Chapter Ten

After a week at Hogwarts, Harry came to the conclusion that school could be insanely boring at times. The castle itself was far from boring, of course, with its numerous secret passages and hidden rooms, but he hadn't had as much time as he wanted to explore them. As every professor had explained, N.E.W.T.s would be upon them before they knew it, which meant the seventh-years could usually be found buried beneath a mountain of tomes, dishevelled and cranky, but too busy to sleep.

Despite Harry's struggles with his wayward magic, he thought he did a remarkable job of keeping his head above water when so many of his classmates were drowning. It was why, when the majority of the seventh-years were holed up in the library on a Friday night, forgoing a break because of the sheer amount of homework they needed to complete, Harry opted not to join them. He had laughed at Ron when the redhead had gloomily traipsed after Hermione towards the library, but Harry's decision not to study left him bored when he discovered he didn't know anybody in the common room by name.

Idly scratching his chin, he surveyed the room from his position in the armchair closest to the fire (it had suddenly become cold over the last week). The sixth-year students were the lucky ones, living in the one year period between the most important exams. They were enjoying the start of the weekend, but Harry spotted a fifth-year who looked more relaxed than any of them. She was also staring at him. The moment of eye contact was apparently all the incentive the dark-haired girl needed, because she slipped away from her table of friends to saunter over to Harry, a very noticeable sway in her hips.

When she reached him she gave him a saucy smile. "Hi," she said throatily, perching on the arm of the squishy chair. "I'm Romilda. Romilda Vane."

Harry smothered his grin. His boredom would soon (with any luck) be a thing of the past, if the way she was looking at him was any indication.

"Tell me, Harry, why aren't you studying like the rest of your friends?" Romilda appeared genuinely interested, but she was speaking again before Harry could get a word in. "I bet it's because schoolwork's just holding you back. Is that it? I'd love to see what you can really do with a wand … when you're not holding back." Her eyes were now very wide and gleaming. "Would you … would you show me?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

Harry's throat went dry. He couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't even said a word yet, and didn't think he'd need to utter a single syllable to get what he wanted. Romilda's eyes went very wide when Harry retrieved his wand with a flourish, a very extravagant one at that. He tapped it against her bare thigh. Nothing happened, and Romilda frowned, but then her eyes bulged and she gasped.

"Oh, fuck me," she said, shuddering.

"That's what I was planning on," said Harry, and before he knew what was happening, Romilda had pounced on him. Harry flailed around on the armchair, his mouth assaulted by Romilda's tongue, before the girl pulled away.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hands balled up in his shirt, "I never thought I'd get to do that. And now that I've had a taste, I want to devour the whole banquet!"

Harry couldn't help thinking Romilda's peculiar words would be Ron's idea of heaven: a girl who used food terminology when talking dirty. Of course, Ron would have to wait his turn. Harry stood up, holding Romilda to his chest, her feet dangling over his arm.

"Oh my," she said, giggling into her hand. "You're so strong!"

Delighted with himself, Harry crossed the common room, relishing in the jealous stares coming his way. He walked slower than he needed to just to make sure everyone saw him. Romilda's hands started wandering as Harry climbed the stairs, and by the time they reached the dormitory her hands had disappeared inside his trousers.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" Harry asked.

"I've waited far too long for this!" Romilda growled, squirming out of his arms to stand before him. She walked him backwards towards the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress and climbing onto him. "Now," she whispered into his ear, "tell me how much you want to fuck a naughty little witch like me? Tell me you want to fuck me!"

Harry decided there and then he much preferred being the one in control. Taking Romilda's hands, he flipped her over onto her back. "How about I make you beg for it?" he asked, and was rewarded with a frantic kiss.

Sometime later, Harry had allowed Romilda to resume control. He was enjoying letting her do all the work, and staring at her breasts as she moved. "I wish more girls were like you Romilda."

The bed stopped rocking with one last bang of the headboard against the wall.

"What?" Romilda asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"If every girl was like you the world would be a far better place," said Harry. "Straightforward, no hassle."

"Oh," said Romilda, her frown upturning. "You're so sweet, Harry."

"Aren't I just?"

