Harry sat dejectedly on an over-stuffed couch in the Gryffindor
common-room. Ginny Weasley was snoring lightly against his shoulder, how
she could sleep with all this noise, he had no idea.

Hermione was somewhere, he’d lost track of her whereabouts and then
remembered she was quite capable of fending for herself. The last bloke
that had been fool enough to play her ended up having to shower in the
Quidditch change rooms, in the wee hours of the morning. Every time the
poor boy stripped his butt would start crooning like Sinatra on acid. Harry
had to admit it had been hilarious and the kid a butt of many a practical
joke for months after…

Harry cringed inwardly at the awful pun.

The party was in full swing; to be honest it had been swinging for well
over an hour and no sign of their champion. What the hell was Ron up too?

Professor McGonagall had come and left, still no Ron. Harry had expected to
see his best friend tagging along behind his teacher, but he hadn’t
appeared. McGonagall had informed him that Ron needed some space, that he
would arrive shortly and not to worry, but enjoy the victory without him
for awhile.

Harry couldn’t find the energy to celebrate another win against Slytherin;
not without Ron’s wild enthusiasm to egg him on. It just didn’t seem worth
it unless his redheaded friend was here to share in humiliating those
death-eater wannabe’s.

Several times he had got up to look for Ron himself, but had been thwarted
at the last second. The first time it had been Seamus pouncing on him
moments before he reached the portrait hole. He had been dragged over to
join in some drunken singing, headed by the surprisingly talented voice of
one Neville Longbottom.

They had thrust him into the centre of their circle and asked Harry to
devise lines for their impromptu Gryffindor cheer. He had not been nearly
plastered enough to entertain that idea. After that embarrassment, he
sneaked away while they were all distracted by Seamus… who had suddenly
felt the need to strip bare and wrestle a surprised Neville to the floor.

Unfortunately just as Harry thought he’d managed to escape, Ginny had
latched onto his arm and like a tenacious limpet she refused to budge.
Hence the reason why he was squashed up against the arm of the couch, the
dead weight of a comatose Weasley making his shoulder ache with ruthless
persistence. For a slight girl she was bloody heavy, he wouldn’t have
minded had it been another Weasley entirely, but he refused to even go there.

Harry had just about made up his mind to ditch the lousy appointment as
Ginny’s comfy cushion, so that he could go look for Ron in earnest. God
help anyone who got in his way this time around.

He tried shrugging his shoulders, nudging her head in a series of none too
gentle jabs, but the girl went right on sleeping through all of it. Harry
realized he would have to be brutal if he wanted out of this increasingly
painful situation. He took a handful of her auburn locks and was about to
tug, when fingers brushed in front of his face on the way to slapping the
girl sharply across her cheek.

Harry missed the anger that consumed Ginny’s features as she was jolted
awake by the sting of her brother’s hand. Harry had turned his startled
expression upwards and found himself openly gaping at his best friend.
Ronald Weasley was leaning casually over the back of the couch in a lazy
sprawl. Harry guessed those long legs were draped carelessly over the
richly carpeted floor behind him.

Harry blinked at the thought.

Ron was beaming down at him, he was soaked to the bone, his Quidditch
uniform clung to his body far too provocatively for Harry’s liking and he
was also way too close for comfort.

Trying not to be too obvious, Harry leaned forward away from the tempting
apparition hovering behind his left shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut as
he attempted to block the warmth of that breath prickling across the back
of his neck.

Ron clapped him across the back and Harry all but flew off the couch. He
instantly regretted his behaviour as he heard Ron laughing heartily behind
his paralyzed form.

“Harry… you sure are jumpy. Do you think I’m going to tackle you to the
floor and use you as my personal body pillow like my sister?”

Harry gulped, not sure how to respond to that. Berating himself on his
continued silence, not to mention that he’d failed to turn around and face
his best friend as yet.

He heard a hard slap, then an “Ouch, what was that for?”

“What was that for?” Ginny shrieked. “You slapped me first.”

Harry slowly turned around to discover the two siblings facing off across
the couch, an innocent mass of wood, stuffing and burgundy material between
them. Before he even thought about what the heck he was doing, Harry had
leaped up on the couch to intervene.

Ginny of course, had chosen that moment to grab for her brother, hitting
Harry across the bridge of his nose instead, sending his glasses flying.

“Harry!” she yelped. Reaching out to him as he sunk into the cushions, his
right hand curled protectively over his wounded nose.

Well, that was the last time he got in the middle of fight where two
Weasley’s were concerned. Ginny had a mean right hook; it obviously wasn’t
a good idea to get on her bad side.

