mhalachai | FIC: Inevitable 54: Don't Think (AB/HP)

Inevitable Fifty-Four: Don't Think
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. Only the story is my own.
Note: Yet another chapter. And no, I'm not adding any warnings. Remember, this is a partly Anita Blake story. It's all sort of canon, or at least psychologically possible.
Previous parts here.

~~~~~~~

"There's no need to fume," Ginny said as she followed Harry into the castle.

"No need to fume?" Harry whirled on her, only then realizing that Ron was right on Ginny's heels. "Half the people who showed up for the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts weren't even in Gryffindor! A third of them couldn't fly!"

Ginny put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You're only mad because Sloper flew into the first years."

"I'm mad because no one seems to be taking this seriously!" Harry shouted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"It wasn't that bad," Ron said, leaning his broom on the wall. "I think those twin girls, the ones in first year, might be good Beaters."

"No, Sloper and Kirke are still better," Ginny said dismissively. "But maybe for in a couple of years, when--"

"If you two are quite finished?" Harry said.

Ron and Ginny turned to him with the same annoyed expression. "Will you stop it?" Ginny demanded. "You're worse than Hermione after a bad exam! You've got a week to make a decision on the players."

"She's right, mate." Ron gave Harry a crooked grin. "I've got a couple suggestions, if you... you know, still want to talk about plays and stuff."

Harry restrained the urge to sigh. They were right. The Quidditch tryouts hadn't been horrible. If only Sloper hadn't dive-bombed the watching first years, he might not be so upset. "Yeah, that'd be a good idea," he said reluctantly. "I need to go run the Snitch back to Madame Hooch, we can go over the results after lunch?"

"Right, I'll see you in the dorms," Ron said, looking positively gleeful.

Ginny shook her head. "After a shower."

"What do you mean, after a shower?" Ron demanded hotly.

"I mean, after a shower," Ginny said, pushing Ron down the hall. "You need a shower. Bye Harry!"

Harry turned in the direction of Madame Hooch's office. At least Ginny was speaking to him again. For the last week, even since Harry had asked Luna to the Hogsmeade weekend, Ginny seemed to have been avoiding him, and he couldn't figure out why. When he'd asked Hermione about it, she had given him a withering look and walked away without answering.

I guess flying with Ginny this morning made her less mad at me, Harry mused. Not that he'd had much of a chance that morning to fly; he hadn't even had a moment to hop on his broom before the others began to arrive for the tryouts. Maybe next week, in the morning.

Resting his Firebolt broom on his shoulder, Harry bounded along the corridor, irritation at the tryouts leaking away. Compared to the first week of school, the second, the one that had just passed, was beautiful, if he didn't count Ginny ignoring him. Classes had gone well, and he'd actually gotten his homework done on time thanks to Hermione's prodding. Reece seemed to be doing better, and there appeared to have been no more potions incidents with the boy.

Harry's Monday meeting with Dumbledore had been rather strange. Dumbledore had shown Harry a series of Pensive memories, of Voldemort's mother's family, the Gaunts. Strange, disturbed people, each and every one. In the end, Harry had learned that Voldemort had tricked the Wizarding world into thinking that his maternal uncle had killed the Riddles, Voldemort's father's family. As Harry had watched the memories, he had thought he'd seen something, some kind of strange thought about Voldemort, but it vanished whenever he tried to get too close to it. He was sure he'd get to it someday.

Harry had even survived his Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Friday. Snape had ignored Harry's presence entirely, and Harry had been glad enough to return the favour. In spite of everything, Harry's studying had paid off; he'd been able to perform every counter-curse Snape set to them. He hadn't been awarded a single point, but he was used to that.

All I have to do now is to keep this up, and hopefully I'll get through the term without injuring the greasy bastard.

Madame Hooch's office was near the Ravenclaw common room, so when Harry heard the murmur of voices down the hall, he wasn't surprised. A few more steps down the hall, however, and Harry could identify one of the voices, rising up in a panic. Luna?

