instinctively preserving the name of his ex-captain who first had him feel the joys of winning the Cup, "normally he was sitting in a corner of the common room, pushing little broomstick-borne figures around on his miniature model of a Quidditch field, muttering to himself. This usually went on into the late hours." He dipped lower in flight. "For Oliver, Quidditch was, and probably still is, sex. He was so passionately in love with the sport he had no time for girls."

"I suppose."

She didn't sound entirely convinced, so he added, "Besides, I heard the same thing about Davies."

"Ick!" Cho shook her head, decidedly not confirming whether the rumor was true. "Hey... come down here with me." She started circling lower, over a section of stone rooftop that was flat versus being slanted.

Harry dove, not being able to resist the temptation of showing off (Cho had done it too!). He landed on the rooftop and dismounted just as she did the same. "Let's sit down."

*()%()*

Ron lifted up his mattress and searched under it. So far he'd collected four Knuts, three Sickles, and a single Galleon. In between his mattresses he now found one Knut and one Sickle--jackpot.

He'd managed to put the date out of his mind for quite a while, until Hermione had come into his dormitory only a while earlier. They talked for only a bit before she said she was in the mood for some hot cocoa. So, obediently Ron left for the kitchens. Hermione wasn't too bad about the prospect of work done by Dobby to get free food, as the manic house-elf was paid for his labor. He came back with two steaming mugs of cocoa (unseen, luckily), and brought them up to his dormitory where Hermione remained waiting.

They drank them, and Ron remained relatively content until she'd come at him with--the scissors. It had been horrible, really. Hermione postulated that he badly needed a haircut... and it was true that it had gotten rather long. But it wasn't lengthy enough to be considered "long, long", so what was the matter? Ron still didn't get it.

But Hermione had said that she didn't want it to grow out like Bill's so he could pull it into a low pony tail ("I would've cut it before then!" he'd protested). Ron had pleaded, he wasn't sure how much, but couldn't manage to tell her that it was his hair and that he could do what he liked with it. She'd snipped it off--inches of it--leaving it short and with a big cowlick in the front.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through it. It was short--really short--and Ron was anything but ashamed about being miffed over it. Who cares if girls worried about their hair? So did he! He had, like, two inches of hair. Two. Inches. He may as well be bald.

Hermione had swept all the cut-off red locks into the dustbin and assured him it looked nice. But, that was the thing--it looked like Hell.

Then she'd reminded him about the date and left. Just like that.

And for an hour since he had been crawling around on his hands and knees, searching every nook and cranny in the dormitory for spare change. The little he had already was going towards Christmas presents... and two tankards of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks wasn't exactly a rare, date-ish sort of thing to do.

There was another Knut underneath Dean's wardrobe.

It just reminded him of how much he hated being poor. It wasn't like he was living in the streets and starving, warming his hands around a trash-fueled fire. It had never been that bad. It was just the second-hand everything that came along with being a Weasley. The newest thing he owned were the dress robes Fred and George had bought him before fifth year--which he hadn't yet dared to put on, not knowing what they must have done to them.

Ron may as well be on his knees like that poor orphaned girl in the book he read for Warlock Literature--Olive Turn. Hermione said it was a steal off of a Muggle novel, but no matter. Sooner or later, when his parents no longer wanted to take care of him, he'd be kneeling on the Malfoy Mansion front steps, begging one of the pointy-faced, rich, blonds, "Please, sir... I want a s'more!"

Ron dropped another Knut on his nightstand before crawling dispiritedly in the opposite direction. Where's a Niffler when I need it?

After Ron's knees and palms started to ache, he sat down on his bed and counted the money. There wasn't near enough to cover a dinner that could even be considered borderline romantic. With his hand he slid the coins into an empty Every Flavor Beans box and sighed.

As much as he wanted this date to go right, so far it didn't look like it was heading that way. It was either cancel the dinner out, or borrow money from Harry.

It looked like Ron had Saturday night free.

*()%()*

Cho sat down on the stone rooftop, crossing one leg over the other and lying her Cleansweep beside her. "C'mon, then."

Truth be told, Harry didn't want to sit down on the freezing cold stone rooftop. But he did, biting back the urge to shout "COLD! COLD! COLLLLLD!" as loud as he could. Instead he drew his knees up a little, resting his forearms on them. Harry kept as little of him touching the stone as possible.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Cho said. Harry followed her gaze forward to see that they were on a ledge facing the lake. It had frozen over, and the glittering frost on it backed by the steep hills and trees heavily coated and drooping under the weight of snow looked like a perfect Christmas backdrop. Then again, nothing at Hogwarts seemed quite real.

"It is," he agreed. They didn't say too much for a while, both half-lost in thought as they stared out at the scenic winter picture presented to them, snow falling in front of their eyes, their own breath screening their vision. "So," he observed, "you're graduating soon."

Cho sighed. "One semester to go," she stated. "It's so surreal--'feels like only two days ago I was under the Sorting Hat." She was quiet for a bit before continuing. "It's I haven't lived, or something."

"How do you figure?"

She thought about this for a while. "I haven't done anything. My parents always tell me, 'these are the best years of your life' and although hearing it gets rather sickening, they're right. So I've attended classes, made some friends, gone to dances and balls, played Quidditch--but that's it really.

"I still haven't been near the forest, or snuck into the Restricted Section at night, or gone to Hogsmeade on day that wasn't a set weekend. And I didn't take the time to talk to many people from other houses, or even the younger students in my own. I guess it's the things you don't do that you end up regretting, not what you do try."

This was very true. He'd done a lot of things--all of the ones Cho had mentioned she hadn't, basically--but there was stuff he wished he'd done, for the well-being of others more than for his own experience. There were so many things Harry could have told the professors over time that would have helped the outcome of the school year. He didn't regret not agreeing to Malfoy's offer to show him around on the Hogwarts Express before first year, but maybe he could have been just a little bit nicer about telling him to piss off, really. Malfoy might have ended up like Colin Creevy, but because the sneering slime ball sensed weakness--not because he idolized Harry, trying to persuade him to join ranks with the Slytherins--but it would save Harry a lot of snide remarks, wouldn't it? To his face, anyway.

