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Lightkin
I'm from Ravenclaw.
I didn't write this fanfic; it's by ModestyRabnott. I just finished reading New Moon by Stephenie Meyer and I think Twilight fans will like this. No vampires, though.

Summary: Ron and Hermione stumble upon something intriguing during their last Prefect Duty aboard the Hogwarts Express, as they return home right after Dumbledore's funeral.




I’m a planner by nature. I am at my best when I have a strategy in place. When faced with a predicament, I consider my options, evaluate them, and map out a sound plan for moving forward. It’s what I do.

So it’s no wonder that I’m feeling so lost right now. There is no comfort to be had in making plans, developing tactics, when they have no context. We don’t know what lies ahead for us. We’ve pledged ourselves, Ron and I, to be by Harry’s side in the coming months. But we don’t know what that means.

In the best of all my possible scenarios, something miraculous will happen this summer and we’ll all be back here at school this September. The boys can enjoy their last year of Quidditch while I nag them all year about revising for N.E.W.T.s.

But we don’t know if school will reopen. Or if it does, whether we’ll be here. So, you see my frustration. No planning. Only wondering.

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice breaks into my thoughts and brings me back into the present, where we all sit in a quiet compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Each of us, no doubt, unsure about what will happen next. Ron is unusually quiet, staring out the window. Neville busies himself with some Herbology book, but I notice he’s been on the same page for the last twenty minutes. Ginny sits near the compartment door, fiddling with her robe hem and surreptitiously stealing glances at Harry, who seems anywhere but here. Which is why his inquiry surprises me.

“Yes, Harry?” I ask, thankful for the diversion.

“Didn’t you say you and Ron had Prefect Duty?” Oh, Merlin. I can’t believe I’d actually forgotten.

“Oh! Yes. Ron, we’re going to be late. Thanks, Harry.” I grab my wand and stuff it into my robes, making for the door. I notice Ron’s reluctance to get up, and press, “Come on, Ron, it’s only one more time, for heaven’s sake.”

And truly, this is what’s on my mind and Ron and I take our leave from the compartment and set out to do our patrols. When I said one last time, I meant for the school year, but then the double meaning hit me. This may very well be our last time doing Prefect Duty ever.

I can’t believe how much the finality of that effects me, and I feel the compression in my chest as I remember when we got the badges almost two years ago. I remember a great deal about it.

I remember seeing my badge tumble out of my letter onto my bed at Number Twelve.

I remember being surprised at how heavy it was, for its size.

I remember - with shame - that I was shocked to learn that Ron was chosen over Harry. It was unexpected by everyone, and I wished later that I had been the only one to expect it. That might have meant something. Set me apart?

Immediately, though, I secretly began to rejoice that it was Ron. For the first time, Ron and I would share something that was just ours. At that stage of our friendship, we had very little between us that was separate from our connection to Harry. A small part of me hoped that maybe sharing Prefect status might finally afford us the opportunity to be alone together. To figure out exactly what it was (is?) between us that causes my heart to swell with longing one minute and then makes me want to strangle him in the next.

But that day seems like so long ago. Another lifetime. Even though the shadow of this war has been threatening us for years, it still seemed like just a concept back then. Something coming, to be sure, but not as much a part of our everyday lives as the things we worried about daily – revising, Quidditch, Hagrid’s poor lesson planning, Draco’s bullying . . .

It's strange, I think, how it seems nostalgic thinking about it now. As if it’s already a part of The Past.

I’m lost in this train of thought, when I notice that we’ve stopped. Ron’s watching me. With an odd expression on his face, as if I am a puzzle that needs riddling out.

“What are you thinking about?” he says, more plainly than he usually addresses me. Or anyone. I try not to place too much meaning on that and just answer the question.

“I was thinking that this might be the last time we have Prefect Duty. You know, if we’re not here in the fall.” I start walking again, nervous about standing still with him. Alone, here, in the dim corridor leading to the boxcar. Have we really come all this way already?

“I’m sorry about that.” I hear him say to my back.

“You are?” Surprised, I turn back to meet his gaze.

“Well . . . I can’t honestly say I’m going to miss it, no.” He smiles, and my bones seem to turn to marshmallow. How can it be that after all this time, when I know which shoelace he ties first, and how old he was when he got his first broom, and the name of his favourite Quidditch player, for Pete’s sake, when I don’t even follow the sport … I still get all gooey inside when he grins at me like that? Maddening, that is.

He continues, “I just meant that I know you’ll miss it. And I’m sorry. Really.”