Harry's steps slowed, and he concentrated on the voices. He couldn't say what it was about Luna's voice, but he knew she was nervous and angry and more than a little scared.

Putting the case with the Snitch against a wall next to his broom, Harry hurried silently down the corridor.

"-- had a deal!" a boy's voice said, angry. "Why do you think this would stop?"

"I'm not going to do your homework anymore, Michael!" Luna said, voice as strong as she could make it, but wavering slightly on the last word. "It's not right!"

"Really?" Michael Corner said mockingly, as Harry looked stealthily around the corner. "I'm sure Ginny would love to read this little diary... Or how about your precious Potter?" He laughed, but it was the sight of Luna growing so pale it looked as if she might faint that made Harry's blood boil. "Do you honestly think he'd still want to hold your hand in Hogsmeade if he knew?"

Luna tried to move away, but Michael went after her, grabbing her arm. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was around the corner, pulling Michael off Luna and slamming him up against the wall.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Harry growled, balling up Michael's robes in his hands.

"Harry!" Luna shouted, grabbing his arm. "Stop it!"

Terrified, Michael tried to twist away from Harry, but Harry wasn't letting go.

"Harry, please," Luna tried again. "He wasn't hurting me!"

"What was he trying to get you to do?" Harry demanded.

"Nothing, let him go!" Luna sounded so upset. Harry made himself step back and let go of Michael, not being able to resist giving him a hard shove against the wall.

The second he was free, Michael bolted down the hall. Harry wanted to go after him and hit him, just once, for doing whatever it was to Luna. How dare he do anything to her!

"What happened?" Harry demanded, turning on Luna. It was only after the words left his mouth that he realized she was trembling. "Did he hurt you?" Harry asked anxiously, looking her up and down.

She shook her head. "It's nothing," she said, lifting her chin. "Don't mind him, he--"

"He's a piece of dirt," Harry interrupted. "Come on." Carefully, he put his arm around her thin shoulders and guided her over to a low window seat farther along the corridor. "Here, sit down."

Luna sank to the seat, twisting her hands in her lap. Harry knelt in front of her, staring up at her pale face. He waited for a while for her to speak, not wanting to rush her. Just when she though he wasn't going to say anything, she finally opened her mouth. "Michael just..."

"Just what?" Harry asked softly. Inside, he was so angry he wanted to break something, preferably Michael's face.

Luna took a deep breath. "Did I ever tell you that sometimes, people take my things?" She waited until Harry nodded. "Last year, Michael took my diary. That's all."

"He took your diary?" Harry asked. "What..." Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. "Wait, he's blackmailing you?"

Luna looked miserable. "It's not really like that--"

"But he's making you do his homework or else he'll start showing your diary around?" Harry had never heard of such a low, underhanded, foul thing to do to a person, especially someone as nice and sweet as Luna. "What's he holding over you?"

Luna clenched her hands together so hard her knuckles went white, and shook her head.

Carefully, Harry pried her hands apart before she hurt herself. "I promise that I won't freak out, no matter what."

"You might." Harry had never heard Luna's voice be so bitter.

"I doubt it." He ran his thumb over the skin on the back of her hand. "Are you a Death Eater?"

"What?" Luna said, startled into looking up. "Of course not!"

"Planning on robbing Gringotts? Been betting on the Quidditch World Cup?"

Luna shook her head again. "You won't understand," she whispered.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." Harry reached up and touched Luna's cheek. "But you can't let that bastard Corner keep doing this."

"It's easier."

Harry bit down a growl. "He's a year ahead of you in classes, doing his homework can't be easy."

"I'm leaning lots more."

"Luna."

Luna deftly pulled her hand out of Harry's and slipped to her feet. She paced a ways down the corridor, then slowly turned and came back. She knelt on the ground beside Harry and looked at him with a burning intensity. "You have to promise me that you'll never tell anyone else," she said.

"I promise," Harry swore.

Luna took a deep breath. "Last year, I wrote something in my diary. It was stupid, but Michael..." She settled back on her heels, so frail in her black robes. "He read it and threatened to tell."