And then, there was the one thing he really wished he had done. It wasn't something that would help him live his youth to the fullest, really... just something Harry truly should have thought of at the time.

Back in fourth year, falling through the trick step and losing the Golden Egg. Harry had pulled out his wand, frantically trying to reach the Marauder's Map to clear it. Why, he had wondered, didn't he Summon it? By this time Harry had mastered the art of using Accio, but in his panic he'd left the map out. How could he have been so stupid? If he'd Summoned the map, he would have seen that Moody was actually Crouch. With a story this bizarre, Harry would have definitely ended up turning the map in to Dumbledore (and, most likely, get it back--just like the Invisibility Cloak). Dumbledore would have caught Crouch and questioned him under the influence of Veritaserum.

If he couldn't find the whereabouts of Voldemort and Pettigrew with this, at least if Pettigrew went through with bringing the Dark Lord back to life (to look at it that way) he couldn't have come back stronger. The Triwizard Tournament would have been called off, Cedric would be alive, and they wouldn't be on the brink of war--if all had turned out rightly, that is. All because Harry hadn't Summoned a stupid piece of parchment when stuck in a stairway.

But, would he be sitting there on that ledge with the prettiest girl in seventh year if he'd Summoned the map? Probably not. But, that wasn't the point.

"This probably all sounds really stupid," Cho said, "and I'm sure I'm talking like my mum, but I think I've just let the years when my age title ended with 'teen' slip away unnoticed."

"Don't worry," he told her, "I know exactly what you mean." So Harry had played Quidditch since his first year, been on adventure atop adventure, definitely broke a thousand school rules at least, made a handful of good friends, and had fun in general--but you could never really be satisfied, could you?

Again, they didn't talk for a bit. Cho was the next one to speak, though. "So, do you ever think about what you're going to do after you graduate?"

Harry sighed. Playing Quidditch, like every other person who's ever enjoyed riding a broomstick, or working at the Ministry. There wasn't really much else, it seemed. But had he ever actually considered looking further into one of these occupations? Not at all--they'd only grazed in his mind briefly before he started concentrating on something else.

"I don't think much about the future," he stated, turning to look at her, "it comes soon enough."

"Too right," Cho said, crossing her arms in front of her and scrunching up her shoulders.

Harry reversed the question, and Cho didn't have to think long for her reply. "I've already discussed it with Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore--I'm going to be a teacher aid, sort of, for a while. More or less I'll be apprenticed to Professor Flitwick--who's thinking about retiring in a couple years. It was either him or Professor Snape."

"Snape's thinking about retirement?"

"No," she said, "I'm not sure what it is he's doing."

Harry shifted his shoulders as a cool breeze blew up off the lake for a second, lifting his hair and brushing several snowflakes against his face. "So you'll never really leave Hogwarts, then," he asserted.

"Yes and no," Cho shrugged. "I'll be inside the castle, yes, but I'll be leaving the school as a student, and I can't get that back. That's the best part about Hogwarts, you know."

Harry sighed, looking away. "Well, you'll be my favorite aid, Cho." She snorted, in a most lady-like fashion, and gazed forward. "What are you going to do with your last semester as a pupil, then?" he grilled her.

Cho took a deep breath and exhaled in a long sigh, the used air forming into fog that swirled a bit before disappearing. "I don't know," she averred quietly.

"You could always work for one of the rooftop pimps-"

She grimaced and covered her eyes with one of her gloved hands. Harry started to laugh through the rest of his remark.

"-I heard Prevletz quit her job... she wasn't getting enough profit for her--er--efforts."

"Ewww!" Cho laughed, "Please tell me you're making this up..."

Harry shrugged. "I might be."

"My entire lower half has lost all feeling," she said suddenly.

"Mine too." Harry stood up and extended a hand to Cho. She took it to assist herself in getting to her feet.

"I don't want to go in yet, but I'm chilled down to my very bones," she voiced, flapping her arms a little. "Know anywhere we could stop for some tea and a little warmth?" She bent down and picked up her broom.

"Hagrid's," Harry suggested meekly.

"Hagrid?" she replied, "as in--the gamekeeper?" Cho didn't exactly looked thrilled at the idea. Apparently she hadn't much contact with Hagrid--now, if ever. "Why there?"

"Ah, well, you see," commenced Harry, "unless you have some money and daring enough to sneak into Hogsmeade, there's no place warmer than Hagrid's hut if you're in the mood for tea--considering you don't want to go back in the castle.

"Unless, of course, you want a real adventure and we try stealing something to drink from the Three Broomsticks." He bent his knees to snatch up his Firebolt. "Your choice."

Cho considered this for an instant, before nodding slightly. "Okay, let's go to Hagrid's."

"Alright," attuned Harry, "It'll be worth the short flight--I'm sure. He's an interesting sort of man, Hagrid is."

They clambered onto their broomsticks, legs a bit wobbly. They had been sitting down for quite a while--on solid rock... in the night... that was becoming colder. Kicking off the rooftop, they started to the west--towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut.

*()%()*

"If I had--just one--tear rollin' down your cheek

Maybe--I could--cope

Maybe I'd get some sleep

If I had--just one--moment at your expense

Maybe all my misery--would be well spent

Yeah..."

The common room was emptying out... then again it was nearly 11:00. Friday or not, Holly supposed people were tired. She scanned over the few pieces of parchment tacked up to the bulletin board, reports for missing hats, books, and parcels... Quidditch and Hogsmeade schedules. She started picking a tack out of the corkboard with her fingernails.

"Could you cry a little?

Lie just a little?

Pretend that you're feeling--a little more pain?

I gave, now I'm wanting--something in return

So cry just a little--for me"

Holly had charmed the copy parchment a noticeable shade of lime green. The bold, black lettering that spelt out "PARTY!" as the header had nearly cost her half a bottle of ink, and a very sore wrist.

Under the big heading, Holly had scribbled instructions to the Muggle-borns... write home for your CDs. The music provider of choice was Emodulo--since the chance of finding a cheap in-school band that actually packed talent in its musical punch was slim to none.

