Loonar

I can cover the marks in the morning. Some foundation dabbed on and they're practically invisible.

That doesn't mean they're gone and I keep catching myself running my fingertips over the back of my hand, the letters have risen a little. I lie to my friends, as Harry has been to most people. I'm not one hundred percent sure why I bother, but I tell them all that Harry and I simply sat there for several hours doing lines.

Harry thanks me for it at breakfast, low and mumbled over scrambled eggs. Hermione catches me after, clutches at my fingers and shakes her head. We have very much the same conversation Harry and I had the previous evening, but this time I take the defensive stance. “I just don't get it.”

“We need to get rid of her.” Hermione pulls a face, this is an obvious statement and she bites her lower lip. “She has the Ministry behind her, and I'm not sure...” Her shoulders slump, but she soon catches my gaze and pulls herself up to her full height. “I'm sure we'll think of something.” I crouch slightly, tugging her with me as Peeves whizzes past, the echo of Filch's yell bounces off the walls.

“We should go a different way.” She agrees instantly, and we take a far longer walk back towards the Common Room. The additional times allows me to hear much more of her 'pro-elf spiel' than I had done over the last few days since it had started up for the second year running.

I got it, completely. I was just a little unsure what she intended to do by herself, although I had offered her the joining fee and my help nearly a year ago. “Nothing just happens, someone always has to start it. I start S.P.E.W and you never know.”

“It's hard to fight their way of life though. I know Dobby is an exception, but Kreacher, and that other one you met at the World Cup...”

“Winky.”

She ignores my murmur about just how ridiculous a name that is. “Yeah well, her and Kreacher... they like it, don't they?”

“They only 'like' it because it's all they know. They've essentially been brainwashed to accept that...”

I let her go on, her hand movements becoming more violent she grew agitated. “My point is..” I cut across when she took a moment to breathe, “You tricking them into being free by hiding..”

“It's not a trick.” She flushes as she lies, well aware of exactly what she is doing. “It's...”

“It's a trick Hermione, however you look at it.” It comes out harsher than I intend, and her cheeks continue to redden. Her pace increases and I hang back a moment, let her storm off a few steps ahead of me. Looks like it wasn't just me who was in an awful mood lately.

I dither to the common room, planning to try and make the most of the weather and head outside. Ryan had been sneaking sausages out of breakfast for the last couple of days to try and feed the giant squid with. Smothering a yawn I enter, it's half empty, which isn't too surprising. Some people take their lay-ins seriously and skip breakfast. Others are out of the castle as soon as the sun permits. Leanne and Aaron are sat in two hardback chairs, speaking lowly to one another. No doubt it's about one of us, and I catch Aaron's eyes as they lift and the conversation very quickly ends.

Leanne has a better poker face, but it's transparent who they had been discussing. I can't even think why and smile at them as if I have no idea in the slightest. It's much easier that way. I don't head over there though, already done with today but I'm not alone for long.

Just as I'm about to head up to the girl's dormitories and make some half-arsed apology to Hermione, a familiar lanky body appears. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To grovel to Hermione,” I explain quickly about our disagreement. “What are you up to?” I ask instead when he gives me the necessary tips for buttering Hermione up. “Hogsmeade, remember?” I do, pretend that my fury and horror at Dolores Umbridge hadn't overshadowed it. “You still want to go?” He looks so eager that I cannot turn him down, I agree, ask for ten minutes to speak to Hermione and another five to get myself ready. He pulls the typical boy face at this, muttering about how I look fine as it is.

I grin at this, properly, and feel a little lighter. “Fifteen minutes tops. You have a list?”

“Aye Captain.”

I'd made up with Hermione in record time. Although it was going to cost me an evening of helping her bewitch her knitting needles. It was easy then, I changed into clothes better acquainted with crawling into hidden tunnels and met George in the common room. There was still no Fred, apparently, he was busy elsewhere but George had an expression on his face I didn't totally buy. It didn't really matter, I didn't often spend much time with George by himself, and it didn't take long for those odd little butterflies to make a reappearance.

I don't know what it is. I catch myself trying to work it out as we head towards Honeydukes. I have to duck at several points and George spends the entire time hunched forward like Quasimodo. When I point this out to him I'm struck, as usual, by just how sheltered they have all been from most things Muggle. I explain the story briefly, and to give him his due he listens, although he doesn't seem interested. “You should tell it to the Ghoul in our attic, bet he'd like it.”

“Oh yeah,” I sing, “Because he's really into bedtime stories isn't he?”