Ron Weasley's natural habitat was not the library. Spending hours poring over dusty old books, reading about how the difference in using a frog and a toad's eyes could completely alter the desired outcome of a potion, wasn't how he had envisioned spending his Friday evening. It wasn't all bad, though. Hermione's presence, without Harry there for once, was a chance for him to show her that he was doing his best to grow up.

Over the last few weeks, Ron had come to a realisation: this was his last year at Hogwarts. It was his chance to make something of himself. After complaining all his life about his family's lack of wealth, he was determined not to continue the trend. While he wasn't expecting earth-shattering results in the end-of-year exams, he was sure he could scrape together decent grades.

It wasn't as though he was stupid. He was a little above average in most subjects without really trying, but people always ignored that. He wasn't as good at Harry at the practical side of magic, and nobody had ever beat Hermione in the theory, and that was the problem. Ron just couldn't hope to compare favourably to his two best friends – but he was constantly being compared to them by everyone else.

Ron put his quill down and massaged his aching hand. Finally, he had finished the Potions essay. He saw Hermione was still working, her face partially covered with her hair, the rest lit up with the glow of candlelight. Ron's stomach clenched painfully. He watched her for a while, wondering if she noticed him; she never did, of course. Once Hermione had put her mind to something, like homework, nothing short of Harry doing something monumentally stupid could distract her.

"There," said Hermione, at last. She sighed, looking extremely content. "All that's left now is Professor Flitwick's Charms essay, which I'll do tomorrow. Have you finished already?"

Ron ignored the surprise evident in her tone. "Yeah," he said, gesturing to the essay. "All finished. Would you mind checking it over for me?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I hope you're not expecting me to –"

"No, really, I just want you to make sure I haven't completely cocked it up," said Ron, before she could work up a rant.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Okay." She reached for his homework, and Ron spent the next ten minutes staring at her … again. He hated himself for how much time he spent simply gazing at her like a lovesick idiot. He couldn't stand it when he saw other people doing it. "There's a few spelling mistakes, but other than that …" Hermione beamed at him. "It looks fine to me."

"Thanks," said Ron, stuffing the essay into his bag, throwing his quill and inkpot in after it. "I'd offer to do the same for you, but you know …"

Once Hermione had put her things away carefully, unlike Ron had done, they set off for the common room. The corridors were dark, the wind was howling against the windows, and they walked along in a comfortable silence for a while.

"I can't help but notice," said Hermione, as they turned the last corner, "that you haven't complained once all evening."

Ron stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to stop her seeing the sudden panic that had engulfed him. "Yeah," he said, chuckling hollowly. "I've got to do the work. There's no point in complaining about it."

Hermione's eyebrows crawled up her forehead and she paused mid-step. "Did I just hear you correctly? Is Ronald Bilius Weasley finally maturing?"

"It had to happen sometime," said Ron, frowning at her use of his middle name. What had his mother been thinking?

"I suppose so," said Hermione, laughing disbelievingly. "I'm proud of you, Ron. It's nice to see you trying for once."

Ron shrugged it off like it was nothing, even though he was so happy he felt like he could play the next Quidditch match without a broomstick. As they neared the Gryffindor common room, they heard voices from a nearby abandoned classroom. Ron thought nothing of it initially. It wasn't unusual for students to hang out in rooms that weren't in use. Then he recognised one of the voices. Or, more specifically, he recognised the throaty moan emanating from behind the door. When you'd heard that moan every night for the past week or so, it was hard to forget.

"That's Parvati," muttered Ron, making a face. "Don't those two ever stop?"

Hermione eyed the closed door of the classroom in disgust. Whether it was because of the act taking place or because of where it was taking place wasn't clear, but Ron refrained from asking. "Come on," he said, nudging Hermione towards the common room. "Let's leave them to it."

The common room was alive with chattering students, many of whom Ron suspected were drunk. One boy was passed out face first on the back of a sofa; another was staggering up the girls' staircase only to slide back down, and then repeat it over again.

"I'm going to bed," declared Hermione, who for once turned a blind eye to the rule-breaking happening under her nose. She stood on tiptoes, kissed Ron on the cheek, and then marched up the staircase, sending a filthy look over her shoulder at the boy slouched at the bottom of the stairs.