The Hogwarts kids--or the Gryffindors, anyway--never seemed to party. The "Hurrah! We Won A Quidditch Match!" celebration she'd witnessed, which was most likely what happened after each game they triumphed in. But that was just a general sitting around, indulging in Hogsmeade goodies, and talking loudly. Occasionally someone, having taken down about a dozen too many butterbeers, would stand on the table and entertain them (according to Parvati and Lavender, anyway, who'd been present at all of these).

"If your love--could be caged

Honey, I would hold the key

And conceal it underneath--the pile of lies you've handed me, yeah"

So it would be next Friday, from eight o' clock to midnight. Holly was confident the majority of the house would show--and hoped dearly that no one trampled over the poor little first and second years.

"And you'd hunt--those lies

They'd be all you'd ever find

That'd be all you'd have to know

For me to be--fine

Yeah"

Holly looked at her poster. It was noticeable enough, certainly. Hopefully McGonagall wouldn't enter the common room to post an announcement any time soon--and all the house-elves and students would keep their peace.

"And you'd cry a little

And die just a little

And maybe I would feel--just a little less pain

I gave, now I'm wanting--something in return

So cry just a little--for me"

She ran her thumb underneath her vinyl bag's strap, where it had been digging into her shoulder. Holly turned on her heel, and was about to start her way toward the portrait hole--Advanced Astronomy requirements in mind, when someone from behind said her name.

She wheeled around to see Brandon standing behind one of the round tables. Immediately Holly adopted her loving tone and pet-name state of mind. He'd come accustomed to the older girl speaking to him in this way by now. "Brandon! My little cherub... why are you still up?"

Although he was used to Holly mirthfully treating him like a three-year-old, he had yet to pluck up the courage to play along. She wished he would though; she wouldn't feel quite so stupid.

Brandon moved around the table and started walking towards her. "I was wondering the same thing about you." Holly was more than thankful he hadn't hit adolescence full on quite yet. His voice had started deepening--or, at least, it had begun to crack and squeak at intervals--but he had yet to become a cocky and self-centered jerk towards her. Or, that's how the rest of the boys in third through fifth year seemed to treat others--but she hadn't spoken much with the rest--only seen it. Then again, being older, you always had an advantage over that.

But Emerson was still skinny and fresh-faced and Holly could easily see straight over his head if he were standing in front of her. "Ah, you see, its not quite my bedtime yet... and I have Astronomy to attend."

"Oh," he said, tilting his chin slightly to look up at her, "you took Advanced? I don't think I'll do that--I'm already sick of normal Astronomy, and I've only had it for about three and a half years."

"Only a year and a half more, not to worry, sweet pea." Holly beckoned him closer to her, and wrapped her arm around his neck and rested it on his shoulder. She started to walk slowly toward the portrait hole. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"

Brandon, who had built up a slight blush, said, "All right, what is it?"

Holly used her free hand to dig into her book bag and pull out seven more lime-green flyers. "I need one of these slid under each door in the boys dormitories. Could you do that for me, cupcake?"

He took the pieces of parchment and Holly released him from underneath her arm. "Party?" he read. "For what? We didn't win a Quidditch match or anything...." Holly rolled her eyes.

"Exactly--we just need to party more."

"Ah." His eyes scanned the paper. "Why should all the Muggle-borns write home for their, er-" he squinted, "CDs?"

"You'll see. Now, could you do that for me?" Brandon nodded. "Great. Thank you, angel." She pushed the portrait forward and had started to climb out of the common room by swinging one leg over the low wall when Brandon said something else.

"Is that it?"

Holly turned and looked at him. "What do you mean, robin egg?"

He looked offended. "All I get is a 'Thank you, angel' and you walk away?" And so the playing along commenced.

She gave him a funny look. "Do you want me to say ''Bye'?"

He puffed out his lower lip. "It would be a start."

Holly sighed and climbed back into the common room (fully, anyway). She bent down a little and pecked the fourth year on the cheek. He turned crimson--but he'd asked for it. "Good-bye, sunshine."

"'Bye," he muttered.

Holly walked out of the common room and closed the frame and painting of the Fat Lady behind her before she continued her mildly sorrowful song, striding along quickly so she wasn't late.

"Give it up, baby--I hear you're doing fine

Nothing's gonna save me

Till see it in your eyes

Some kind of heartache, honey

Give it a try

I don't want pity

I just--want what is... mine

Yeah"

She dug her pass out of her bag and showed the prefects patrolling the corridor when she was about halfway there. They let her pass, and when she turned the corner she finished it off.

"Would you cry a little?

Lie just a little?

Pretend that you're feeling--a little more pain?

I gave, now I'm wanting--something in return

So cry just a little--for me, yeah

Cry just a little--for me, oh whoa

Could you cry--a little--for me?"

Ravenclaws were never late, Holly thought, when she saw that Professor Sinistra and Mandy were already waiting for her in the classroom. Sinistra gave the two girls their assignment and ushered them off to the Astronomy Tower.

*()%()*

Hagrid opened his door to Cho and Harry without any objections--not that Harry had been expecting any. He told the gamekeeper that he and Cho were out flying, looking for a Snitch that Harry had accidentally let out during some practice time and never found. "Two Seekers would do the job better," he'd explained.

Harry wondered whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was getting better and better at making up these stories and excuses.

The hut had been warm, nonetheless, and the two Quidditch captains accepted the heat graciously. Cho looked frostbit, and Harry's face felt a little itchy. They'd left their cloaks, gloves, and scarves hanging near the door, broomsticks leaning nearby, and chosen the two table chairs closest to the fire.

The Puffskeins that had been used in a younger Care of Magical Creatures class earlier that semester had their crate moved inside the hut. Harry and Cho had each picked one out of their crowded living space and played with them. Hagrid said they didn't take well to the chill winter, nor the foot of snow. The spherical and soft fur-balls hummed blissfully, closing their round, deep gold eyes. Feeling genuinely bad for the other Puffskeins that weren't being cuddled and were whimpering in the crates, Harry and Cho traded in their Puffskeins every few minutes.

Intimidated by the half-giant at first, Cho hadn't said much. She sipped her tea quietly and listened to Hagrid and Harry chat casually. But, when Hagrid asked the oh-so-common-for-Hagrid small talk question, ("Does yer fam'ly have any pets?") it was like they became instant friends before Harry's very eyes.