We'd had a bit of bother getting to the statue, for some reason Snape and Professor Flitwick had decided to hover around that area chatting about something or other. I'd been suspicious, George less so. He was still convinced that only a handful of people knew about the passage. It still allowed me to bring up a somewhat familiar argument, why had they given Harry the Marauders Map? It seemed like a loss, almost two years later.

“I'm hardly going to ask for it back when he gave us his prize money am I?” That shuts me up, and I pull a face at him, dodging him trying to pinch my cheek. We carry on like this until the familiar ladder comes into view. “Ladies first,” he bows lowly, ducking out of my way. Thankfully, as I gently push up the trap door, the storeroom is deserted and we manage to slip out a couple of minutes later. “Ah, Hogsmeade,” he takes a comically large breath once we're outside.

“Ah,” I mimic his tone, “Let's make not it obvious that we should be at school. Act like an adult...” I wait, before adding, “For once.”

His chest swells, and he does such a good impression of Percy I laugh much louder than intended. Unfortunately, everything else to do with his brother slips through and his expression falls. I have never understood Percy, not really. Ambitious to a fault sure, intelligent and very aware of it, yes. But his lack of respect for his family, his willingness to just drop them aside. I shake my head, if I feel this much anger thinking about him how must a younger brother feel? “Come on, let's get what you need and head back.” I take the few steps over and link our arms, ignoring how much I enjoy the feeling.

He takes a moment but soon perks up, and we head into Zonko's. It's weird to see the shop so quiet, and I can only imagine just how important our day visits are as a school. We must keep half of the town afloat. “When is the next proper visit?” I whisper as the shop assistant goes to the back to grab him something. “Couple of weeks I think.” He responds, exploring some exploding bonbons. I lose him for several, long minutes as he chats with the woman working here.

Instead, I fiddle with several bits by the door. Feeling a prickling of jealousy this time that I instantly berate myself for. It's so stupid, George has never been anything to me but George. I mean, sure, both of the twins were fairly good looking, especially now they were essentially grown men. They formed quite a little mix of Charlie and Bill if I thought about it. But I wasn't. This would run its course surely. I hadn't been in a relationship since Eddie and that had ended before the holidays, maybe this was some form of desperate...

“You're going to set that on fire if you stare at it any harder.” I blink back, George staring at me in turn and a big smile on his face. “Sorry, daydreaming.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What were you thinking about?” I go to mumble some excuse before he hits the nail on the head, “How beautiful I am?”

“Oh, yeah.” I cough out a laugh, “That's all I ever think about.” He pouts, but leaves it alone, leading me out of the shop. It's a bit chillier now and starting to spit with rain. “What time is it?” I yawn at him, smother my mouth with my wrist. “We should head back soonish, and now you've made me tired.” I apologise sarcastically and we waste a bit more time in Hogsmeade, spending an unreasonable amount of galleons, in my case, on sweets. I clutch a bag tight, and George shoves handfuls into deep pockets. “Crap,” I blurt suddenly, “I meant to go in Gladrags. Is that okay?”

“No.” Even with his face perfectly blank it's clear he's joking but I rush anyway, and it's not long before we're back underground. I'm shoving a sugar quill into my mouth as we go and winding George up with a song he can't stand.

“I don’t like it.” I shake my head barely illuminated in the thin underground tunnel.

“It’s such a good song though.”

“You sang it pretty much every day in the summer, now... don’t get me wrong. I liked it at first but... well...” He grimaces at me, filling the silence by snatching one of my sweet and shoving it past his teeth. “You're no Celestina Warbeck.” I scoff.

“At least I don’t make a fool of myself at every welcome feast like you and Fred.” He just grins, shuffling slightly so I was just in front of him as the passage narrows even more, my back just inches from his chest.

“Me and Fred do not make fools of ourselves. We are perfect in every way.” He declares.

“Now, I know Molly isn't filling your head with that rubbish!” I squeal as his nails dig into either side of my waist, my arm flinging sideways from the contact and scraping against the hard stone, causing me to wince.

“Oww, George!” I complain childishly as we reach the end of the tunnel, the hump of the statue coming into view. I stop; twisting my arm awkwardly until he can see the tiny scratches, “Look what you made me do. You nasty man, you.” He rolls his eyes. “Make it better.” My voice is whiny.

“You are so annoying.” I pout at the scowl that greets me, and he finally stands still, pulling a face that reminded me instantly of his mother scolding me one time during fourth year.