"Who would he tell?"

"Ginny." The word was whispered so low that Harry almost didn't hear. "He said he'd tell Ginny."

"What would he tell her? What did you write?" Now Harry was confused. He'd thought Luna and Ginny were close friends. What could Luna possibly have written about Ginny that Michael could blackmail her?

"That--" Luna took another breath. "That she'd kissed all kinds of boys, and I wondered if she'd ever wanted to kiss another girl. Like me."

Harry blinked. "What, that's it?" he said, the words out of his mouth before he thought. "What's wrong with that?"

Luna threw up her hands. "Everything's wrong with it!"

"Everyone thinks like that, it's part of growing up. And there's nothing wrong with it at all!" Harry exclaimed.

She shook her head. "I keep forgetting you grew up with Muggles."

"Huh?"

"It's just--" Luna closed her eyes. "It's just not done in the Wizarding world! If Ginny found out, she'd--" Luna's voice broke off. "She's just the first friend I ever had, and I'm scared she'll never talk to me again."

Harry moved to put his arm around Luna. After a second, she relaxed against him, resting her head against his shoulder. Harry could feel her trembling, ever so slightly.

"Ginny is your friend," he said firmly. "There is nothing that you could say to her to make her hate you."

"This might."

"What would you say if Ginny said something the same to you?"

"She won't."

"But you grew up in the Wizarding world too," Harry said. He had no idea what he was doing, and he hoped desperately that he didn't say something stupid. "Would you freak out?"

He felt Luna shake her head. "But this is different."

"No, it's not. And hey, I know and I'm not freaking out."

Luna sighed.

"So, can I kill Michael Corner now?" he said, only half-joking.

Luna pulled away slightly, eyes flashing. "No fighting!" she said hotly.

"How about injuring?"

"Harry! You'll get in trouble!"

"He's been blackmailing you!"

"Which makes it my problem!" Luna pushed her hair away from her face. "My problem. I have to deal with it."

As much as Harry wanted to go beat on Michael for a while, Luna was right. No matter what Harry did, it wouldn't solve the root problem. Luna needed to solve this.

"You won't tell Ginny," Luna said after a minute.

"I promised you that I wouldn't tell anyone," Harry reminded her. "Now, I need you to do something for me. Promise me that you won't let Michael do this anymore?"

Luna fidgeted with a fold in her robe. "I don't want him to tell Ginny."

Harry patted Luna's back gently, really wishing he understood girls. "Ginny wouldn't want you to be hurt."

Luna looked up at Harry with wide eyes. "You're a very strange person," she said. "You're nice to me, no matter what."

"I'm not strange," Harry contradicted, getting angry again. "I'm your friend. That's not going to change."

Luna smiled tentatively. "Do you still want to go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

"Of course." Harry stood and took Luna's hand to help her stand. "Anything you want."

Suddenly, Luna went up on her toes and kissed Harry on the cheek. "I'm glad you're my friend." Then she turned and ran off.

Stunned, Harry put his fingers to his cheek. Luna had kissed him. She'd let him hold her hand, and promised to stand up to Michael Corner, and she'd kissed him.

With his mind swimming in incoherent circles, Harry wandered back down the hall to where he'd left his broom and the box with the Snitch. In a daze, he took the case to Madame Hooch's office, left it in the bin outside the closed door, then headed back in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

She said she'd stand up to Michael, even though he's been blackmailing her for... how many months? Harry thought. She seemed so flighty when I met her, but not really any more. Was that because of Michael?

Wishing he hadn't told Luna he wouldn't hurt Michael, Harry bounded up a flight of stairs, turned a corner, and almost ran over a teacher.

Bouncing back, Harry tried to apologize.

"Not a problem," said the teacher. It was Professor Slughorn, the new potions teacher. "Harry Potter! Just the young man I was looking for!"

Harry frowned, pushing the mess with Luna to the back of his head as he focused on the professor. He was short enough for Harry to have to look down at him, and seemed to have gained a little weight in the short time since Harry first saw him at the head table the first day back at school.

