The Wand of Ravenclaw

The Dark Lord's Cave

At first, there was only blackness. A tight shroud enveloping the head, denying sight, grip ever increasing. Then the water rushed in, picking at lidded eyes, clogging ears and then, through no fault of its own, filling the cavity of a stupidly open mouth. Then the taste. Soapy, floral and completely in the wrong place.

Harry broke the surface of the water and spat out copiously. He sputtered a few moments, wiped desperately at his tongue, in a futile attempt to rid himself of the lingering flavour of lavender and peony that clung there, then cursed out loud. Whether it was anger at the mouthful of bubbly water, or frustration at failing the spell again, Harry couldn't tell, but either way his mood was going decidedly sour.

Hermione, sitting nearby, was far more encouraging. "You had it for a moment there, Harry. Keep going, I know you can master this."

"That makes one of us," Harry replied crossly. He was cross with himself. Cross not just for failing, but for failing in front of Hermione. Again. He hated letting her down, of disappointing her, especially when she was there to see it. And he knew he was. Despite what she was saying. He knew she just cared too much for him to be overly critical. The thought cheered him slightly.

"Its not a simple spell," said Hermione placatingly. "And you have to do it non-verbally. And underwater. Its a lot to hold in your mind at once and you're doing really well. Honestly, you are."

"How can you be so supportive when I'm obviously rubbish?" asked Harry, almost to himself, half in wonder.

"You are not rubbish, at anything," Hermione swooned. Harry's heart did a little foxtrot. He loved it when she used that voice. "Like I said, its a tricky spell. You'll get it eventually. Try to stay positive."

"I would say 'why don't you come and try if you're so brilliant', but you are, and I bet you'd do it first time."

Hermione blushed. "You're just adorable, aren't you?"

"Just trying to make up for lost time. After six years of not appreciating you to your face I'm trying to squeeze in as much as I can."

"Do you see me complaining?" Hermione said, somewhat sultrily. "In any case, I'm enjoying watching you all wet and slick over there. Its quite the view, let me tell you. Myrtle was right, this is an indulgence."

"Oh gods, where is she?" asked Harry, suddenly aghast. "She's not here, is she?"

"Probably. Peeking out of a pipe somewhere I imagine," Hermione teased.

Harry was suddenly bashful about bobbing around in the water in just his swimming trunks.

"Remind me again why we are practising this in here?"

Harry gesticulated around. The Prefects bathroom. The gorgeous, siren-like mermaid winking down at him from her portrait on the far wall. Hardly good prep for the murky depths of an Inferi-infested cave pool.

"I thought it would be more pleasant than say, the icy waves of the Great Lake," said Hermione sardonically. "It is Winter, and we are in Scotland. Not really the ideal place for a swim right now."

"And the bubbles? How do they fit in?"

Hermione laughed. "I just fancied taking a bath with you. You look so pretty in bubbles. I miss our baths at Grimmauld Place."

Harry shuddered, shivering even in the warmth of the water. Good shivering. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Memories cascaded, bubbles, warm water, Hermione, an empty house, then the rest...

The Bubble Head Charm practise session was driven from his mind.

Harry swam slowly over to Hermione, like a predator stalking its prey. Though this was one hunt different to all others. This prey was happy to be snared. She looked down at him from her position perched on the edge of the bath, her legs dangling in the water, kicking lightly against the ridge of bubbles. She was wearing a swimsuit, azure blue and clinging. Harry liked that. She was twisted slightly, one knee resting over the other. She looked remarkably like the mermaid likeness behind her only solid, real, alive. And, Harry thought with a jolt of pride, eminently more sexy. He might have found himself drooling at the sight. It wouldn't have surprised him.