Oh. Sometimes he really can be sweet, which I suppose is how I get into this trouble in the first place. I think I must be standing there beaming at him like an idiot, but somehow it doesn’t really matter anymore. He understands me. Maybe even better than Harry, when you come right down to it. Which is why I can’t for the life of me understand why he hasn’t figured out that …

“Ouch! Arrgh!”

In the middle of my musings, the boxcar doors bursts open and two fifth year students quite literally fall out into the corridor floor. The boy is Kevin Entwhistle, a Ravenclaw I see often in the library. I don’t remember the girl’s name, but I think she’s a Hufflepuff. She looks rather tarty. And not only because her blouse is completely unbuttoned, revealing a racy bra. Just tarty in general.

To their credit, they both look completely mortified, and immediately start apologizing and pleading their case.

“Hermione, we were just…”

“It’s just that my parents aren’t letting me return, you see …”

“… and we don’t know when we’ll see each other again …”

Rolling my eyes, I shove Kevin aside, and all but push the girl back into the car and close the door, so as to give her some privacy as she straightens her clothing. As if she might be concerned about privacy issues. She’s still apologizing as she straightens herself out, but I don’t respond. When she is done, I open the door and address them both together.

“I think you should probably both get back to your seats. It’s not safe to be all the way down at this end of the train alone.” Gobsmacked, they are. Still, they don’t need to be told twice. They collect themselves and hurry off as if they can’t believe their good fortune.

At which point I turn to Ron, who still has not said a word. Big surprise. He’s staring at me, openmouthed. So I raise my eyebrows at him.

“What?” I ask, casually. Out with it, Weasley.

“You’re just going to let them off? I can’t believe it,” he says.

“What, you think we should have been more severe?”

“No. I would have let them off, too. I’m just surprised that you . . .”

Of course. Of course he’s surprised. Uptight Hermione. By-the-book Hermione. The rule enforcer. Good grief, it’s no wonder he’s never looked at me twice in all these years. I’m like McGonagall the Second to him.

I don’t even have the energy to feel indignant about it about it anymore. I just feel defeated.

So, instead I shrug by way of explaining my out of character behavior. “It’s been a rough day. Rough year. I expect if I were lucky enough to be in her shoes I’d be clinging to my boyfriend in the boxcar, too.” I catch the predictable widening of his eyes as I turn to start toward the door.

“Wait, what? What do you mean, lucky enough?”

“Oh, come off it, Ron. I’m not exactly the kind of girl who snogs in the box car,” I snap, unable to contain my snort of derision. “I’m well aware that I’m on nobody’s list for that purpose…”

“Hermione …”

“It’s okay, Ron, I know what they all think of me. Priggish Hermione, stick-in-the-mud, Hermione, homely Hermione…” I’m on a roll of self-pity, now.

“Hermione…”

“…all she cares about are top marks and making up to teachers …”

“Hermione!”

“No, Ron, stop. I don’t want to hear it. And I don’t really want to think about it anymore, either. I fall into one of three categories with my school chums: non-existent, homework helper, or, if I’m really, really lucky, friend. But that’s about it. I get it, okay, now can we please just finish rounds so we have some time to relax before we get to London?”

I turn on my heel and make to leave the car. But then I feel his hand on my shoulder, and I stop. I can’t help it. Part of me wants to just flee, tired of the same frustration, the same disappointment over and again.

But another part of me is always hoping that somehow, maybe one of these days I’ll turn around and see him looking at me the way I’ve wished for so long. In more rational moments I try to tell myself I gave up this daydream long ago, but heaven help me, it’s still there. Buried, but not all that deeply. What can I say? I guess I’m really a glutton for punishment.

This time, though, I don’t get the chance to decide to turn around. He does it for me. Grabs my shoulders and literally turns my body around to face him. Pulls me back into the boxcar and closes the door. I would be offended if I weren’t so surprised.

“Hermione, please. Let me say one bloody thing, will you?” The look on Ron’s face is unusual. During the course of our friendship, we’ve rowed about 5,000 times, and I thought for sure I knew every expression this person had in his stores. But I was wrong. He’s not angry, but frustrated. And something else I can’t put my finger on. As I pause to puzzle it out, though, I seem to have given him the few seconds he needed to choose his next words.

“You say these things about yourself like you say everything. As if by saying it, you’ll make it true. But you can’t just decide how the world feels about you. That’s not up to you.” He runs these hands through his hair, and I’m surprised to see he’s trembling a bit. What does that mean? As I am inexplicably speechless, he continues.

“Look, Hermione. Here’s the thing. I can tell you for a fact that blokes don’t think you’re bookish.” I flash him my best glare, and he clarifies. “Okay, maybe they think you’re bookish. But what I mean is that, well . . . they don’t think you’re unattractive.”