Biting back a sigh, Ron climbed the boys' staircase. He would have preferred more time in Hermione's company, but would take what he could get. Entering the dormitory, he felt a sudden onslaught of déjà vu. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, he took in the full sight, and realised it wasn't like the time he had walked in on Harry and Parvati. For one thing, it wasn't a nude Parvati's legs wrapped around Harry this time; it was a naked Romilda Vane. The worst part was –

"Oi! That's my bed!" Ron thundered in sudden realisation.

Romilda squeaked in surprise, and toppled off the bed out of sight. Harry was left completely exposed and covered in sweat, although he didn't look concerned in the slightest. He was laying back, hands behind his head, a certain part of his body saluting Ron.

"Fucking hell, Harry," said Ron, shielding his eyes from seeing something he'd never wanted to see, but had seen numerous times in the last week. "Did you have to use my bed? Your own is right next to mine!"

Harry looked left and right. "Oh yeah, would you look at that?" He laughed. "In all the excitement I didn't realise."

Romilda poked her head over the side of the bed, cheeks flaming. She, unlike Harry, looked apologetic. She had also somehow managed to get dressed. "I think I'll just … go," she said, and sprinted out of the dormitory.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, frowning in thought as the door swung closed. "I thought you were with Parvati?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Harry, sighing. "We're not exclusive."

"No, I know that, I meant right this moment," explained Ron. "On my way back to the common room, I heard her in an abandoned classroom. She was … uh, she was moaning. You know, like she does when you're … well." Ron made a face.

"Oh," said Harry, looking taken aback.

"You okay, mate?"

"Okay? I'm more than okay! This is awesome!" Harry jumped out of bed, forcing Ron to redirect his hands to shield his eyes. "Do you know what this means?"

"That you're not exclusive?"

"Well, yeah, but she won't be angry at me!" Harry looked to be on the verge of crying in happiness. "You know what girls can be like. They say one thing, but when you actually call them out on it they change their minds! Ha!"

Ron had experienced exactly what Harry was talking about, but still couldn't help wondering how long it would be until it all blew up in his face. "Are you saying you don't mind Parvati being with some other guy?" he asked, delicately.

"Why would I be?" Harry asked, appearing genuinely interested. "Who else could compare to this?" He gestured to his currently naked state, as though he was Merlin's gift to women. Ron hadn't spent a lot of time looking at the male form, but he didn't think Harry was particularly impressive. If anything, he was a bit on the weedy side.

"You know," said Ron, deciding to humour him, "she might have been with another girl. If you're that good in bed, I mean, she'd have to turn to girls."

It was evidently the wrong thing to say: Harry's eyes lit up and he started frantically scrambling around for his discarded clothes. "I've got to go see her," he said, still pulling on his shoes when he left the room. "Later, Weasley!"

Ron turned to his defiled bed and forced the bile back down his throat. He was sure he spotted a few stains, and the wet patch was gleaming in the moonlight. Looking over his shoulder, satisfied he wouldn't be disturbed, he hurriedly switched his sheets with Dean's.

"That's what you get for fucking my sister," Ron said, sighing deeply into his pillow.

Try as he might, Harry didn't manage to find Parvati that night. He'd looked in a number of the abandoned classrooms they'd recently gone to, as well as their favourite broom cupboard, but she was nowhere to be found.

It was only later on that night, when he was struggling to get to sleep, that he realised there was a special map in his trunk. How could he have forgotten? Ron had told him just the other day what is was, how it worked, and now was Harry's chance to use it.

Harry's eyes snapped open in the dark. The map was out of his trunk and in his hands in seconds. He had also retrieved his invisibility cloak, and he put the silencing charm over himself in preparation. Whispering the password and lighting the tip of his wand, he bent low over the map. He sought out Parvati, finding her in bed, presumably asleep.

It was no use trying to reach her, as Harry had found out. There was simply no way into the girls' dormitory. He had tried running as fast as he could up the staircase, managing to reach the last step, but that was as far as he'd gotten. The next step had been attempting to fly, but the broomstick had hit an invisible barrier, blocking entry to the stairs. Harry had taken his Firebolt outside, but found he couldn't open the window. Parvati had even tried helping him, opening the window from the inside, but another invisible barrier had stopped him.