“You want me to kiss it better?” I nod, and very quickly, that feeling in my gut returns. I'm pushing it, I know that. He drops eye contact and rather than catching my elbow, which is held up to him he presses his lips against my forehead. The skin feels hot where he's touched and George moves away slightly as if leaving an appropriate amount of space between us.

His gaze lands on the witch, “I'll go first,” he sounds awkward himself, “Make sure it's safe.” He reaches the hump, murmurs dissendium and clambers through, a hand appearing that I grab. His palm is slightly moist. He helps me scramble through and look as innocent as possible when we pass Professor Umbridge further along the corridor. “And where have you two been?” My bag is behind my back, and I let George answer, feeling my mouth dry just at the sight of her. Her piggy eyes narrow but she wanders off, kitten heels tapping on the stone. “She's awful, isn't she?” I can't respond, feeling a burn that isn't there on the back of my hand.

The next two weeks pass normally. Well, as normal as Hogwarts seems to go. I keep my temper with Umbridge, and miraculously, so does Harry. Most of my time seems to be spent with my head buried in different textbooks, parchments upon parchments of essays. That was one major complaint from lessons, the sheer amount of work seemed to have at least doubled from last year. Never mind the fact half of our lessons were expected to be nonverbal now.

Ryan particularly enjoys grumbling about this, and he's gotten really good at mouthing spells. In truth, things had almost been boring. The most exciting thing to happen was that Dale had managed to walk into a thestral, who had retaliated with a harsh kick in one of his care of magical creature lessons and had ended up on the Hospital Wing with several broken ribs for two days.

He'd found it quite funny, once the pain was sorted, but then, he couldn't see the thestrals. That in itself was a godsend. I'd give pretty much anything to be staring at the same seemingly free patch of air as most of the others. Aaron could see them, he'd been there as his Grandma had died when he was tiny. But the others were all gloriously ignorant.

I envied that. Especially when nightmares hit.

They did so, ever so often, maybe twice a month. But nightmares one day meant I would struggle to sleep the next. All in all, it often meant I had a few rough days. Everyone seemed fairly used to it now, Leanne would ask me the next morning why I looked so tired, and simply saying I'd had a bad dream kept her at bay. They didn't know the full story, only Katie. Plenty of times I wanted to tell them, but I didn't. I couldn't say why. I didn't like people thinking about her like that, I didn't want the pity. It was easier to tuck down most of the time. Regardless, after a nightmare, Leanne would tell the others and they'd be especially nice to me that day.

We were in that very position now, although thankfully it was finally the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow, and I was looking forward to it. I shifted, one of Leanne's legs draped over my knee. Snape had set us a truly awful piece of homework on Veritaserum and even Aaron was struggling, which left me nowhere. Dale prodded at him and he snapped, making Leanne's eyes widen a little. Aaron was perhaps the most level-headed person I knew, and him snapping was the equivalent of one of us screaming at another.

“Just wanted to remind you all its dinner.” Dale holds his hands up innocently, tossing down my charms book he'd been using as it was in a far better state than his own. “Definitely.” Ryan's stomach grumbles on cue, “Besides, I want to watch the quidditch practice after.”

We head down, squishing up in a gap. Hermione ends up on my left side, Ryan, elbows flying into me as he attempts to grab lasagne on my right. “You're still on for tomorrow, right?” She asks lowly, I catch Harry's eye and offer him a small smile. “Definitely.” He shoots me one back, before letting Ron drag him into Quidditch talk.

“He actually wants to do this?” I ask, not for the first time. She nods, hair nearly landing in her soup. “He does now, besides, tomorrow is just a conversation, nothing is set in stone yet.” I highly doubted that but agreed. The plan, at this stage, and from the muddled conversations Hermione and I kept having, was for Harry to see if people wanted to do Defense against the Dark Arts, properly.

She had mentioned Harry teaching some bits, I mean, who had more experience, real-world experience than Harry at this point? I'd agreed to come instantly, and so had the majority of the others I'd spoken to. Hermione was only aiming for a few people, but from rumours and suggestions, I imagined it may be a bigger group.

Katie, Ryan, Dale and I were going. Leanne and Aaron not. That had been an interesting conversation. Leanne was so paranoid about getting in trouble, and it damaging her Mothers position at the Ministry.

Either way, due to the bad weather neither Leanne nor Aaron had decided they were going to bother with the long walk and were going to make use of the nearly empty common room. Katie's expression at this poor excuse had been unusually cold.

I don't sleep well again.