The Changs did, indeed, own animals, and had kept a few magical creatures in their midst for a long time, or so it sounded. He'd become profoundly lost when they started talking about Crups--Cho owned one of these, clearly--and how wizarding law shouldn't require that the end of the tail be removed by a Severing Charm several weeks after birth. Apparently it stole what made the creature unique in its magical ability.

Time passed quickly under the gamekeeper's roof, and when they'd left, Harry proposed another race. "Around the castle. And you get a five-second head start this time," he added.

The wind had picked up, and the specks of snow swirled around them everywhere.

"Okay." Harry was going to tell her when to start flying, but she mounted and kicked off before he could fit in another word.

He climbed onto his Firebolt and started the countdown. "Five... four... three and a half... three... two and a half... two... one and a half... one... a half... a quarter..." Why not give her ten seconds? Harry loved a challenge.

*()%()*

Sleepily, Holly made another dot on her parchment. She bent back down, over her telescope, looking for the next star to plot.

Suddenly Mandy screamed, perking Holly's senses by a reasonable amount. The Ravenclaw stumbled backward, away from her telescope. Before Holly could look away and ask her coequal what was the matter, a huge blur of blue and black blocked her view of the stars momentarily, a wind-whipping roar accompanying its manifestation.

She did the same as Mandy, shrieking and jumping rearward. "What was that?" Mandy asked her.

"I-"

They both gasped as another blur passed the tower, and Holly's eyes could make out what this one was--but only just. She sighed and turned her head to look at Mandy. "Those were our house Seekers," Holly reported happily, a brand new teasing opportunity opening up to her.

*()%()*

Harry prepared to give Cho a dose of her own medicine. When he caught up, he flew around her, cutting her off. She flew beneath him, but he cut her off again.

Over and over Harry steered his broom in her way, until it looked like the next time he would try it she'd plow right through him. So he flattened himself against his Firebolt's handle and bolted forward. The night air was officially freezing, and specks of snow hit his face as he flew at full speed, making it sting mildly in places.

He won again, but not by much.

"You're mean," Cho stated to him, half-laughing, when she stopped in midair next to him.

"Am not!"

"Are too." Before Harry could retort with another 'Am not!' Cho said, "It's freezing! The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees... brrrrr..." She pulled the sleeve of her cloak up and looked down at the silver watch that glittered at her wrist. "I don't believe it..." she muttered.

"What?" Harry tried to see the positions of the hands of her timepiece, but failed. He did see, though, that the face was pearly white.

"It's 11:30!" she exclaimed, looking up at him and dropping the sleeve of her cloak. "Time does fly when you're having fun...." To Harry, that sounded like a good thing coming from Cho.

But then something he hadn't thought of before hit him like a blow to the face. "Oh no..."

"What?" said Cho, looking concerned. "What is it?"

Harry put a hand to his forehead. "Curfew," he told her, "we've missed it by a long shot. How're we to get back in the castle?"

"Oh my." Cho bit her lip. "I have no clue!" She explained that the prefects' next watch shift was in an hour, and that most of them knew Cho didn't have duty on Friday nights. She could get past the Ravenclaw prefects easy, and Harry with the Gryffindors, but the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs normally covered the entrance hall--and there lied their first problem.

"The standard point deduction for being out after curfew is fifty points along with being rewarded a detention. But they'd most likely take my badge if I were caught..." Cho wrung her hands nervously.

"I don't exactly have a clean record to precede me, either," Harry noted glumly.

Cho sucked on her upper lip for a while, eyes darting around. "Er," he tried, "couldn't you just tell all the other prefects you knew I'd be out of bounds tonight and snuck out to turn me in?"

This sounded like a good idea for a minute until Cho stated what he should have thought of before. "No... no, they would have seen me leave." She rubbed one of her temples with her fingertips for some time, apparently thinking hard. "I think I'm forgetting something," she mumbled.

Harry was pretty sure he knew what Cho was forgetting. "Let's just go," he said. Cho sighed.

"Okay." They landed on the front steps, dismounted, and looked at the big oak doors. "Just follow me, alright?" Harry nodded. She carefully pushed one of the doors open and slid in sideways, holding her Cleansweep close. Harry snuck in after her, cautiously closing the door behind him.

They dove behind the nearest house point hourglass, which happened to be Hufflepuff. Six prefects stalked the entrance hall. It seemed that none of them noticed two broomstick-carrying students had just slipped in through the main doors. "Tell me when none of them are looking directly our way," Cho whispered quickly. Harry nodded and peered around the hourglass. He could see only four prefects, evenly divided between Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. The Slytherins had their backs to them, and the two Hufflepuffs were on the other side of the hall, looking to the side. All four held the Visibility Lanterns, as they had been dubbed.

"Clear," Harry whispered back. Cho jerked her head to the right, signaling him to follow. She peered around the side of the hourglass for a second before scuttling in that direction in her best duck-walk. Harry imitated her, lifting his Firebolt off the floor, finding himself behind the Ravenclaw hourglass. Cho moved around him so she was at his left, and drew out her wand. She pointed, and the entrance doors blasted open as though they were forced by the heavy blow of the rage of a very great sorcerer. The wind whistled loudly, drowning out almost all other sound.

Harry and Cho moved around the hourglass a little, to be sure they were out of view. The four visible prefects wheeled around, hurrying towards the doors and speaking to one another.

"What's going on?" asked one Slytherin.

"I don't know..." the first Hufflepuff prefect said.

"There's someone around here," added the next.

"No kidding, Perks," snapped Slytherin number two. They started forcing the doors shut (or trying, anyway... as it looked like Cho's spell had put the hinges out of action) after setting down their lanterns. The other two prefects appeared in doorways on either side of the marble staircase.

Cho aimed again and muttered, "Petrificus Totalus". The full Body-Bind hit the nearer prefect, the Slytherin, and she fell flat on her back. A metallic clang echoed through the hall as the lantern hit the ground, although it seemed that Harry, Cho, and Hufflepuff prefect number three were the only ones who heard it. Sadly, though, the lantern didn't break. And, being the honest, loyal kind their house was known for, the new Hufflepuff prefect started heading in that direction, to check on what happened to their compeer. Cho pointed her wand and subjected this prefect to the full Body-Bind as well. All limbs snapped together and expression frozen, this one fell face forward... and Harry flinched. Ouch.