This startling news somehow revives my capacity for speech. “Ron, what are you on about? Of course they do. How else can you explain my utter lack of a love life?”

Inhaling deeply, he offers, “I reckon because of me.”

I am aghast, and immediately images of Ron playing the protective big brother spring to mind. Taking a deep breath of my own so that I don’t completely lose control, I say, “Please don’t tell me that you told anyone not to pursue me. Ron, you have no right to interfere in my life that way. You’re my friend, not my brother!”

He looks taken aback. “No, no, Hermione, that’s not it. It’s not like with Ginny. I didn’t say anything like . . . Oh, Merlin. How can I say this?” My anger is dissipating quickly, as he looks like he’s about to pass out. And his ears have gone all red. Adorable, that is. Wait, am I still supposed to be cross?

“Please, Ron. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know. Look, can we sit down?” he asks, more quietly now, casting his glance around for somewhere to sit. Our options are quite limited. I choose the only real seat, which is a wooden crate in the corner of the car. As there are no other options, Ron just sits on the floor near my crate.

He’s having trouble meeting my eyes, so I stop staring at him, and instead look down at my hands. Only then does he begin.

“Round about fourth year, some of the Gryffindor blokes started talking about you in a new way. You started looking … different. They noticed. Harry and I, of course, kept the conversation clean. You know we’d never let anyone insult you, or…”

“I know.” I do know that.

“Well, around that same time, I reckon I might have gotten a little too defensive about you, or protective of you, or something. I don’t know. Anyway, Seamus and Dean started referring to you as ‘off limits,’ as a way of ribbing me, saying things like, ‘Granger looks good, too bad she’s off limits, yeah, Weasley?’ It was their way of trying to get me to own up to being more than just …friends… with you.” He can’t look me in the eyes, and he’s completely red now. It’s all I can do not to hurl myself at him.

“They were just taking the mickey out. Still, it stuck, and maybe some other people didn’t know if they were joking or not, and I think you just came to be known as unavailable to a lot of them. At the time, I suppose I was glad, if it kept them away from you. They’re not good enough for you, anyway. But I’m sorry if I got in the way of anything you might have wanted.” Finally, he looks up and meets my eyes, and I think he’s waiting for my reaction.

Anything you might have wanted? What is that supposed to mean? I mean really, what the hell is that supposed to mean? All the years of wondering, hoping, guessing, wishing come crashing down on me until I feel like I can’t breathe, and I bury my face in my hands. I don’t even know what I feel anymore. If he had told me this a year ago, I would have been furious and lashed out at him. Now, though, I just want to know. I’m so very tired of waiting, and I feel like if I go on any longer hoping for Ron to finally put the pieces together, I’ll go mad. One way or another, it’s got to stop.

I raise my head and consider the boy – no, man – in front of me. He looks horrified, and I realize with embarrassment that it’s mostly because I am crying.

“Ron, if this has been going on for so long, why didn’t you just set them straight? Why didn’t you just tell them that I’m just your friend?”

“I couldn’t do that.” As if in slow motion, Ron raises himself to his knees in front of where I’m sitting and with one index finger, wipes a tear from my check. It makes me shiver.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me that he was protecting me. Bracing myself for the familiar taste of disappointment. And then, I whisper, “Why not?”

And he whispers, “You know what a terrible liar I am.”

And then, before my usually quick brain can process what he means, his lips are on mine. Softly at first, but when he realizes I’m not going to throttle him, he immediately raises his hands to my cheeks, and I thread my hands into his hair, and soon we are clinging to each other like mad.

And it’s like nothing I could have ever imagined, though I’ve tried often enough to do so. I expected that if this ever happened, he’d be hesitant, or else I’d be cautious. But by the time he deepens the kiss, and the warm slide of our tongues sends a shock wave through my body that I’ve only previously experienced in dreams, I’ve already decided that caution is completely overrated.

I can taste my tears in his mouth, and he’s making little moans that are literally making me tremble. I feel relieved, and desired, and happy, and hopeful. I feel so many things at once I think I might explode. Wait, why does that sound vaguely familiar?

Ron breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at me. To check on me. I love that in the middle of this moment, his instinct is still to make sure I’m alright. I can’t help but flash him a conspiratorial smile. He beams back at me like it’s Christmas morning. Everything is okay. Finally. Reassured, he plants a quick kiss on my cheek before leaning down to tentatively touch his lips to my neck. Oh, my.

