Fragmented Miracle

31.12. At 5 p.m.

Fred and George stumble inside their dormitory, laughing. The room is empty, and the twilight and wet snow outside seem to frown at their reckless behaviour. There are speckles of gold and fire in the air.

"No...way!" George gasps between his fits of laughter. "No fucking WAY!" He is flushed from head to toe and Fred feels likewise. The thing they did is more stupid than anyone could imagine.

"I know," Fred laughs. "I mean, did you see..."

Both collapse on the bed closest to the door. George lies on his back staring at the glittering canopy of the blood-red bed curtains. Everything should seem more serious.

"If they catch us we'll be out of here before we can say 'just joking'."

"That would be nothing compared to what mum would do." Fred's hands are suddenly shaking. George clasps them between his own, but doesn't look his brother in the eyes.

The Gryffindor common room is quiet downstairs. Everyone is either feeling uncomfortable or getting ready for the New Year's party. Ron was dozing off in an armchair when Fred and George ran past him. His expression was very unconcerned and waiting. There would be much happening that night. Not that anyone knows this for certain.

At 5.30 p.m.

Cho's room floor is scattered with transfigured dresses and underwear. Cho, herself, is standing in front of her mirror and touching Ginny's breasts. Neither of them knows how they ended in this position. Ginny has never been in Ravenclaw common room or dormitories before, and it seems very peculiar to her that anyone could just march in there. Assuming that they had a Ravenclaw friend with them, of course.

The air is filled with anticipation. Ginny suspects that Cho will do something funny sooner or later. It's in the way she looks at her.

"I know a perfect dress for you," Cho whispers and goes over to her wardrobe, leaving Ginny standing in front of the mirror, looking at her own reflection, flooded with thousands of new sensations.

"Are you up for a little game?"

Cho pulls something made of black fabric out of the wardrobe. Ginny stares at it and wonders what Cho is talking about. When Cho spreads the cloth on her bed it becomes clear that it's... just a dress. There is something about the way the black colour sparkles, however, that causes Ginny to shiver and raise her arms to cover her skinny and undeveloped body.

"You will go to the party without any underwear..."

"In that?"

Cho smiles. "Kind of. I need to do something to it first." And she waves her wand. Ginny ogles it, transfixed. Cho's wand looks obscene in her opinion - it's all straight and pointy, and Ginny doesn't even know why she thinks of it in that way.

"All ready for you, pretty." Cho lifts the dress for Ginny to see. "It's quite stylish, isn't it?"

Ginny doesn't like that Cho's smile doesn't reach her eyes.

At 6 p.m.

Hermione wakes up from a very pleasant dream. She doesn't remember it. Frankly, she never remembers her dreams, but she feels the dull and tickly sensation that the dream has left in her. Hermione yawns and stretches her arms above her head. She feels very light and happy. There is enough time to take a hot shower before fixing her hair to look appropriate - sleek, shiny and boring.

Ron asked her to go with him in a very blushing manner, and Hermione thinks about it with approaching fondness. Harry would be jealous of her way of handling things.

It's then that she sees herself in the mirror opposite Parvati's unmade bed. She stares. A high pitch scream escapes from her mouth.

It seems to go on forever. After a few minutes Hermione realizes she's not screaming anymore, but rather sobbing and gasping. It's very lucky she's alone in the room, she thinks ironically. Maybe it's her down-to-earth appearance that lets her start thinking clearly.

"My hair," she whispers. "What have you done to it?"

She reaches with her hand to touch her head, but it seems unnecessary. There is no hair left. She doesn't stop to think why a thought of her looking stupid crosses her mind.

Very quickly she finds her wand in the inside pocket of her robes and sobs out every spell she thinks might help, but all in vain.

"What do I do?" Her voice doesn't sound right. It's too girly. The only answer is to go to Madam Pomfrey, but that's not what she thinks about.

What if she misses the party?

She dresses quickly, throws a winter cloak around herself and throws the hood over her head. The rough fabric scratches her scalp.

Hermione starts crying.

Ten minutes later, she knocks on the Infirmary door.

At 9 p.m.

Everything is sparkling white and innocently pure. The snow glimmers blue, illuminated by tiny light squares that dot the castle walls. Every footprint and hole animals have left during the day has been covered with a new layer of light and dark.

