What Would Broz Do

Simply Divine

"Right then," Harry asked, eyes slowly scanning the small group that sat around him in the Gryffindor common room, the dim light of the fire dancing off his glasses. "Who's next?"

A throng of hands jumped skyward in an instant. "Do me, do me!" A girly voice half-giggled, half-pleaded. Harry's head jolted to the source, to see Parvati bouncing at the edge of the small settee that she was sharing with Lavender and Ron – the latter who was sporting a grin to match Harry's own, his arm casually resting across the back of the seat as he pretended not to notice as Lavender occasionally scooted closer towards him.

"All right, Parvati – come here!" Harry replied, before turning to the small, dark-haired second-year witch who had been seated across from him. "Off you trot now, and remember – no cauldron cakes!"

The girl nodded with all the solemnity as if Harry had just passed on the meaning of life, before scooting back and scrambling towards the small knot of younger students who looked at her as if she'd redefined Gryffindor bravery: talking to a fifth year – and Harry Potter at that!

"What do you want – cards, balls, or hands?" Harry asked as the pretty Indian girl finished seating herself across from Harry.

"Hands," Parvati replied very quickly, a faint flush darkening her skin visible even in the flickering firelight.

Harry slowly leaned forward, taking Parvati's right hand out from her lap and rubbing the top of it with the ball of his thumb, politely ignoring both the shiver that ran through the girl as well as the overly loud tsk coming from a table at the back of the common room.

"You know, our Professor mentioned the other day that my tarot readings were getting a little sloppy. I really ought to stop practicing my palmistry and branch out-"

Harry gave Parvati a wink just as she took in a breath of air, ready to protest this enormous injustice.

"Buuuut, maybe that can wait until tomorrow, yeah? Now let's see. Oh! Strong line here – you're either going to have a very long life, or we need to have a word with Professor Sprout about the bloody Snapdragons."

Parvati's answering giggle almost covered up the very exasperated sounding hmph! from the back table.

Harry made a great show of studying Parvati's hand further, though this mostly seemed to consist of gently massaging it with his fingers while staring pensively and occasionally making a deep mumbling noise, as he rubbed small circles into her palm. She made no effort to hurry him along.

"Ohhh..." he said at last, doing his best to sound ominous. By the way Lavender leaned forward and a first year boy let out a very pathetic squeak, he supposed he succeeded well enough.

"What is it?" Parvati asked, sounding awfully breathy for a girl about to receive potentially dire news.

"Well..." Harry paused, and absolutely did not dare look at Ron for fear of losing it.

"What, Harry!?" Lavender asked, wiggling slightly closer to the aforementioned redhead whos fingers were now just tickling against her far shoulder.

"Three weeks from now," Harry began, doing his best to imitate Professor Trelawney's voice when she announced great doom was about to befall one her students – usually Harry.

"The signs from the aether suggest that great happiness lies in your near future." He dropped the spooky visage for an utterly shit-eating grin. "You must be going to Hogsmeade with me."

Squealing. Which only intensified when Ron leaned over and whispered something into Lavender's ear.

Harry made a show of reading the rest of Parvati's future for a bit, a combination of outrageous suggestions and inspiringly vague statements, interrupted occasionally by more giggles and titters and exclamations from Lavender and Parvati and a few of the younger girls. Five minutes later, he called it a night, claiming that he and Ron were 'inner-eyed out' for the evening but they'd do it again next week, to the delight of the assembled students.

Hermione was having an awful night. She had a Charms essay that while of the requisite length still didn't even touch on the four principles of emotionally charged magics nor any of the new theories coming out of the Sorcerer's School of Zurich about the addictive qualities of the same. A Transfiguration exam next Tuesday and Ancient Runes the day after...

… and yet every time she finally settled down and got into a rhythm, the girls would break out into another loud and high-pitched and simpering chorus at whatever foolishness Potter and Weasley had come out with next. Honestly. It was bad enough that Divination was such a wool-headed class to begin with, but that somehow, those two... two... two boys were the top students in that class, and how Brown and Patil hung onto their every word because of that.

It was an insult on top of injury, it really was. She knew for a fact that both boys were quite bright (though not as bright as she was, obviously). Potter did very well in Transfiguration and was – she admitted, grudgingly – head and shoulders above everyone including herself in Defense. And Weasley, when he put his mind to it, was more than capable. So if her dorm mates absolutely had to make besotted fools of themselves... why couldn't they at least do it for a reason that actually mattered!?

But no, they insisted on having their palms read or watching the two boys spout outrageous nonsense after gazing into a crystal ball.

It eventually reached a point that was so unbearable, the fifth time she was interrupted from her Charms essay, that she resolved that tonight she was at last going to do something about it. Her eyes flickered up to the small crowd surrounding the two boys. Something uncomfortable passed through her belly. But maybe... maybe she would do it when there was less of an audience.

Thankfully, despite 'calling it a night', the two boys stayed in the common room for a long time after, sitting in their corner of the room after they extracted themselves from their fan club and playing a half-hearted game of chess as they whispered to one another in hushed tones that every Gryffindor knew was protected by some sort of privacy spell. Occasionally an older student would stop by, wherein Potter would pull out a notebook and write something down while Weasley would say a few things and then give the other student a nod, before going back to their game.

At last, it was just the two boys left in the common room. As they started to pack up, Hermione steeled her nerves and half-walked, half-ran over to them.

"Potter, Weasley... a word, please."

The two boys looked at one another for a second, then turned to her, polite smiles affixed to their faces.

"Yes, Hermione?" Potter said, voice slightly airy.

"I want to ask- that is to say... Why do you do that?!" she finished at last, frustration visible in her words.

Weasley's eyebrows did that thing. "Do what? Play chess?"

"No! Earlier, when you... You know that Divination is nonsense! Just because you're the class favorites-"

"Oi!" Weasley interrupted, looking offended. "Worked bloody hard for that spot, I'll have you know. Wasn't easy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it's very difficult to come up with the most absurd, asinine , unbelievable thing you can possibly think of every single day." She paused, before glaring at Potter. "Or using it to pick up girls for a Hogsmeade weekend with some cheesy line."

"Cheesy!" Ron burst out. "Inspired, more like!"

Potter looked at her for a moment, those piercing green eyes. Idly, she wondered if he had charmed his glasses in some way so as to make them appear more vibrant. She felt her face heat up when she looked away. It felt like she'd lost something, but that was insane.

"I predicted that Buckbeak would escape," Potter said at last, voice hushed and crisp. "My third year exam – I saw that he would get away free. Professor Trelawney said it was a good effort but I was seeing with my heart not my inner eye." Potter suddenly looked unbearably smug. "Mind you, I got an O by the time grades came out."

Hermione's eyes bugged. "Oh."

Oh! Surely she was more eloquent than that!

"I see," she said after a pause. "Well, um... even so that's not the same thing as telling Vane to avoid cauldron cakes!"

Potter shrugged and Weasley snickered.

"And... and predicting that Professor Snape will one day get the Defense job and the curse will finish him off – that's just gratuitous wish fulfillment for about half our house," she finished, turning towards Weasley.

"More than half," Potter grumbled.

"Oh, it'll happen – mark my words," the redheaded boy retorted in a voice that suggested he'd be willing to beg Merlin himself for it to actually happen.

"That's exactly what I'm taking abou- oh never mind! You two are incorrigible!" Firm of purpose and sure of foot, she turned around, stopping only to collect her bag from her table before marching towards the stairs to her dormitory, hoping that when she arrived she wouldn't have to listen to her dorm mates swoon over the two boys she'd just departed.