The professor rocked back on his heels, hooking his thumbs in his old-fashioned waistcoat, and beamed up at Harry. "Just back from Quidditch, I see?"

"Er," Harry managed.

"Right! Well, Mr. Potter, you are invited to a little get-together I'm having this evening, just a few close friends, some rising stars here at Hogwarts. Just after dinner! Don't be late!" Before Harry could speak, Professor Slughorn bustled away.

Harry was left staring at the spot the teacher had just been. "What the hell just happened?"

~*~

The walk up to Gryffindor tower dulled Harry's irritation at Slughorn, letting him return all his attention to the problem with Michael Corner.

Maybe I can convince Luna to talk to Professor Flitwick. The head of Ravenclaw, Flitwick always seemed to Harry like a serious and principled teacher. There was no way he'd condone blackmail in his own house.

If only I hadn't promised Luna I wouldn't talk to anyone about it, Harry thought as he stormed up to his dorm, dropped his broom on his bed and grabbed clean robes. I wish I could just deal with it on my own, but I can't!

However, if Harry ever saw Michael lay another hand on Luna, he didn't know what he'd do.

Ron was the only one left in the boys' shower when Harry got there. "Took you long enough," Ron said, leaning close to the mirror as he shaved. "Get lost on the way to Hooch's office?"

Harry growled low in his throat as he began stripping off his Quidditch robes. "I had a problem with an ass."

Ron frowned at Harry's reflection in the mirror. "Should I even ask what you're talking about?"

"No, don't bother." Harry kicked off his boots and pushed them against the wall, under the bench beside his crumpled robes. "Just a stupid, ignorant, hateful little ass who's going to get himself hurt if he's not careful."

"Who's going to hurt who?" Ron asked, rinsing his razor.

"Oh, never mind," Harry grumbled. "Then to top it off, I almost ran over Slughorn and now I'm stuck going to some kind of after-dinner thing tonight and I don't even know why."

"Oh, that Slug Club thing?"

Harry twisted around. "Wait, you know about it?"

Ron gave a wry smile. "Both Hermione and Ginny are going."

"Since when?"

"Apparently Slughorn arranged it in the middle of the week, while you were buried up to your neck in Defence Against the Dark Arts books in the library."

"Oh. So why aren't you going?"

"Not invited," Ron said shortly.

"So go with Hermione."

"It's not that simple." Ron busied himself putting his things away. "Slughorn only wants people he thinks will amount to something, someday. Guess that doesn't include me."

Harry took in the dejected slump of his friend's shoulders, and wanted to kick something. "That's utter shit!" He yanked his t-shirt over his head. "There's all this bullshit about what we'll end up doing, and they don't know! They don't know anything! Hell, you've faced off against Voldemort with me how often?"

It was only after Harry threw the shirt onto the pile of his clothes that he realized how quiet the room was. He turned to see Ron staring at him.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What happened to your shoulder?" Ron demanded.

Harry looked down at his shoulder, where Snape had hit him with the curse the previous week. The skin had healed over, leaving only a lingering red mark. "Snape did that, in Defence last week. It's fine, just a little--"

"Not that," Ron interrupted. "All down your back. What happened?"

Oh, shit. Harry remembered, far too late, that the scars from Richard's werewolf claws over a month ago still hadn't faded; probably never would. He made himself shrug. "Just a bit of roughhousing. One of Anita's friends had a dog."

"How big was the dog?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Big. It's fine," Harry said, scooping up his towel and heading to the showers. "Look, I'll see you in a bit, all right?"

Not much bothered Harry about his friend, but seeing the look of scrutiny and almost out-of-character intensity on Ron's face was enough to send chills down Harry's back. Ron might be able to deal with the vampire blood, but could he handle the werewolf Harry held within his skin?

~*~

"At least there's no dress robes," Harry muttered as he gave himself one last glance in the mirror. He still couldn't believe he was doing this.

"You could stay here and we could go over the Quidditch results," Ron said gloomily, leaning against his bedpost, watching Harry get ready.

