Just a Goodnight Kiss

CHAPTER THREE

Later that night, when Harry and Ron were alone in their dormitory (Seamus, Dean, and Neville were all in the common room playing a game of Exploding Snaps), Harry asked the question that had been on his mind ever since they had all agreed to attend the ball.

"So, who are you going to ask to the ball?" he blurted out, rather tactlessly.

Ron, who had had one leg in the hole of his pajama pants, looked up at Harry and put his other foot into the same hole and proceeded to lose his balance and tip over dangerously before catching himself. He carefully extracted his trespassing leg and put it into the correct hole before looking at Harry again.

"Dunno," he said, looking away. Harry knew immediately that he was lying. "Haven't really thought about it."

"Well think about it now," said Harry, fishing his own pajamas out of the bottom of his trunk.

Harry respectfully looked away, giving Ron some privacy as he contemplated the subject.

"I dunno. Maybe Padma will agree to go with me again," he said doubtfully.

When he was sure Ron wasn't looking, Harry shook his head and smiled to himself. "Yeah, maybe," he said. He knew there was not a chance in the world that Padma would agree to go to another ball with Ron.

"What about you? Thinking of taking Parvati again?" Ron asked.

"Nah. I don't get on with her very well," said Harry.

"So who then?"

"I haven't really thought about it actually," he said truthfully.

"Well, think about it now!" Ron whined, mimicking him.

Harry threw his pillow at him.

Ron caught it, sat down on his bed, and placed the pillow in his lap. "Fine. I'll help you."

"Lavender?"

Harry thought for a moment. She was pretty but, "I think her and Seamus have a thing for each other. Plus, she's a clone of Parvati, we wouldn't get on."

"Picky, picky, picky...," Ron tutted. "Okay. How about...," he thought for a moment. "Luna?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at him.

"Didn't think so. Just a mate, right? Right. Hmm.... Susan? Hannah?"

Harry shrugged. They were nice girls, but definitely not anyone he could imagine sharing a romantic moment with.

"I know!" exclaimed Ron. "She's perfect for you!" he said excitedly.

"Who?" said Harry curiously.

"Pansy Parkinson!"

Harry dove over to Ron's bed and grabbed his pillow back and went on to beat him over the head with it repeatedly.

Ron was trying to catch his breath as he laughed and tried to get away from Harry's beating.

He rolled off the other side of the bed and said, "What's the matter Harry? I thought you liked pugs."

Harry awoke in the middle of the night and glanced frantically around the room. All his roommates were asleep in their beds, drapes drawn closed.

Harry shivered. He must have kicked off his bed covers in the midst of his nightmare.

His nightmare was a real nightmare, he had witnessed Sirius' body fall through the veil, felt Lupin's vice-like grip on his arm, and felt himself desperately trying to break free, to run to his godfather, his brother, his best friend. But in his nightmare, Harry had succeeded, he had pried himself away from Lupin and had dove headfirst into the archway after Sirius, only to find himself all alone, in total and complete darkness. The whole world was black, everything wiped off the face of the earth. Harry was simply floating around in a great black hole. Perhaps what made it such a terrible nightmare was the fact that before he had passed through the black curtain, Harry was sure that if he just pulled back that veil, he would find Sirius and drag him back out. In his dream, however, Harry had screamed, bellowed, and then whispered Sirius' name, just to hear his own voice bounce back and hit him cold in the face, vibrating off the nonexistent walls of his vortex of hell.

Harry pressed his cool hands to his face to clear his head and walked over to the water pitcher. He took a swig and placed it back on the windowsill.

He turned around to look at his bed, but it did not look comforting any more. He didn't want to go back to sleep, he didn't think he could anyway.

Instead he grabbed his night robe, slipped it on, poured himself a glass of water and carried it down to the common room.

He found it deserted and the fire almost dead. He light it again with his wand and gazed into it, not really seeing it.

Sirius' head had appeared in this very fire to talk to him just last year, shaking his hair out of his face and ready to support Harry's new, illegal, ambition. He had even given him suggestions for places in which to hold the secret meetings, had said he was just like his father.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It wasn't fair. Why did Voldemort have to kill his parents? Why couldn't he have marked Neville as his equal? he thought selfishly. Sometimes he wished that Voldemort had succeeded in killing him when he was a baby. Then he could live in Heaven with his parents, and Sirius, when he joined them.

Harry's heart felt heavy in his chest as his mind once again dwelled on his godfather's handsome, wasted face. Harry opened his eyes again, looking at the fire, wishing with all his heart that Sirius would appear there, and reach out and take hold of Harry's hand and drag him down into the fire with him, into the black space that reached out forever, filling every corner of Harry's mind. Then, at least, he wouldn't be alone...