Dreams Are Falling Short

Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Fred and I carried on with our fake relationship, and Hermione was now in on the deal too, which made it easier for me to deal with it all. I pushed down all my feeble feelings for Fred, knowing that he would never truly requite them.
The trial for the Gryffindor Keeper was hard, and painful to endure. There were a lot of really awful players, but it gave me a chance to practice; for I was one of the three Chasers. The twins and I didn’t really do much the whole trial, though, just joked and messed around like we always did.

“Harry, I did it, I’m in; I’m Keeper!”

Ron had run at Harry as soon as he’d come through the portrait hole, slopping his goblet of Butterbeer down his front.

“What? Oh – brilliant!” said Harry, smiling.

“Have a Butterbeer.” Ron pressed a bottle at him. “I can’t believe it – where’s Hermione gone?”

“She’s there,” said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

“Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.

“Let her sleep,” said George hastily. (We had just tested our Nose-Bleed Nuggets)

“Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver’s old robes fit you,” called Katie Bell, “we can take off his name and put yours on instead.”

As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry, instantly claiming his full attention.

“Well, at least the season is bound to be interesting this year, isn’t it?” I said, swinging my Butterbeer bottle up so I could get the last drops.

“If by interesting, you mean a disaster, then yes,” George said.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Blondie, but he’s not the greatest,” Fred added.

“Well aren’t you guys the best big brothers ever?” I said sarcastically, before holding up my bottle. “I’m going to grab another, do you guys want one?”

I came back with four new bottles of Butterbeer, and George, Fred and Lee tried to juggle our empty ones, causing me to laugh a lot at their failed attempts. Everyone was having a great time, glad that we’d found a Keeper.

“Ron may have been chosen, but you’ll always be a Keeper to me,” Fred said in my ear, wrapping his arms around my middle from behind me.

“You’re incredibly cheesy, Mr Weasley,” I said, twirling in his arms.

“If you’re going to do anything more, please get a room,” George said.

“If you insist,” said Fred, taking my hand and starting to walk to towards the stairs leading up to the boys’ dormitory.

“We’re not doing this again are we?” I whispered.

“Not at all,” Fred said. “This is completely innocent.”

We made it all the way up to the seventh year dorm, and I stopped a moment to appreciate the view from the window outside the door. The forbidden forest was ridiculously alluring and the lake looked beautiful with the moon reflecting off of it. I felt on top of the world from up here, for this was probably the highest point of Hogwarts Castle.

Fred was waiting patiently at the door, which he held open for me. I smiled at him and walked into the room. The boys’ dorm wasn’t as messy as it had been in their third year, but I suppose it was only start of term and they hadn’t been back for very long.

“I’m sick of this already,” Fred said, falling onto his bed (which was directly opposite the door).

“It hasn’t even been a week,” I reminded him gently.

“I know,” he let out a sigh and held his arms open. “Come here.”

I walked over to his bed, kicking off my shoes, before curling up on his bed beside him. We stayed quiet for a while, just thinking. Eventually, I rolled onto my stomach and looked at Fred.

“What are we going to do?”

“About what?” he looked genuinely confused.

“About this,” I made a motion between the two of us. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” Fred admitted. “We’re having fun.”

“I don’t know if I can stand lying to everyone though – not to George, anyway.”

“It’s not going to last long,” there was something in his voice that I couldn’t read, but it pulled at my heart strings. “It was just to get the rumour ball rolling, wasn’t it? To give everyone something to talk over.”

“I suppose,” I said. I wanted to ask him so many things – did this mean anything? Did he really like me? – but instead, I hesitated before asking, “Am I staying in here tonight?”

“You probably should,” Fred said, propping himself up with his elbows. “I mean, if you want.”

Without a word, I got up. I made my way to the trunk at the end of his bed, looking into its contents. It was messy and not at all organised, but really, what had I expected. I rummaged through its content for a moment, trying to find something.

“What’re you doing?”

I smiled as I found a shirt and a pair of boxers. I looked up at Fred smiling, before turning around and taking my shirt off. I shivered as I quickly pulled Fred’s shirt on – the short sleeves reaching my elbows. After putting on the boxers, I turned around.

“Oh, are you staying, are you love?” Lee had just walked in and looked me up and down.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you lot.” It was more of a statement then a question, for I knew that they really wouldn’t care.