"I should." Harry wondered for a moment if he should slick his hair down, from the unruly tangle. I'm being an utter prat, he told himself. Since when do I care what a teacher thinks of me? "Hopefully I can get out of there in a few minutes, after I've seen what Slughorn wants. What kind of a name is the Slug Club. Honestly."

Ron slumped a little lower. "Ginny said Slughorn's been asking after you all week."

Harry frowned at his reflection. "Why?"

"Dunno." Ron watched as Harry bent over to tie his shoes. "He used to be Head of Slytherin House, you know."

"Brilliant," Harry muttered. "Just what I need, more Slytherins." He stood. "Look, I'm going to go. Hopefully this will all be a giant disaster and I can leave in a couple of minutes."

"That's right, think positive."

Ron slipped off his bed and went down to the common room with Harry. Everyone was gathered about, and Harry thought he saw a rowdy game of Exploding Snap in the corner, before his vision was interrupted by Hermione appearing in front of him. "Are you ready to go, then?" she asked excitedly.

"I guess..."

Hermione didn't seem to notice his reluctance. "We'll just get Ginny and we can go."

"Have fun," Ron mumbled, slouching against the back of a nearby couch.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Ron," she said. Then she went over to him and went up on her tiptoes to press her lips against Ron's.

Harry forgot it was rude to stare as he watched Hermione kiss Ron. He'd never seen them do anything like that, and in front of everyone, too!

A loud whoop came from the far side of the room, and laughter as Hermione pulled away from Ron, a satisfied look on her face. For his part, Ron looked a little pole-axed.

"They've been doing that all summer," Ginny said, popping up by Harry's elbow. He jumped a little at her sudden appearance. "It's really rather boring."

"What, kissing?" Harry asked. He blinked down at Ginny and promptly forgot all about Ron and Hermione. Her hair was tied back with the blue silk scarf he'd brought her from St. Louis, and she smelled like flowers and the breeze and all kinds of wonderful things.

"Watching them walk around like an old married couple," Ginny said, smiling up at Harry. He smiled back, his heart pounding in his chest. "Come on, don't want to be late."

Ginny stepped away, catching Hermione's hand on the way. Harry had to run to catch up as they exited the portrait hole into the hallway.

The girls their heads bent together, giggling, and Harry hung back a little. He needed some space to get his head together.

Hermione and Ron... he knew about that. He wasn't jealous of Ron, not really. Knowing Ron and Hermione were, well, close, was a whole lot different than actually seeing them kiss. Why isn't it as easy for me to find someone like that? Harry wondered, a little desperately. All the girls he seemed to want to kiss were either totally out of reach, like Ginny, or interested in someone else, like Luna.

You are not allowed to read anything into what Luna did, kissing you on the cheek! Harry told himself sternly. You were helping her out, as a friend!

"You're going to hurt yourself," Ginny called. She was now walking backwards beside Hermione, watching Harry. "Stop thinking so hard."

Harry held in a sigh. What was he doing, going down to this party? He had so many other things to be doing, like figuring out who to put on this year's Quidditch team, or studying Dark Arts defences, or even trying to decipher more about Voldemort's Horcruxes. Do I really have the time for socializing?

"Do we have any idea what's going to happen tonight?" Harry asked, catching up with the girls. "How soon we can leave?"

Ginny shrugged. "Professor Slughorn likes to talk about people he knows. There will probably be food, too."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all.

~*~

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn crowed as he pumped Harry's hand. "Welcome, welcome!" He gave Harry a little shove into his office before greeting Hermione.

Harry stumbled deeper into the room before he had a chance to look around. Slughorn's office was much bigger than any other professor that Harry had seen, besides the Headmaster. Squishy armchairs were arranged around the low tables, which were loaded with hors d'oeuvre. Standing around, looking as uncertain as Harry felt, were several other students.

He, Ginny and Hermione won't the other ones from Gryffindor. A fifth-year boy, Lawrence Hawkins, hovered in the corner by the mince tarts. He gave a weak smile when Harry looked at him.