Feeling a tad disappointed, Harry was about to close the map when a moving dot in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Remarkably, it was the only student out of bed. A girl named Daphne Greengrass had just entered the prefects' bathroom.

A grin made its way onto Harry's face. He committed the password to the bathroom to memory, placed the map back inside the trunk, and slipped out of bed. It didn't take very long to reach the bathroom. His heart sped up as he stood outside the locked door. After he'd whispered the password, the door clicked open, and he held his breath as he peered inside.

The bathroom was quite dark, lit only by a few candles, and was emitting a strong scent of lavender. The bath itself was larger than Harry had ever seen; it looked big enough to fit the whole Quidditch team in, with room to spare. Harry stepped inside, being as quiet as he could as he shut and locked the door behind him. He was met with steam, making it quite hot and uncomfortable under the invisibility cloak.

For a moment, he wondered where Daphne was. But then he saw her, and was quite disappointed to see she was nearly hidden inside a mountain of multi-coloured bubbles. Her eyes were closed, and she had a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. One of her legs was raised just below the water, her toes breaking the surface.

Harry had vaguely recognised her name, but now that he seen her he realised exactly who she was. Daphne was the blonde girl he'd seen sitting at the Slytherin table and in most of his classes. He had been warned to stay clear of Slytherin students by Ron, but Harry didn't particularly care when they looked like Daphne did.

Unable to resist, Harry walked further inside for a better view, and tripped over a stack of fluffy white towels. One moment he was watching the naked, pretty girl, and the next he was falling headfirst into the bath. It was deeper than he'd expected, and very warm. He emerged seconds later, spluttering in shock, when his eardrums were very nearly shattered by a high-pitched, terrified screaming.

"Potter!" Daphne bellowed, her eyes bulging. "What the fuck!"

"Ah," said Harry, unsure how he was going to get out of this mess. He didn't want her thinking he was a pervert, even if she would be correct, and so he tried to explain. "I was already here when you came in."

Thankfully, Daphne had stopped screaming. She was now looking at him in disbelief. "If that's true, why didn't you say anything the moment you saw me?"

"I was sleeping," said Harry.

Daphne goggled at him. "Sleeping? I would've seen you!"

"I was hidden," said Harry, raising his sodden invisibility cloak from the depths of the small swimming pool.

Daphne's eyes flashed. "Don't give me that shit, Potter. You've been spying on me." She must have realised what that meant because she crossed her arms over her chest, where a deep flush was creeping up towards her neck.

"It's not as if I could even see anything, anyway," said Harry, disappointed. "Not with all these bloody bubbles in the way."

"You were spying on me," Daphne said triumphantly.

Harry realised she'd caught him out, and simply shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

"Yes!"

"Any chance you can keep this to yourself?" Harry asked mildly, wincing at the thought of Hermione finding out. He'd never hear the end of it.

A calculating look entered Daphne's eyes. "Why should I keep my silence? What's in it for me, Potter?"

"If you want, I'll strip down to my birthday suit as well?" Harry smiled cockily. "It would even the playing field, so to speak."

"I thought you couldn't see anything through the bubbles?"

"I can't," said Harry, peering at her through narrowed eyes. "Nope, there's nothing to be seen. But that doesn't mean it has to stay that way, does it?"

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, Potter? You want to buy my silence by fucking me?"

"Yes," Harry said with a succinct nod.

"I see nothing in it for me," Daphne sniffed, and unintentionally removed her arms from her breasts, shocking Harry into a somewhat of a momentary stupor. "I tell you what – if you strip off for me, I'll inspect what you've got to offer. If I'm impressed, I might just agree to your offer."

"Would you be offended if I said I think I'm in love with you?" said Harry, reverently.

Daphne's nose wrinkled. "That's not the way to get into my knickers."

"You're not wearing any."

"I'm still offended."

"Then prepare to be dazzled – nay, shocked speechless!" Harry pushed himself out of the bath, ripped his robe away, and eventually stood there in all his naked glory. He contemplated striking a pose, but settled for crossing his arms over his stomach instead; after all, he didn't want Daphne to be too star struck around him.