Harry doesn't notice this. He only understands that it's cold and stares at the ground in front of him not exactly seeing anything. His woollen cap sits on top of his head, his hair pouring from under it, falling between his glasses and eyes. He bends and picks a frozen bullfinch from the ground slowly and gently, staring it in the black bead-eye. Harry's eyes seem glassy and pale to the contrary vivid green they usually are. He decides to call the bullfinch Bygone Autumn. He holds it between his red and gold-striped mittens as though hoping it would stir in their warmth.

Harry feels Draco's breath in his ear, the body pressed against his side, and voice, that doesn't remind him of anything. He hears it whisper as if someone could hear them, alone in Hogwarts's grounds. After curfew.

"That's definitely a dead bullfinch."

Harry closes his eyes. "Bygone Autumn," he says.

"Only if you do this," Draco says and screws up his eyes so that they are almost closed. "But normally it looks like a bullfinch to me."

"Dead."

"Yeah, dead."

"Try and be more accurate," Harry says and throws Bygone Autumn as far as he can. "We should get back."

"I thought you'd shag me first," Draco says indignantly and when Harry starts walking towards main doors, he spits bitterly on the ground. "Harry, goddamnit... HARRY!"

At 10 p.m.

The New Years party is fully alight when they arrive outside the Great Hall doors. Happy chatter, laughter and music can be heard from inside as sixth and seventh year students spend quality time together.

Harry pauses next to the doors and abruptly turns to Draco, who has come slightly panting from behind him. He knows what he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. After choking on them for a few seconds, he gives up.

"Where're your dress robes?"

Draco shrugs. Then he reaches out his both hands and puts them on Harry's shoulders carefully at first, but then claiming them in a death grip. It hurts. He draws the Gryffindor closer and with one smooth gesture, as though he has done this for years, and captures his cold-chapped lips with his own. Both boys open their mouths hungrily by instinct, tongues stroking, hands groping, the only way they can. It's all they have and all they want. They look each other in the eyes as they kiss, making it all more perverted than they would have ever thought possible. Their cheeks heat up and turn red. Harry sinks his nails into Draco's arms and when Draco looks he sees there are tears in Harry's eyes. He knows, he doesn't have to ask. It all adds up: Light, dark, winter, dead bullfinch, their hormones, the party in the Hall, dress robes, Harry and Draco, and love, and love...

"Don't..." Draco says, gripping Harry's hair painfully. "Don't say anything." He brings their lips together again, covers the other boy's face with hungry kisses. Harry responds, his eyes stare, he gasps and fumbles at Draco's tie. His hands are shaking.

"No, please, tell me... what are you thinking?"

"You know," Harry whispers. "I know you do."

"Yes..." Draco's pupils flutter behind his eyelids and all Harry can see are the whites. His hands come to free Draco's shirt from his trousers. His stomach is burning hot under it.

"Stop."

The sparkling world comes tumbling down. What the... Weaslette? Yes, she stands in the doors of the Great Hall, trembling from head to toes. She wears a little black dress and a firm expression. Draco notices a little dark mole on her left full breast. A slit in her... can you even call it a dress... goes up to her right thigh bearing it completely. A little higher and it would show her underwear.. if she's wearing any. Draco looks somewhere else. His gaze falls on Harry, who seems paralysed, but only for a millisecond. Then he steps forward.

"Obliviate."

Ginny blinks a few times.

"Go back."

Harry has his wand in his extended hand. He is frozen, though some of the fear covering his features earlier has worn off. Draco reaches to touch his shoulder but Harry slaps his hand away. He seems angry all of a sudden. Ginny turns and re-enters the Hall.

At 10.30 p.m.

The Great Hall looks magnificent. It's full with gold and silver, real fairies, little candles and ice sculptures. And laughter, laughter fills the air with warm buzzing. Students, draped in beautiful matching colours, spin on the dance floor, wave their arms like eloquent birds, cheeks flushed, eyes ablaze.

Ginny is livid. She sits on a spindly chair near a long table with drinks and taps its leg with the point of her black stiletto. She has lost Cho and a funny thought crosses her mind. I must look ludicrous in this. I'm just fourteen. I look... Cho?