At this point Harry would have started to doubt Cho's innocence and perfect record if she had been someone else. A true Ravenclaw, this plan was probably only just forming in her mind as the seconds ticked away and it was brilliant regardless. Cho was like Hermione in that way--whether her actions were spur of the moment or not, it all seemed fastidiously planned.

But, prefects (for being the in the top two of their year and managing to maintain clean records) were thick sometimes. The four that had originally been visible were all working on shutting the doors when at least one of them should have started their search. Either way, it looked like Cho and Harry were going to win this battle.

"You know that one?" she whispered to Harry. He nodded. "When these four finish shutting the door and start walking away, I'll get the ones in the rear first, then you hit whoever's left. Got it?" He nodded again.

The remaining prefects had their wands out, and were guiding the doors shut with magic. When the entrance had been closed the prefects turned and started walking forward, faces set and wands out. Hermione picked off the two that ended up in the back of the splitting procession. Following directions, Harry used his wand to bind the other two.

Cho and Harry straightened up and started out of the entrance hall, careful to walk so the prefects' eyes that remained moving and seeing wouldn't look upon them. "Why not a Stunning Spell?" Harry asked her quietly as they ascended the marble steps.

"Because," Cho explained, "like everything else--Filch is trying to update the castle and all of its rule-enforcers against all forms of meddlers. The pins we wear are getting new protection charms applied. So far it reflects Stunning Spells... but not the full Body-Bind." Harry nodded in comprehension as they started towards the Ravenclaw residence part of the castle. "But," she added, "that one's next on the list, so don't get any ideas."

Harry smirked and continued to follow her.

Having Cho along was like having the Marauder's Map, in a certain respect. She knew each hallway to avoid, and how to get around it. She seemed to be leading him through every corridor she could think of that wasn't being watched.

When they finally came to a hallway being stalked, she already had a scheme in mind. Cho held a finger to her lips and carefully walked near the corner of the corridor, wand drawn. "Fumificum Galbinus." A narrow beam of white light ricocheted from wall to wall, floor to ceiling down the corridor.

Cho wrapped her fingers around Harry's wrist, and told him to hold his breath. Without thought he did so, and in a split-second the white light had burst into a green mass of smog. Cho dragged him into it at a run, and he followed, hearing the prefects coughing out failed incantations, the light of their Visibility Lanterns blocked by the smoke.

They ran a few more corridors, Harry feeling odd not being in the lead suddenly, until they stopped at the bottom of a narrow stairway, half-breathless. "I never saw the use of that spell," Cho panted, "until I found out what it did when pointed at an angle." She clutched her Cleansweep for support--both broomsticks were becoming more and more of a burden to carry--they were hot enough wearing their cloaks. "Someone used that one on me earlier this week and got away." Cho put a hand to her throat and cleared it. "I learned it's rather effective."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I see that." He took off his gloves and slipped them in his pocket. Next Harry loosened his scarf--he could feel the back and sides of his neck were wet with perspiration.

They grinned at each other for a moment, success was nearly theirs, until a loud meowing became audible. They turned their heads in sync to see Mrs. Norris--all four legs in splints and bandaged.

She looked at the pair at the bottom of the staircase and narrowed her lamp-like eyes. With a low hiss, Mrs. Norris started down the stairs. Damn. But she hadn't even gone two steps down before losing her balance and starting to roll, meowing loudly all the way.

If it had been any other cat, once again Harry would have felt bad. Mrs. Norris landed on the stone floor with a thump, and meowed in pain as she attempted to get back on her feet and failed utterly.

Cho did what Harry was using all his will to hold back from--and laughed. With reflex, Harry quickly covered her mouth with one of his hands to stifle the noise and led her away to a nearby door. "Alohomora!" he hissed. He'd thought it was a classroom--but it ended up being a broom closet.

Harry shut the door, tossing his broomstick to the side, and immediately everything was thrown into darkness. He couldn't even see the shine of Cho's eyes, and had no idea where the walls were. Harry put one hand behind her back instinctively. "You need to keep quiet," he told her, finally seizing his moment to dish out the directions. Harry whispered so quietly he could hardly hear himself, but he kept close to her ear. "Filch will be here any second. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Okay?" He could feel Cho's nod behind his hand.

Slowly he released her, and she did as asked. Harry wrapped two hands around the door handle and peered through the crack in the door. He could see Mrs. Norris struggling on the ground, whining and hissing loudly, and it wasn't long until Filch did, indeed, show up. He was wearing his headband of Visibility Lights, holding his huge lantern aloft. "Mrs. Norris!" he croaked. Filch set down his lantern and scrambled towards his cat on his knees. "Mrs. Norris! Are you hurt, my sweet? Ohh, poor little poopsie..."

Cho, once again, acting on both her part and Harry's, snorted loudly. Quickly Harry released one hand from the door handle and clapped over her mouth once more, accidentally running her into the shelves. The closet was a lot smaller than he thought.

Whatever was on this side of the room rattled loudly, causing him to hiss with a sharp intake of breath. Harry's eyes had started to adjust to the darkness by now, and he pulled his hand away from Cho, giving her the most apologetic look he could muster as she clapped her own hands over her lips, eyes glinting wide and worried. She wasn't laughing anymore.

Harry put his eye to the crack between the door and the wall again to see Filch staring triumphantly at the closet door. "Oh, shit," Harry exhaled through his teeth, clamping both hands onto the handle again and holding tight. He watched long enough to see the caretaker stand up, heading in that direction, a wand in hand.

He'd never seen Filch with a wand before--ever--and although he didn't want to believe it, Kwikspell must have actually worked. He pulled his face away from the door and glanced at Cho, who was beginning to look scared. "It's okay," he whispered, "don't worry."

Harry had no clue why he was saying this--this would probably be the right time to commence in worrying. The handle rattled as Filch tried opening it, but Harry held tight, not allowing the sweat forming on his palms make him lose grip. An unlocking charm was muttered from the other side of the door, and still Filch had no success in pulling the port open.