"I find myself … unimpressed," Daphne said, although the intensity in her gaze spoke otherwise.

"What? You've got to be kidding me!"

Daphne raised herself out of the water. She stood there on the edge of the bath dripping wet, completely unabashed. Harry's mouth went dry, and then it felt like every last ounce of blood in his body rushed south.

"Now, that's far more impressive," Daphne said, licking her lips, her eyes fixed on his groin. She walked forward, agonisingly slowly, until she stood as close to him as possible without their bare skin touching. "Hmm – how much do you want it, Potter?"

Harry's eye twitched as he tried to hold her stare. "I'd sell my soul," he said, and at that moment he had no doubt that he would.

Daphne raised her hand, brushing her fingers over his stomach. She inched closer, so close that a part of him was only millimetres from touching her stomach. But then she stepped back, raised her head to put her nose in the air, and primly announced, "You know I'm not going to fuck you, don't you? I'm not that type of girl."

Harry felt like jumping into the bath and never resurfacing. He noticed Daphne was watching him carefully, waiting for a reaction. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him beg – not yet, at least.

"Of course not," he said, shrugging like it was nothing. "I mean, a girl like you wouldn't dream of standing in front of a boy completely naked, would you?"

"I'd be ever so embarrassed," said Daphne, demurely. She had contorted her body to be as small as possible, making herself appear deeply shy. Harry marvelled at her acting skills.

"I suppose, then, that a girl like you would be completely opposed to having even a sip of alcohol?"

"It's the devil's water," said Daphne.

Harry removed a bottle of firewhisky from the folds of his robes. He kept a bottle there for emergencies, for times like these.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" asked Harry, sipping straight from the bottle.

Daphne dropped the act simply by holding out her hand. Harry passed her the bottle, and she took a long drink.

"So tell me," said Harry. "What's a good girl like you doing out of bed at three in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep," said Daphne, lowering herself back into the water.

Harry grinned as he joined her in the bath, taking back his bottle. "I know a very good remedy for insomnia."

"Is that right?" Daphne laughed, making her boobs jiggle, which drew Harry's attention to them. "I suppose you're going to say sex?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"I suppose …" Daphne bit her lip. "I mean, I am very, very wide awake."

"I've never been more awake," Harry said.

"But I'm not really in the mood," Daphne announced, and then dunked her head under the water. She emerged right in front of Harry, draping her arms over his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist "You're poking me, Potter."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Harry. With Daphne in his arms, he moved over to the side of the bath to retrieve his wand. "You're not in the mood, you said?"

"Not in the slightest," said Daphne, although Harry was now fairly confident she was lying.

"In that case …" Harry flicked his wand, and then leaned back to watch the results of his non-verbal spell.

Daphne frowned. "What did you— Oh!" Her whole body stiffened against him, and then her head fell onto his shoulder as she thrashed about in his arms. "Fuck me, Potter."

"I didn't think you were in the mood?"

Daphne growled at him from deep in her throat. "If you don't stick that thing in me, I'll chop it off."

Harry promptly did what he was told.

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year arrived earlier than usual. This was because more dates had been added to the calendar, owing to the fact imminent danger wasn't lurking around the corner in light of Voldemort's defeat. Students of age were also now allowed to visit the village on any weekend, something Harry had missed, but was planning on taking complete advantage of.

The morning started off like any other. Ron had woken up early, checked to see Harry hadn't wandered off in the middle of the night again, and then, after his usual morning routine, went down to meet Hermione for breakfast.

"Harry's still sleeping?" asked Hermione, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "In his own bed, I mean?"

"Yeah," Ron told her.

Not very long ago Harry had caused a complete panic by going missing, only to eventually be discovered in the prefects' bathroom, curled up against a mountain of fluffy white towels and cuddling an empty bottle of firewhisky. Every morning since then Ron had checked on his best friend. Harry hadn't disappeared again since, but Ron couldn't help thinking it was only a matter of time before he did.