Head Boy Blaise Zabini was the only seventh-year Slytherin. Harry was thrilled to realize that Draco Malfoy wasn't there. Harry didn't have a chance to look further around the room, as Slughorn was suddenly at his side, pulling an amused Ginny along. "Would anyone care for a drink?" Slughorn asked, lumbering over to a well-stocked table. "Butterbeer? Fizzy Lifting Drinks? Pineapple juice?"

Harry accepted a drink at random, then gingerly sat on the arm of a huge armchair. Hermione sat on the proper part of the chair and threw him an indecipherable look.

"Now, do we all know each other?" Slughorn asked, settling back in his chair and reaching into a box of dried fruit at his side. "No? There's no excuse for that in a school of this size!" He indicated Lawrence Hawkins, who though some trick of fate was the closest to the professor. "Lawrence Hawkins; his family manufactures the Firebolt broom line."

Lawrence gave a small smile to the room, but Harry saw the unhappy twitch of his mouth at Slughorn's words.

"Next is Melinda Bobbin, her family owns a series of apothecaries across England." The girl nodded with a solemn self-confidence.

Slughorn went around the room, introducing everyone, saving Harry for last. By the time it was Ginny's turn, Harry was about ready to walk about of the room, rather than listen to Slughorn's cheerful lauding of accomplishments not his own.

"And this is Ginevra Weasley, my best potions student!"

Harry blinked at that. Best at potions? With Hermione sitting right there? He snuck a glance at Ginny. She was sitting, pale under her freckles, resolutely watching Slughorn.

"Lastly, we have Harry Potter, who I am sure needs no introduction."

Behind Slughorn's back, Blaise Zabini looked as if he had swallowed something bitter.

"Quidditch captain, defeater of You-Know-Who, and holder of the highest Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL that Hogwarts has seen in almost a century!"

Harry forced a smile.

"This gathering here reminds me of many students past," Slughorn said, gazing fondly into the distance. Either he was really lost in his memories, or he was a very good actor, Harry through privately. "Your mother, Harry, Lily Evans, also a magnificent potions student on her day."

Harry opened his mouth to make a snapped comment about how it was too bad Voldemort killed her, but Hermione stabbed him in the hand with the point of her drink's umbrella, and he just glowered.

"I was talking to Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, about what we can do to facilitate the careers of our young people. Dear Barnabas, I remember when he was printing the Gobstopper Club newsletter in his second year here." Slughorn droned on about famous people he knew, all the while plying the students with more food. Harry was so on edge, he didn't eat a thing.

What's the point of all this? he wondered as Slughorn launched into a moderately amusing tale about Gwenog Jones, the captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team. To show off? To be able to say 'I knew them when' if we get famous?

As Slughorn talked, gradually drawing the students into conversation, Harry leaned back against the chair back and thought, hard. What was it Hagrid had said? Slughorn had been Hagrid's potions professor. Which meant that Slughorn had taught Tom Riddle, back when the soon-to-be Dark Lord was a student, making his diary Horcrux.

I wonder what Slughorn knows about Voldemort.

Harry waited as the conversation moved past Quidditch, to potions, then slowly to old Head Girls and Head Boys.

"... excellent marker of the quality of Hogwarts," Slughorn was saying, beaming at Hermione and Blaise. "The finest we have to offer, an excellent institution."

"Did you know all the Head Boys and Girls in your time, sir?" Harry said quickly, trying to be as smooth as possible.

"Yes, I certainly did!" Slughorn poured himself another drink. "Your parents included, Harry. Wonderful people."

Harry gave a tight smile. "Actually, sir, I was wondering if you could help me with something. A while ago, I came across an award to an old Head Boy, for Special Services to the School, and I'm curious if you know what he did."

Slughorn blinked at Harry, his moustache bouncing. "I'm sure I would," Slughorn said importantly. "Do you happen to recall the year?"

"1943," Harry said, trying to keep his face blank, not betray the pounding of his heart. "His name was Tom Riddle."