Suddenly the handle began to glow a yellow that deepened into orange. It was getting hot. Harry felt the boils rise on his palms and fingers immediately, and he let go. Backing against Cho he drew out his wand. The handle began glowing red, then faded. He was going to chance grabbing on again, but it hurt just to hold his wand, which he gripped with only his fingertips as they seemed to be the only part of the inside of his hand that weren't throbbing. Besides that, Harry knew that just because something wasn't glowing red didn't mean that it was no longer hot.

The door swung open, the little closet filled with the blue light of the Visibility Lights wrapped around his head. He looked at Harry, but before he could do a thing Cho had slipped out from behind him and attacked from the front.

It happened so fast that he'd only just looked at his Ravenclaw compeer as Filch hit the floor in a crumpled heap, balding head bleeding slightly. She was holding her broomstick--tail end forward. "What did you do?" Harry asked her, impressed.

Looking shocked at her own action, Cho blinked a couple times. "Er..." she shook her head, as though pulling herself out of a trance. She took a couple deep breaths--looking how Hermione had when accompanying Harry and Ron back in third year in Disarming and knocking Snape senseless. "Filch is protected by all the blocking charms you could think of." She pointed to a pin on his robe, much like one given to a prefect, but circular and black. "So, I figured the best way to get rid of him would be the old-fashioned way... hitting him with a broomstick."

Harry saw a few specks of blood on the metal part of Cho's Cleansweep that kept the twigs of the tail attached to the shaft. "It worked, I guess," she added softly. Harry picked up his own broom and gave her an incredulous look.

"Nice one," he told her, after recovering from the initial shock of knowing that Cho Chang just knocked a member of the staff out cold with her broom. "I think that's now a lucky broomstick. You'll never lose another match!"

She laughed nervously. "I can only hope."

Harry grabbed his Firebolt, a sharp pain shooting through his hand, and inclined his head. "Let's go."

They stepped over the motionless body of the caretaker and moved around Mrs. Norris who was also on the floor.

Hurrying up the stairs and down the next corridor, Cho and Harry were slightly nervous that one of their victims would be revived and come in that direction. They headed down another hallway, a set of hidden stairs, and around a corner. Finally Cho, in the lead again, stopped and turned to him. "I can take it from here. There are only Ravenclaw prefects assigned to these next couple corridors--can you get to Gryffindor all right?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Most likely." He regarded her for a moment. "I get the feeling you've done this before."

"Done what?"

"Snuck around after hours," he clarified, watching Cho closely. She smirked criminally and looked down at the floor. "You have!" he whispered, smiling widely.

"Once--in fourth year..." she admitted, "I was caught, though."

"Thus the reason you aren't Head Girl?" deduced Harry. She blushed slightly.

"If you want to look at it that way," she mumbled as humbly as she could. Harry snickered to himself. After a moment Cho said, "We should do that again sometime. I had fun. Flying, I mean."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "We should. Maybe with a plan to get back through the castle, though." She smiled.

"Maybe. You'd better let me ride that broom next time though," she insisted. Cho loosened her scarf and smoothed a few stray hairs away from her face. With all the flying and running, her half-pony had started falling out of place.

"Moving fast, aren't we?"

She didn't catch the joke, surprisingly. Then again, it was late at night. She would realize the pun later, though. "I can handle a Firebolt, I'm sure."

"Okay." What usually happened after dates, again? He hesitated, considering it, but turned the idea down. Harry wasn't sure if it was his nerve failing him, or just better judgment on what had been going on the weeks previous. "Er..." he fought down the blush.

"Thanks for the--well--thanks for the night," she said.

"You're welcome. It was fun." Harry only just realized what a lame word 'fun' was. "Even putting your prefect record in peril?"

"It was sort of a rush," Cho confessed, "and we got away with it--didn't we?"

"Glad to help you embark on a miniature adventure before you graduate," Harry said. "Because, you know, we could have just had Hagrid bring us back."

Cho's expression went blank, and her mouth fell slightly open. She made a frustrated noise. "I knew I was forgetting something! Ugh!" She held her forehead with one hand. Still looking down, she added, "Hold on..."

Harry raised his eyebrows innocently as she looked back up at him, arm falling to her side, hand resting on her hip. "You knew that the whole time, didn't you?" she assumed, eyes narrowed.

He looked away, rocking back and forth on his feet, and shoved one of his hands in his cloak pocket. "No..."

"You did, too!" she asserted, looking mildly shocked. "You did!" Harry glanced at her sideways, the corners of his mouth twitching convulsively. Cho made a noise that would be classified as a mix of anger, shock, and frustration.

"Well you said you wanted adventure... I figured we best start out small," he defied her, sounding as guileless as he could.

Cho shook her head. "I can't believe you."

"Is that a good thing?"

She started to say something else, and again Harry's nerve failed him. He started to take off his Gryffindor scarf, bunching it up and sticking it in his pocket. Harry put his gloves back on and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and tightened it. "'Night, Cho," he cut her off.

He swung one leg over his Firebolt, all other traces saying he was most definitely Harry Potter hidden. "What are you-?"

Harry kicked off, bent low, and started flying in the direction of Gryffindor tower, moving much faster than any prefect could use a spell. It worked a lot better instead of playing Mission: Impossible.

*()%()*

Hermione had let him into the common room (she had duty on the seventh floor) without asking many questions.

Harry pulled open his dormitory door. The curtains of three of the four-posters were drawn shut, and Neville's snores filled the space. A single lamp lit the dormitory. Ron was sitting on his bed, legs hanging off the end, elbows on his knees, looking into an empty box of Every Flavor Beans.

Ron glanced up after a while, and by this time Harry had stripped off his cloak and gloves and was moving towards his trunk with his Firebolt to tuck it away. "Where have you been?"

He didn't sound like the happiest person around. "Flying," paraphrased Harry.

"Isn't it a little late?" Ron continued. "I mean..." he glanced at his watch, "twelve bells."

"It's nice out." There was a pause as they both listened to the wind howling outside, and Ron raised his eyebrows. "It was nice out."

"Two hours ago," elaborated Ron quietly.

"I ran into some problems getting back--lost track of time." Harry pulled off his Weasley sweater that he'd put on over a T-shirt earlier.