There was a buzz of excited conversation going around the Great Hall, most of it coming from the third-years. Apart from a few pureblood and half-blood students, most of them had never been to the village, and Ron envied them. While he still loved going to the village, it was mostly because it meant getting a break from schoolwork. Although his attitude was changing somewhat towards his grades, it didn't mean a short break wouldn't be a good thing.

"Is there anything you need to buy in the village?" Ron asked Hermione through a lingering yawn.

Hermione shook her head. "I always try to pack enough spares to last me through the year, and as this is the earliest we've ever visited Hogsmeade, there isn't anything I need." She plucked a piece of toast from the stack in the middle of the table. "You're not running short of stationary yet are you?"

"I need some new quills," said Ron, making a face. "Harry stole all the ones I bought in the summer. I walked into the dormitory the other day to see him throwing them at the wall."

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Homemade darts," said Ron, shaking his head. "He conjured a target and stuck it to the wall."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "If he conjured a dartboard, why didn't he conjure darts to go with it?"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, then realised he didn't know. "That's a good question. Who knows why Harry does anything these days?"

Hermione patted his hand over the table, as she nibbled on her toast. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand him again."

"Although, I actually do know why he's trying to get us all to join him for a darts tournament tonight," said Ron, remembering the conversation they'd had a few nights ago. "He said he wants to create the coolest dormitory Hogwarts has ever seen. We've already got a pool table, and now a dartboard. He's planning on building a bar next; he's just trying to work out where it can go. I'm expecting him to throw me out just so he can create enough room." Ron wisely left out the part about a stripper pole. Harry had wondered aloud if Hermione would be interested in putting on a show for them.

"Do you know if he's coming to the village with us?" Hermione asked. "Or is he going with Parvati?"

"I dunno," said Ron, shrugging. "I haven't seen Parvati up in our room for a while. And every time I've asked Harry what he's doing today, he's just laughed and wandered off, muttering about needing to take more baths." Ron noticed Parvati walking into the Hall, Lavender by her side. They were followed by Seamus and Dean.

Hermione followed where Ron was looking. "Harry still hasn't mentioned her to you?" she asked. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope," said Ron, piling bacon and eggs onto his plate. Hermione was referring to the night they had overheard Parvati in an abandoned classroom. Harry hadn't spoken a word about it since that night, and he and Parvati hadn't been seen together since. "Every time I ask him, he starts complaining that his dreams of a threesome are over."

Ron sipped his pumpkin juice, pondering. Harry and Parvati were acting perfectly normal every time they saw each other, whether in class or the common room, which made it completely abnormal. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other for a week, or tongues out of each other's mouths, much to the disgust of all the other students – so what had changed? Ron would normally put it down to the fact that they had both slept with other people, but that wasn't the case with those two. They had wanted to be able to see other people.

The man himself chose that moment to saunter into the Hall. As it was a weekend, Harry wasn't wearing the school uniform; instead, he had opted for a dirty leather jacket that looked older than him. Ron a sneaking suspicion it was older than Harry, because Ron was pretty sure he had seen Sirius wearing it a few years ago.

"Good morning," said Harry brightly, flopping onto the bench next to Hermione.

"Any particular reason you're in such a good mood?" asked Hermione, eyeing him warily.

"It's a beautiful day, Hermione," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and then started making a sandwich.

"Come on, mate," said Ron, trying not to think too negatively. "You can tell us."

"If you must know, I've got a date," Harry told them smugly.

Ron's stomach dropped. He wasn't too sure he liked the smile that appeared on Harry's face. He was filled with a dread similar to the time he heard Ginny had been taken down to the Chamber of Secrets. Normally, Harry was only too happy to brag about girls – so why hadn't he about his date?

"Who is she, then?" asked Hermione, looking as worried as Ron.

"That," said Harry, pointing his half-eaten sandwich at them, "would be telling."

"Give us something, Harry," said Ron, hoping Harry's vanity would win out over his sudden secrecy.

"If you insist," said Harry, leaning forward. "Put it this way, Ron: if you want your innocent eyes to stay that way, I suggest you find somewhere else to sleep tonight."

Ron rolled his (innocent) eyes. "I suppose she won't be able to resist your roguish good looks, natural charm, and humungous coc—"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, scarlet-faced. "Harry, please just tell us who it is."