Harry could feel, actually the truth is he couldn’t feel a darn thing…his
nose was numb. He was though conscious of the blood dribbling through his
fingers and over his lips. He had a sudden urge to lick them clean; it was
only the presence of one Ron Weasley looming over him… that stopped him in
mid-action.

His tongue frozen between his lips as Ron continued to stare worriedly at
him. Harry wanted to explain that he was alright but his throat was dry. He
coughed nervously, digging into the pockets of his robe for a hankie. It
seemed Aunt
Petunia drilling into him the importance of cleanliness had obviously
sunken in. Extracting the tatty square of cotton from his pants he
proceeded to dab at his nose, ever wary of those blue eyes watching him
closely.

Just when he thought he could not endure any further scrutinizing on Ron’s
behalf, Ginny spoke up.

“Ron for goodness sake, give him some room to breathe” she snapped.

He growled back at her from his crouched position by Harry’s side. “You did
this to him” he shouted back. Harry was just happy that Ron now had his
attention wholly trained on his sister instead of him. He felt foolish
reacting this way with his best friend, but he had no control on his emotions.

The sensation was returning to his nose, a slow torturous pounding that
tweaked up the volume of the migraine trying its damnedest to split open
his skull. Ron and Ginny had started to argue in earnest now; he tuned out
their screaming match in favour of concentrating on his own pain.

Harry fumbled once more in his robes for his wand when he remembered that
he’d placed it on his bed straight after the Quidditch match. Realizing
that neither of them would notice his absence, he got up and headed for the
stairs.

He’d taken a couple of steps when a hand touched him lightly on the
shoulder. Harry turned around expecting Ron, but found himself facing
Marcus Kelgarr instead.

Oh shit…not now. Please.

The last thing he needed was another fist in his face. Unconsciously he
tightened his hand over his nose in some small bid to protect himself.

“Harry, you alright there?”

Harry noted the slight slurring of Marcus’s words. Let him be too pissed to
remember that he'd sent him off on some foolish errand after Dumbledore.

Marcus had zeroed in on the blood covering his fingers and licked his lips,
a mesmerized grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Harry watched in sickening horror as Marcus leaned towards him. “You been
in a fight, can I help? Know a spell that could fix that right up…”his
voice a harsh whisper before trailing off completely, he gazed, practically
salivating at the bright red drops of blood splashing onto the thick carpet.

Harry couldn’t have been more disgusted, backing away from Marcus slowly.

“No” he answered a little too forcefully. “I’m good, really, thanks though”

Harry gave him a quick grin then left hastily.

“Are you sure, I’d really like to help?”

Harry ignored him, speeding up his retreat. On his way up to the boy’s dorm
rooms he bumped into Hermione. She was comforting a distraught Ginny who
was huddled on the top stair…crying bitterly.

How did she get past him, he’d only left her a moment ago arguing with Ron.
Harry shook his head; he was surely in the twilight zone. He almost
laughed, but even the thought made his nose throb miserably.

It was Ginny that noticed him approaching first “Harry” she screeched,
tears running down her face, she ran down the stairs to meet him. “Oh
Harry, I’m so sorry I hit you. I didn’t mean to. But you got between us…”

“I should know better,” he interrupted with a half-hearted attempt at
laughing which ended in more spluttering. He moved back as she tried to hug
him, he was not in the mood to be comforted.

Hermione came forward, eyebrow raised “Can’t you spend one night without
getting yourself injured” she sighed

Harry shrugged helplessly “Apparently not.”

Hermione grinned at him as Harry smiled sheepishly back. In truth she was
only happy to help out her friend. Ginny scowled at Hermione’s back as she
was unceremoniously excluded from the private moment.

She huffed, stomping up the stairs and turning right into the girl’s dorm
before they could even open their mouths to stop her. They both stared at
the empty stairwell for what felt like minutes before…“What’s up with her?”
Harry gurgled painfully, the blood flow had increased. Maybe it was the
altitude.

“Oh nothing” she sighed dramatically turning back to Harry. She frowned
“Here” she murmured. “Sit down” indicating the stair below her.

Harry did as she asked. Hermione drew her wand out of the folds of her
skirt and gave it a quick flick in Harry’s direction.

That’s all it took, Harry lifted a hand and felt his nose, everything was
back where it belonged. No blood and most importantly no pain.

“Thank you” he beamed in awe at her. “Don’t mention it” she intoned and
without a backward glance followed Ginny up the stairs and into the dorm room.

It was Harry’s turn to frown as he silently watched her move up the stairs
and out of sight.

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