"Ah." Ron nodded before averting his eyes and looking back into the Every Flavor Bean box. Harry decided to change the subject while he still could. "You cut your hair," he observed vaguely.

"Hermione did," he deadpanned in return, lightly touching the much shorter red mop.

"Oh. Er--what's in the box?" Ron held it out to him, and Harry walked forward, grabbing it heedfully with his fingertips. He peered inside the white box, and scattered across the bottom were a few Sickles and Knuts along with a single Galleon.

"Date money," he told Harry, not looking at him.

He looked down into the box, counting it. There wasn't near enough, unless Ron was planning on two drinks at the Three Broomsticks. Every time Harry got a reminder that the Weasleys were poor, his heart got a little bit heavier. "I have more," announced Ron, "It's just... I wanted to use it for Christmas gifts, y'know? I'd been saving up."

Harry didn't respond right away, and instead just looked at the coins. Why did all the Weasleys--Ron the worst--have to be so damn obstinate? But, Harry shouldn't talk--he was just as bad. He sighed, and figured the offer would be worth a try. "I'll pay for the date."

"No..." Ron protested weakly. Harry strode back over to his trunk and opened it, the insides of his hands still sore. He dug for his moneybag, and found it. He dumped half of it out onto his bedspread. Harry moved the coins around with his fingertips, roughly counting out the number of Galleons, and about how much that would buy. He picked out a few Sickles and carefully swept them all into his palm. The cool metal felt nice on his blisters, actually.

"Look," Ron stressed, "I'll just tell her we'll have to do it another time...."

"You don't want to do that," Harry said quietly, standing up. "I know you don't. Just take the money and remember you owe me one."

They argued quietly for a while until Harry was slowly moving towards threatening him, which was ridiculous considering he was trying to give him money--not take money away.

Ron accepted in the end, and before he could ask Harry more about where he was that night and why--Harry changed into his pajamas and crawled into the warmth of his bed.

He shut his eyes, the image of Cho--all dark eyes, straight black hair, and pink-tinted cheeks--tattooed against the backs of his eyelids.

*()%()*

Ron had dozed on and off, but really sleeping was out of the question that night. He'd been carefully plotting out he and Hermione's date for the next day--or that day, if you wanted to look at it like so. Instead of using the Floo network (and getting all dirty), they would get the cloak from Ginny's room and sneak out of the castle, and under it travel the route to Hogsmeade.

He'd take her to the Merrow Cave, a fancier sort of place versus the Three Broomsticks. Fred and George had said that the Merrow Cave could be either full of Hogwarts students or people in their mid-fifties... and it all depended on who was performing. But Ron remembered Dean reading something about The Mokes performing sometime soon... and even if Hermione probably wouldn't like it too much--there had to be something in it for himself, right?

As long as it wasn't a captivating speech made by Cassandra Vablatsky, he'd stay in the restaurant.

Ron had been done with planning the date for a long time now, though... and he wanted rest. He lay there for at least half an hour more, angrily wishing he could just fall asleep. It had to be two o'clock in the morning, at the earliest.

Frustrated, he pushed the covers off and swung his legs over the bed. The stone floor was cold on his bare feet, and he groped around for a pair of socks. He found a couple--and although they weren't the same style, they were both white and that's all that mattered. He pulled them on, failing to stifle a loud yawn.

Rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, Ron stood up and walked towards the dormitory door, and upon reaching it pushed it open. When the torchlight met his eyes, he became more alert--and this probably wasn't a good thing.

He guided himself down the spiral stairs, opened the door at the bottom, and entered the common room.

The fire was sparking and glowing a brilliant orange, recently stirred and rekindled. It didn't take long for Ron to find who had tended the fire--a dark head was bent over in an armchair near the fireplace. Holly.

She had her feet, bare, resting on the designated Wizard Chess Table in front of her with her arms supported on her knees--a book in her hands. Holly had seen him come in; her eyes had fixed on him after a short juncture. She looked at him through a pair of glasses with no frames, just rounded-rectangular lenses. Ron wondered whether she knew what time it was.

"Hi there," he said.

"Hey," Holly replied, switching her gaze and looking back down at the book.

She'd gotten better, Ron realized. She spoke to him a little, now. By Christmas he hoped to be friends on loosened terms, at least. If that didn't work--Quidditch off season wasn't over in too long. "What are you doing?" he asked. He sat down in the opposite chair, which he realized he hadn't sat in often. She was in his chair--or the one he sat in when he played wizard chess at the table. Looked like he was on the losing end of this one.

"Fornicating," Holly reported. So she talked to him--but the sarcasm was thicker. Maybe that was her way of holding back from being nasty to him but getting her point across.

"Sounds fun," he replied, sitting down in the armchair opposite.

"It is," she said, turning a page.

"What're you reading?" Holly closed the book over her index finger and turned it over to examine the cover.

"Tolkien. Hermione insists that he had some sort of contact with the magical world to be so accurate with certain things in his fiction--such as the giant spiders, trolls, and whatnot." She opened the book again. "I just think it was a series of lucky guesses."

"Oh." He paused for a second. "Is it a good book?"

Holly shrugged. "I've read better. She says this one is the most boring of the four, though. So after she shoved it in my face, I figured I may as well get to it. I'm on page 278."

"Euh--cool."

Holly read on, silently, and Ron looked around the common room. He wanted a wave of sleepiness to wash over him so he could stumble back up the stairs and fall into a deep slumber behind the curtains of his four-poster and sleep in until late Saturday morning.

After ten minutes of dead air, at least (she was pretending he wasn't there, presumably), Ron vaguely noticed Holly was still wearing jeans and a pullover. He saw a pair of white trainers on the floor next to her chair, socks stuffed into them. Ron absently regarded her for a while before, upon noticing, Holly looked back up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Couldn't she stop being mad at him completely? He felt bad, yes, especially when he caught her tearing her eyes away from him and biting the inside of her cheeks occasionally. Ron didn't even know why, exactly, he'd been so sure about Hermione at the time. And had he really needed to tell Holly that he was--switching over? She had the right to be miffed, perhaps.

But he deserved a little more credit. He'd been honest, at least, and hadn't been mean while going about doing it. Ron even offered her a promise on his part, anything that she thought he should swear on doing for her benefit--and Holly had messed that one up.