I crawled into Fred’s bed, putting my head on his chest and we crammed ourselves close together on the small bed, again.

“I love you.”

It was as if he was actually my brother and I didn’t have any feelings for him what-so-ever. It was as if he was George, and he was telling me he loved me before we went to sleep. It wasn’t in any way a “I’m-in-love-with-you” I love you – strictly sibling a I love you.

“I love you too.”

-

“Morning,” Harry said brightly to Hermione, Ron and I as he joined us at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“What are you looking so please about?” I said, eyeing Harry in surprise.

“Erm... Quidditch later,” said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.
“Oh... yeah...” said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, “Listen... you two don’t fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to – er – give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit.”

“Yeah, OK,” said Harry.

“Look, I don’t think you should,” said Hermione seriously. “You’re both really behind on homework as it –“

But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.

“Anything interesting?” said Ron. I grinned, knowing Ron was keen to keep her off the subject of homework. I, along with Hermione, was completely up-to-date with my homework, though I still wasn't sure how I’d managed to do it.

“No,” she sighed, “just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sister getting married.”

Hermione opened the paper and disappeared behind it. I devoted myself to another helping of bacon, though I avoided the eggs, for they didn’t agree with me. Ron was staring up at the high windows, looking slightly preoccupied.

“Wait a moment,” said Hermione suddenly. “Oh no... Sirius!”

“What’s happened?” said Harry, snatching at the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with him and Hermione each holding one half.

“’The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murder... blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!’” Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.

“Lucius Malfoy, I’ll bet anything,” said Harry in a low, furious voice. “He did recognise Sirius on the platform...”

“What?” said Ron, looking alarmed. “You didn't say –“

“Shh!” Harry, Hermione and I said.

“...’Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous... killed thirteen people... broke out of Azkaban...’ the usual rubbish,” Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry, Ron and I. “Well, he just won’t be able to leave the house again, that’s all,” she whispered. “Dumbledore did warn him not to.”

I looked down at the half of the Prophet which Harry had torn off. Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement of Madam Malkin’s Robes of All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.

“Hey!” I said, flattening it down so all four of us could see it. “Look at this!”

“I’ve got all the robes I want,” said Ron.

“No, you twat,” I said. “Look... this little piece here...”

Ron, Harry and Hermione bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed right at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:

‘TRESPASS AT MINISTRY
Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o’clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentences to six months in Azkaban.’

“Sturgis Podmore?” said Ron slowly. “He’s that bloke who looks like his head’s been thatched, isn’t he?”he’s one of the Ord-“

“Ron, shh!” said Hermione, casting a terrified look around us.

“Six months in Azkaban!” whispered Harry, shocked. “Just for trying to get through a door!”

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o’clock in the morning?” I said.

“D’you reckon he was doing something for the Order?” Ron muttered.

“Wait a moment...” said Harry slowly. “Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?”
We looked at him.

“Yeah, he was suppose to be part of our guard going to King’s Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn’t turn up; so he couldn’t have been on a job for them, could he?”
“Well, maybe they didn’t expect him to get caught,” said Hermione.

“It could be a frame-up!” Ron exclaimed excitedly. “No – listen!” he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione’s voice. “The Ministry suspects he’s one of Dumbledore’s lot so – I dunno – they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn’t trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they’re just made something up to get him!”

Here was a pause while Harry, Hermione and I considered this. I thought it was rather far-fetched. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed.

“Do you know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that were true.”

She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. As Harry laid down his knife and fork, she seemed to come out of a reverie.

“Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilising shrubs first and if we’re lucky we’ll be able to start McGonagall’s Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch...”

The sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and I was aching to get back on my Firebolt, so two essays didn’t really seem all that important.

“I mean, we can do it tonight,” said Ron, as the three of us walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, our broomsticks over our shoulders, and with Hermione’s dire warnings that we would fail all our OWLs still ringing in our ears. “And we’ve got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that’s her trouble...” There was a pause and he added, in a slightly more anxious tone, “D’you think she meat it when she said we weren’t copying from her?”

“Yeah, I do, but if you’re good, I’ll let you copy mine” I said.

“Still, this is important, too, we’ve got to practise if we want to stay on the Quidditch team...” said Harry.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Ron in a heartened tone. “And we have got plenty of time to do it all...”