"Fine! It's Ginny!"

"What!" Ron gasped.

Harry cackled, but then his eyes locked on to something across the Hall. "Here she comes now," he said, sounding almost as if he was in love. Then again, Harry sounded like that when talking building his bar, the new porn magazine he'd purchased by owl order, and the picture of Seamus's mother he'd found.

Ron swung around on the bench, but could only see Daphne Greengrass walking towards them. His stomach dropped for the second time in the space of a few minutes. Then, Daphne stopped at their table, and Ron felt his heart collide with his voice box and become lodged in his throat. Daphne looked like one of those girls in Harry's new porn magazine: blonde, tanned, too beautiful to simply be called pretty, and she knew she had it, whatever it actually was. She smiled a dazzling smile, showing off perfect white teeth, and spoke in a voice that could make any man do her bidding.

"I've booked us a table in a restaurant just off the main street," she said to Harry. "It's far too expensive for most students, so we should be out of sight from prying eyes. I assume you can pay for it?"

"It's funny you should ask that," said Harry, eyes twinkling. "I received a letter just the other day, from the manager of the restaurant, no less. He said it would be his honour for me to grace his restaurant with my presence, and we would dine for free."

"I suddenly feel that you would be a very useful person to know," said Daphne, linking her arm with Harry's and walking out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Hermione to stare at their backs.

Ron turned to Hermione in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how expensive that place can be? Most students don't even know about it, and he's eating there for free!"

"Can we just go a day without Harry baffling us somehow?" pleaded Hermione. "You and I can go in to the village and enjoy ourselves without worrying about what he's going to do or say next. He's a big boy; he can handle himself."

The visit to the village started off normally. The first stop was to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop to restock Ron's quills, and while they were there Hermione couldn't resist purchasing a new phoenix feather quill, despite its ludicrous price. Afterwards, Ron couldn't say no to a quick visit to Honeydukes Sweetshop, where he bought enough boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to last until the next visit. Unsurprisingly, Hermione didn't spend a Knut in the sweetshop. From there, they decided to wander around the village to make the most of the dry (if slightly chilly) weather. Ron was devastated to see Zonko's Joke Shop had closed.

"Don't worry," said Hermione in exasperation, pointing towards a notice on the boarded up front door. She peered closer and read, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is proud to announce the grand opening of our Hogsmeade branch is scheduled for November 23, midday. By happy coincidence, Hogwarts students will be visiting the village that weekend. One free item per student. All welcome, except Draco Malfoy."

"Knowing those two, they'll make me pay for the free item," said Ron glumly.

"Shall we go to The Three Broomsticks, then?" asked Hermione, appearing not to hear him.

They fell in to step and headed back down the village, towards the nicer of the two pubs in the village. Just as they passed an alleyway, Harry came bolting of it, naked from the waist up and holding his trousers with his hands to stop them from falling down. A second later Daphne followed him; her feet were bare, her cheeks a furious red, and her hair, usually without a strand out of place, now resembled something closer to Harry's. Despite their state of undress, they were both laughing their heads off.

Ron wished he could say he hadn't expected to see Harry naked today; sadly, it was becoming a disturbingly common occurrence.

"Can't speak now!" Harry called over his shoulder as he grabbed Daphne's hand, while still running. "I'll explain everything later!"

A man in formal robes came running out of the alley, panting heavily. "You!" he said, pointing a trembling finger at Ron. "Have you seen Potter?"

"No," said Ron instantly.

"May I ask why you're looking for him?" asked Hermione delicately, her voice several notches higher than usual.

The man grimaced. "I caught the little git in the bathroom with his date," he growled, and seemed particularly green in the face when he added, "I've never seen such a pale arse."

Ron felt he could sympathise.

"If we see him, would you like us to give him a message?" asked Hermione.

"Tell him if he ever sets foot in my restaurant again, Lord Voldemort's worst spell will feel like a tickle compared to what I'll do to him!" thundered the restaurant owner, and then he turned and stormed back down the alley.

"He was probably the nicest guy you could ever hope to meet," said Ron, sighing. "And then he met Harry."