So she didn't know about he and Hermione's confirmed relationship--but she hadn't asked, so he hadn't lied about anything either.

She hadn't even said anything about his hair. He tried not to think about that... or anything Holly-related. And it wasn't that he enjoyed it, but he always did.

He was close enough to notice something now. Her eyes, without the contacts, were blue--he already knew that. The iris he'd already seen--gray-blue with a thin line of yellow around the pupil that branched out here and there like rays of light--shown from her left eye. But, oddly, the other was solid, dark blue. He couldn't make out a single pattern of different tints, except for one line like a crack in the ground--brown.

"Your eyes are different colors," he said.

Holly went visibly whiter. "What?"

"This one," he pointed to her right eye, "is darker than the other one. And it has a little brown in it." He dropped his arm. "The other one is lighter, more grayish, with some yellow."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Holly carefully, averting her eyes and reading again. Ron would have said something else, if he hadn't caught the vibe that Holly didn't want to talk about her eyes at the time. So he remained silent, and so did she.

It wasn't long, though, before he looked back up at her to see she'd fallen asleep, page in her book marked with two limp fingers. Her head was rested against her other hand, as her arm was half-erect, elbow on the armrest.

Holly looked, like anyone else would, helpless and innocent in slumber. None of her schizophrenic personality was visible on the surface now, if ever... and her sleep didn't look disturbed.

If anyone had disparate identities, it was her. The cause was, most likely, a peak of hormonal imbalances because of adolescence (he hoped). Either that or she was a personality leech, and had been around too many different people in her short lifetime. Holly was both honest and secretive; clumsy and stealthy; loving and back-talking; smart and arrogant; patient and wild tempered; caring and sharply sarcastic. Sometimes she was all hysteric laughter and unsuppressed smiles and other times she was tear-filled eyes and half-controlled anger.

Only a couple weeks earlier she'd been consistent with her good side--but now Holly was back to wavering, and he was quite aware that most signs pointed that it was his fault.

Lucky Ron.

He watched her sleep for a little while before standing up, feeling himself becoming drowsy once more. He pulled the book from her weak grasp and bent over the corner of the page to mark it for her. Ron would feel bad leaving her asleep in the armchair only to be awoken by the early birds of Gryffindor house in a few hours. He picked up her white shoes and set them in her lap.

So he put one arm underneath her knees, slipped the other around her back, and lifted Holly up. Sad to say, he was used to this by now. Her weight was getting familiar--although she felt a little lighter this time around. Holly had been hitting the books hard lately, though, wasting no time at three meals a day and instead narrowing it down to two.

Ron nudged Holly so her head drooped forward instead of leaning way back, which looked painful. It took talent, coordination, and a little practice earlier that year--but he managed to bear the burden up the spiraling staircase leading to the sixth year girls' dormitory which, like his, was at the very top of the tower.

Bending his knees slightly he used his freer hand to turn the handle, and slowly opened the door with his shoulder. The other girls were fast asleep, thankfully, and Ron tiptoed inside. Finding the empty four-poster he pulled back the blankets and carefully laid Holly's motionless form down. She stirred a little, but remained asleep. He set her trainers with the socks stuffed into them on the floor.

Ron pulled the covers over her, up to her shoulders. He carefully slipped off Holly's glasses, trying to avoid getting them tangled in her hair. Successful, Ron set them and the book she was reading down on her bedside table. He drew her curtains shut and walked out, thinking little of it.

*()%()*

There was a knock at the door.

Seamus and Neville were the only ones who had left the dormitory--Dean, Ron, and Harry were all sitting around their room. Ron was particularly tired, claiming he had gotten little sleep the night before. Dean, on the other hand, was practically bouncing off the walls whilst coming up with theories as to what Ron was doing the night before.

So Dean was the one who pushed the door open, Harry and Ron watching and waiting to see who was on the other side.

Retaining his flirtatious romantic way of speaking to all the girls Dean knew with an exception of the Slytherins and professors--he pushed the door open all the way and greeted, "'Morning, beautiful."

Holly stepped into the dormitory and grinned. "How's it goin', Dean?" Once before she'd made the mistake to ask, "How's it hangin'?" and Dean piped, "It was hanging nicely up until the point I set eyes on you." Holly had ignored the question ever since. It was possible she'd asked on the glide of a joke but hadn't expected him to catch the equivoque. Needless to say she'd never underestimated Dean's head-in-the-gutter hearing again.

"Better with every moment you shine daylight on my life, darling," he said. Holly rolled her eyes, but even from there Harry could see her satisfied smirk. "Are you a herald of pleasant news?"

Holly glanced around at Harry and Ron before answering. "Yes and no. You see, Hermione gave me a Cherry-Filled Chocolate Frog yesterday-"

"I like those," Dean interjected.

"-and there's two Famous Witches and Wizards cards in each pack for a little while."

"Right," said Harry, "so?"

"Le'me finish!" Holly fired back before resuming her even tone. "So... there's a new edition out on the market, and I am thrilled to quiz you on the identity of this particular famous witch or wizard." A wicked glint flashed in her eyes before she looked down at the card she was holding. She began reeling off the words on the back.

"Admired by many, (somebody) is famous for his young triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and survival of the Killing Curse in 1981...."

Harry shut his eyes. "Oh, God..."

Dean started to snigger and Ron glanced over at Harry, grinning. Holly continued reading in her television show announcer manner.

"Named one of the Hogwarts Champions during the Triwizard Tournament in 1994, he came out the winner of first prize. Among other accomplishments, (somebody) has preserved the well-being of our world by keeping the Philosopher's Stone out of dangerous hands, defeated a basilisk, and can speak Parseltongue. (Somebody) enjoys Quidditch, playing the position of Seeker on his house team."

Holly finished her narrative, gazing around at the three boys with an expectant look. "Not exactly subtle in stating the victories, huh?" She shook her head slowly. "Well?"

Dean, who was on the verge of cracking up, pointed vaguely at Harry. Holly showed the face of the card, waving it around a little bit. A moving picture of himself, messy hair, glasses and all, stared back. Holly laughed.

HARRY POTTER

Current Hogwarts Student