Harry heard a tiny snapping noise beside him, but he didn't look down at Hermione. He waited, watching Slughorn as the teacher paled, then gulped down the rest of his drink. "Tom Riddle, you say?"

"Yes, sir." Harry glanced around the room. Blaise Zabini was looking at him intently, but everyone else had a blank look on their faces. They didn't know the name. Ginny had gotten up to get another drink, and her back was to Harry. "I was curious, as it was a Head Boy like my father, and I wondered..." Harry let his voice trail off, his insides shuddering as he compared James Potter to the man who murdered him: Voldemort. I'm sorry, Dad.

"Perfectly understandable," Slughorn said, rallying. "I'm afraid I can't help you about the specifics about those awards, you should speak to Headmaster Dumbledore."

The note of finality in his voice told Harry that was all the information he was going to get. Harry leaned back, let Slughorn start talking about an author he knew, who was writing on vampires.

Slughorn knows that Tom Riddle is Voldemort, or else I'll eat my shoe! Harry thought. And he knows damned well what that school award was for: "Closing" the Chamber of Secrets! What else does he know about Voldemort?

The evening quickly tapered to a close, with Slughorn pressing boxes of chocolates into everyone's hands ("A welcome back gift from Ambrosius Flume, Honeydukes owner, surely you've sampled his treats before") and promising another evening soon, with a special guest or two.

Once the door closed behind Slughorn, the students stood awkwardly in the hall for a moment. Blaise Zabini was the first to stalk off in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons. The group broke up and headed in the direction of their respective dorms.

Harry caught up with Lawrence Hawkins as the fifth-year Gryffindor tried to escape down the corridor. "Hey, Lawrence?"

"Yes?" the boy asked, looking at Harry warily.

"I didn't know your family made the Firebolts," Harry said. "They're great brooms."

Lawrence pushed his scraggy brown hair back with blunt fingers. "Yeah."

His distinct lack of enthusiasm was enough to penetrate even Harry's interest. "I didn't see you at the Quidditch tryouts..."

Lawrence shrugged. "We make them, we don't fly them," he said. "It's the charms, they're the interesting part."

"You're into levitation charms and all that?" Harry asked. Lawrence nodded quickly. "Cool, I could never get those in class. I thought Flitwick was going to have kittens."

Lawrence shrugged again. "We can talk about it later, if you want."

"Not now?"

The other boy looked behind Harry. "I think someone else wants to talk to you now. I'll see you later," he said as he scampered away.

Harry twisted around to see Hermione and Ginny standing nearby. Hermione had her arms crossed over her chest, and she was glaring daggers at Harry.

"Oh."

Hermione uncrossed her arms and grabbed Harry's wrist. "What were you thinking?" she hissed, jerking Harry along with her down the corridors. "Why were you asking about him?"

"Someone has to, don't they?" Harry retorted.

"But we already know why Voldemort got the special award!"

"Yeah, but Slughorn doesn't know that," Harry pointed out. "He taught Voldemort potions for seven years! He might know something about--"

"About what, his motivation? His desire to kill all Muggles? To rule the Wizarding world?" Hermione stopped suddenly. "Do you honestly think that Slughorn can tell you anything you don't already know?"

"I won't know until I ask him, will I?" Harry said. Frustration was building in his chest. Why didn't she understand that he was only doing what he needed to do? "I need to know more about him, Hermione! If I'm going to stop him, I need to know all I can!"

"By asking potions professors?"

"By asking everyone!" Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Just knowing what Dumbledore tells me may not be enough, in the end. Right?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't like this!"

"You don't have to!" Harry folded his glasses and put them in his robe pocket. He could see well enough without them. "I just need to get this done!" He glanced down the hall, and frowned. "Where did Ginny go?"

"She went on to the common room," Hermione said. "Oh, Harry, I do wish you knew what you were doing!"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "Would it make you feel any better if I agreed with you?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said miserably.

Harry held out his hand. "Come on, let's go back to the tower and tell Ron how horrible tonight was."