A wave of black hair catches her eye from somewhere to her left. Ginny jerks her head around, ungracefully and so suddenly her neck hurts. She thinks she should rub it, but she's busy staring at Cho.

Cho with Cedric.

Ginny feels her eyeballs coming out of their sockets. Her foot freezes in mid-tap. Cho is draped all over the tall boy opposite her. She touches Cedric's hip teasingly, laughing as he whispers something to her. Cho's teeth are white like pearls and her eyes become slits when she smiles. Ginny notices she's almost drooling all over her front. Cho and Cedric are a blur of bodies and colours. After a minute Ginny doesn't see them at all.

"Hi, Ginny! What are you up to?" Ron's voice is cheerful. He holds a drink in his right hand. "You haven't seen Hermione, have you?"

Ron expects Ginny to turn to him or smile or both, but he doesn't expect her to jump up so suddenly that she steps astray, loses her balance and falls to the floor.

Ron extends a hand to help Ginny up, but something's wrong with her. She bends her arms back as though she wants to scratch herself between the shoulder blades, but Ron blinks in confusion she is unzipping her dress.

The black fabric peels off her gracefully and it all would look very artistic if Ginny wasn't bawling her eyes out.

"Ginny!" Ron drops the glass he's holding. "GINNY! What are you doing?"

If he had acted earlier she wouldn't have embarrassed him so much. If he had been more brotherly concerned she wouldn't have stood naked in the middle of the party letting everyone ogle her like a piece of meat. It's all he thinks about during next few days. If only...

At 11.00 p.m.

Hermione is sitting on a neat and white bed in the Hospital wing, reading Witch Weekly she has taken from the bed next to hers, first glancing carefully around for on-lookers. The magazine keeps her mind blissfully blank and she couldn't be more thankful for it.

In the middle of 'Sweet Merlin! My friend is in love with our Potions master!' there is a knock on the door. Hermione looks up and has barely a second to tuck the magazine under her pillow, before proceeding looking as though she has been gazing longingly out of the window all this time.

"Hi, Hermione. We heard you had come here." It's Fred and George, looking like two identical torches for their hair gleams and glitters. "Ron is a mess. You should see him." George chuckles but stops then abruptly.

Hermione's head is covered in bandages. Neither Fred nor George looks at it. Hermione doesn't notice, but her heart skips a beat when she hears Ron's name.

"Is it..." she breathes. "Is it because of me? I failed him, didn't I?"

"Oh, he certainly waited for you," George says and looks grave. He opens his mouth to continue, but finds that he can't.

"It's Ginny. Ginny started to..." Fred clears his throat. "...strip."

"What do you mean 'strip'?" Hermione's voice is back to normal. She's suddenly very happy because of it.

At 11.55 p.m.

Harry and Draco fight their way through confusion. With the explosion - that was Ginny - hundreds of golden lights like little flames have flown out of the Great Hall and tangled themselves in the boys' hair. They make them glow and they make Draco think he isn't himself anymore when he grabs Harry's arm and drags him down the corridor, away from the noise of the party.

"Where... what are you doing?"

"It's nearly midnight," Draco whispers, more to himself than to Harry. He stops and Harry bumps into him. There is a door on the left.

"In here," Draco says rapturously as though they are hiding. He pushes Harry inside and darkness envelops them like a bottomless pit. At first Harry thinks they really are hiding; from Ron or from Ginny, he doesn't care, but then Draco's hand is pulling at his hair and he gets the idea.

They fall to the dusty floor in the tangle of suffocating robes and messy hair. A wet hem of one of the cloaks is lapping Harry's face and he can't locate his legs. All he cares about is that Draco has dived inside his clothes and, propping himself up with his left hand, uses the right one to wrench his shirt open. Not caring about the fate of Harry's shirt buttons, Draco leans on Harry's chest and bends to tug at his belt with his teeth. Draco looks so exposed and his breath is ragged. He doesn't look like the Draco he used to look like.

"Hey." Harry grabs Draco's chin and forces to look up at him. He's very awkward, suddenly. He doesn't remember when it all started.

"What?"

Harry sits up in one motion and kisses Draco fiercely, and an image of the bullfinch dances behind his closed eyelids. He pulls Draco so close he feels that he's hugging the air, but Draco doesn't flinch.

At 2 a.m.

The castle is quiet.