The Changing Lights by lazywonderland

chapter twenty

Harry climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room at a quarter past six the next morning and found Hermione poring over an essay. He froze at the entrance, feeling absurdly as though he'd just been caught sneaking around. Hermione stared back, naked surprise on her face, followed closely by confusion, and then amused understanding.

"Well, well, well," she lilted as Harry took a chair beside hers, halfway between frowning and laughing. "How was Slytherin?"

"Oh, shut up, Hermione," Harry said, but a smile had crept onto his face as well. His heart was too full to be anything but good-humoured. He'd replayed the whole thing in his head several dozen times since he'd woken up, snogged an adorably half-asleep Draco senseless, and then left for Gryffindor Tower, and yet it remained difficult to believe he had actually shagged him. "You're not going to believe what Ron did."

"I know what he did," she grinned. "He told me shortly after it happened; I only hoped Malfoy would actually go through with it. Ron's really growing up this year, isn't he?"

"We all are," Harry said with a nod, and in the spirit of proving himself right, tamped down on the part of himself which started to swell indignantly at the knowledge that Ron and Hermione had orchestrated something behind his back. It had, after all, turned out rather wonderfully. "I'm just trying to picture how Ron managed to corner him between lessons, y'know? And where the hell was I, by the way?"

Strangely, a quizzical look passed across Hermione's face. Maybe nobody else would have noticed, but Harry could plainly see her start trying to put something together quickly in her head. This meant that either he hadn't picked up on something obvious, or else he was missing an entire chunk of the story.

"All right, spit it out," he said, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow at her. "You look like you're about to tip-toe around telling me something, so just get it over with. What am I missing?"

Hermione looked slightly conflicted when she said, "Malfoy didn't ... tell you what happened?"

This cryptic question left Harry feeling infinitely more annoyed. "Apparently not," he deadpanned. "He just told me Ron caught up to him between lessons. Would you mind clueing me the rest of the way in, then?"

"Well ... Ron pulled someone off him, Harry." Harry gaped at her. "Remember when Boothby asked you to stay after our lesson yesterday morning? I had Arithmancy after Defence, I went to class, but you and Ron have that free hour. In fact, I have that class with Malfoy, and he never showed up. Ron said he was taking a shortcut back up here and ran into him. The way Ron tells it, some Hufflepuff he didn't recognise had him cornered."

"What, you mean like another Kenny Helstrom?" he snapped, fear and anger bubbling to the surface; why hadn't Draco told him? And Ron and Hermione ... they'd known all day. "Did neither of you think to mention this to me? Seriously?"

"Well, of course we thought about it," she said, sounding anxious. He could see her silently making up her mind, although the way she bit her lip told him she was going against her better judgment. "Honestly, Harry, I ... I told Ron not to tell you, he was going to. I stopped him. I mean, I figured Malfoy would anyway. If you want to be angry with me, that's fine, I can handle it. I stand by my decision. I just thought that ... that for once, maybe it was about time somebody saved you instead of the other way round." Whatever retort had been ready on Harry's tongue died at these words, an iron band clamping down around his heart. There were, he saw, tears shimmering in Hermione's eyes. "I knew if we told you what had happened you'd lose your mind trying to figure out who it was, and you've ... you've been so unhappy, Harry ... when Ron told me he thought he might've convinced Malfoy to talk to you ..." She wiped beneath her eye, where a fat tear had rolled down onto her cheek. Having been wholly unprepared for this turn of events, Harry watched Hermione with a helpless feeling in his limbs.