Hermione looked at the offered hand, and instead looped her arm through Harry's. "Just don't tell him about the pumpkin cake; he loves that," she cautioned.

"This not inviting people thing is rubbish," Harry muttered. "We should bring him next time. He's a million times more interesting than Zabini."

"I wonder..." Hermione said. "Not about that," she corrected quickly. "But why Slughorn invited people like Melinda Bobbin, or Lawrence Hawkins."

"What do you mean?"

"People whose parents own things, not them. You and Ginny and Blaise and myself; we've all done things ourselves. Nothing against Lawrence, but he hasn't. Not yet."

"Maybe Slughorn sees potential?" Harry guessed. "Or else he wants a Firebolt."

Hermione smacked his arm. "Harry!"

"What?" Harry shot back. "He's trying to curry favour."

"It might help us," she said.

Harry clenched his jaw. "I don't want help from someone who used to favour Voldemort."

~*~

Late in the night, Harry woke gasping, the aftermath of another dream about Nathaniel burning on his skin. This dream was a lot more intense, and Harry's whole body ached. Why is this happening to me? he wailed silently.

Groping around for his bathrobe, Harry got out of bed. He pulled his robe on as he snuck out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room, his bare feet silent on the cold stone.

I don't understand! Why not a dream about a girl? Even a dream about Anita, I'd understand, but Nathaniel?

The fire in the grate had burned down to embers, and Harry bent over the coals for a few moments to warm his hands. Nathaniel's hands were warm, he remembered, along with his tongue and his--

Harry stood up a little too quickly, bumping his head on the mantle. "Ow," he muttered, rubbing his skull.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped about a foot into the air. "Ginny?"

The girl unfolded herself from the window seat on the far, dark side of the room. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," he lied. "Why are you up? You took off so fast after Slughorn's party, I didn't have a chance to talk to you."

"Why would that matter?"

Harry frowned at the cold tone. "What's wrong?"

"How can you ask that question?" Ginny flipped her hair behind her. "How can you stand there, after talking about Tom like that, and pretend you don't know anything?"

"Ginny..."

"Will you stop talking?" she demanded. "All that ever happens when you open your mouth these days is lying, or evading. You don't tell us the truth anymore, and when you do, it's hard and it's wrong and you can't say anything about Tom that I don't already know!"

Her voice was low, but a thread of something sharp, like shattered glass, rode on her words.

"Ginny, I--"

"You what? Want to know how Voldemort did in potions class? How he used to slice his valerian roots just so? How Slughorn used to award him extra points whenever he made a potion the perfect colour? What exactly did you want Slughorn to tell you about him?"

His insides turning to ice, Harry tried to think of something to say. "I didn't think--"

"Really?" The hard sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to hurt.

"Ginny," Harry tried again, "I needed to know if--"

"Can you just go away?" Ginny demanded. "You can't be here right now, all right?"

She turned and looked back out the window at the moonless night. Harry wanted to say something, to tell her he was sorry for not thinking about her when he was talking to Slughorn, but everything he thought of sounded like a lie in his head.

Eventually, he went back up to bed. He lay awake for a long time, wondering what he could say to make Ginny understand.

... to be continued

Current Mood: okay, i suppose

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From:

houses7177.livejournal.com

Fizzy Lifting Drinks!

Excellent ending scene with Ginny. He doesn't get it, he never did in the books and it's something I wish JKR would have explored, that Ginny actually lived Tom Riddle. Why isn't she a source of information? Humph.

Wonder what Ron will say about the scars--stubborn fellow that he is, I can well imagine he'll do some investigating of his own.

As for Luna? The only story I've written her in was a BtVS xover where she was paired with Tara. My default fanfic orientation for Luna is as a lesbian because I wrote her that way [note: canon, I think she's straight, irrational, I know] So her wondering about Ginny? Hello! Imagine the possibilities that the three of them could have, Harry/Ginny/Luna. Fun stuff.

From:

mhalachai was here

FIC: Inevitable 54: Don't Think (AB/HP)

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