Harry Potter

Autumn Songs

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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three Headed Dogs
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The morning after Halloween was so eerily reminiscent of years gone by that when Harry first woke she thought she was back with the Dursleys. She half expected to hear Petunia's screeching until she realized that the bed beneath her was much too soft to be her cot, the blanket much too thick to be her own. She did lay still for a moment, however, staring into the bed's curtains, uneasy with the thought. For all that Hogwarts had its flaws, Harry preferred it by far when the alternative was life with the Dursleys. Dudley may not measure up to the cruelty of pureblood children, and Petunia may be able to take some notes from Snape, but Hogwarts was where Harry had magic and friends.

On the other side of the room she could hear Blaise getting ready for the day, reminding Harry she still had class. The way she felt, and considering the previous night's events, she thought she had a reasonable excuse to skip class; but it was also Friday, and that meant Potions. No matter how legitimate the excuse, Snape would probably tear it to pieces. On the bright side, she reassured herself, the pain was not as bad as it had been and she still had pain relief potion either way. (It really was a handy potion. She would have to see if it was on her brewing level.) So Harry slowly pushed the covers off, shivering a little at the loss of heat, and poked through her curtains for her clothes.

She ignored Blaise's quiet scoff as she changed within the privacy of her curtains. Two months rooming together had managed to open him up to her—somewhat, anyway, if only in the privacy of their dorm—and the dark skinned boy made no attempt to hide his lack of understanding and sometimes even contempt for the way she changed. Harry wasn't quite sure why it mattered to Blaise, but for whatever reason he thought her modesty to be overblown and downright silly. Of course, she was sure he would have felt differently if he knew she was actually a girl, but then, he was not meant to. So Harry had thus far just disregarded his comments on the topic. It was her decision, anyway.

Although, perhaps she ought to search up a spell to lock her curtains in the case where he decided to get curious about whether she was hiding anything. (There would be a spell for that, right? Neville might know.)

Harry slipped silently through her curtains when she had finished, leaving her pajamas on the bed so she would not have to go through the trouble of reaching for them when she changed for bed. She raised an eyebrow at Blaise's judging stare, daring him to say anything. He didn't, just shook his head and rolled his eyes. He continued to keep his peace as they both worked through their morning ritual, and then as they walked out to breakfast together. Harry was much more at ease through this journey then she first had been towards the beginning of the year, when she had been unsure of her place with her friends. She had been nervous and a little intimidated then, worried that Theo would get mad at her for going to breakfast without him and oh so aware that while Blaise did not dislike her, he did not like her either. Since then, she had grown more confident both with her friendships and the school in general. Just like Harry could now confidently walk to class, certain of her route and even comfortable enough to sometimes take alternate routes, she was no longer quite so afraid that her friends would be angry if she did not do things a certain way. And Blaise, for his part, had a more solid opinion on her now.

But we were talking about their walk to breakfast.

It was only when they had taken their places at their table that Blaise said anything. As he particularly picked out fruits and scones to load his plate, he murmured quietly to her, "So I heard you met with a troll."

Harry paused, her hand hanging in midair on the way to the hash brown serving dish. The corner of Blaise's mouth turned up with her condemning reaction. ". . . Where did you hear that?"