A throaty moan escapes my lips, which spurs him on, and he begins to lavish my throat and neck with warm, wet kisses. I’m dimly aware that everything is happening much too quickly, but it doesn’t really matter. Completely overcome by how …right this feels, and needing to feel more of Ron, get closer to him somehow, I allow my hands to wander over his back. He’s so strong. No longer the little boy I met so many years ago on this very same train. We’re growing up, and I realize that feelings I have for him are, too, very grown-up. The implications of this, combined with the sensation of him nibbling a path up to my ear, are intoxicating.

Unable to restrain myself, and with a boldness I didn’t know I possessed, I tug his shirt from his jeans and slide my hands under it, along his abdomen and toward his chest. This elicits a bit of a gasp from him, and he momentarily stops kissing my neck.

“Hermione …” The roughness of his voice and the warmth of his bare skin against my fingers are fantastic, and I try to recapture his lips, but he pulls away.

“Wait …wait…I just …” he’s stammering, and even that is lovely. I know I must be grinning like a fool, but I’m way past caring.

“What is it, Ron?” I say, even as I’m pulling him back to me. “Do you want to stop?”

“No!” he says, with a strangled voice. “I don’t want to stop. Believe me, I really don’t want to stop.” But he takes my hands off his body, firmly holding them instead in his own, and then fixes my eyes with his. Oh, no. He’s going to take it back. Please don’t take it back.

“Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry…” I can feel the familiar prickle behind my eyes. But I will not cry. Not again. Instead, I rise to my feet, straightening my skirt, gathering myself. “I think maybe I misunderstood - ”

“Hermione,” he starts, as he scrambles to his feet and takes me by the elbows. “You really are mental. Of course you haven’t misunderstood. ” He’s almost laughing, and I would smack him, if I weren’t so relieved.

More gently than I would have thought him capable, he takes my chin and leans down for another soft kiss. Just a small peck, chaste really, but perfect none the less.

Then he takes a deep breath and says, “I just think we should slow down for a second. I feel like I have so much to say to you. You need to know … that is, it’s not just a snog … damn, I really need to do this right.” He runs his hands through his hair the way he did earlier and takes another deep breath.

“Hermione, I’ve felt this way for awhile now. I don’t know why it took me so long to tell you. I was an idiot. I know I go about things the wrong way. But I want us to get it right this time.” Oh.

Putting my fingers to his lips, I move closer to him and then slide my hands back around his waist. “Ron, I think we have a history of running into trouble when we rely on our words. And I think we are getting it right. Just right. We’re going to have loads of time to talk about this later.”

He allows himself to put his arms around me as well, and it amazes me again how natural it feels. I can see his smirk returning despite his good intentions, so I continue.

“As I was saying earlier, it’s been a rough year. Right now, I think I’d just like to be clinging to my boyfriend in the boxcar.”

“I like the sound of that,” he says, and leans down to meet my lips with another kiss. A proper one this time. Warm, and deep, and so exciting I can feel my knees giving out on me. No more hesitation, no more wondering. Finally, some planning.

And Horcurxes be damned, it’s going to be a great summer.

Gerp91
Hufflepuff
The Affectionate Bet by Jules713
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4528188/1/The_Affectionate_Bet
(I edited out the last little bit to make it more PG-13, but you can read the last paragraph at that link)

Harry and Ginny had a good reason for not showing any sign of their love when they dropped off their boys at the Hogwarts Express. They had just wanted to win their daughter a little money. After all, she was the only one who believed that they'd be able to keep their hands off of each other for two days. And what a fiasco that was.

In my defense, I'd like to say that I don't normally eavesdrop on my childrens' conversations. My wife Ginny and I had decided that we'd go rouse the kids up for our last family Quidditch game before James went back to Hogwarts and Albus started. There had been a lot of tension in the house for the past month or so, right when James decided to tell Albus that he, like the namesake for his middle name, would probably be in Slytherin. Alone, since none of his cousins were there, nor was James. Thus begun several arguments that had given everyone headaches and foul tempers. Even sweet, little Lily got so angry one night that she threw down the treat she was feeding James' owl and walked away in a huff, angrily muttering about 'stupid boys'. Ginny had followed her, completely amused.

Ginny and I were both pretty happy that the boys only had two more days of fighting until we actually found out what house Albus would be in. Many times we've told him that it didn't matter and each time he shook his head in disappointment, eventually telling me that he wanted to be just like me- a Gryffindor, brave at heart, noble, and courageous. I had looked down at my youngest son with new eyes, remembering the time he had drawn a scar like mine down his forehead and proudly exclaimed that he now looked exactly like me. Something in me had burst right then, not anger, but sadness. I had sat him down, he had only been five or six, and told him the story of how I got that scar. He never said he wanted to be like me again, until right then. When he looked up at me with his green eyes like mine, I felt love radiating off every pore in my body. I gave him a hug and told him not to let James get to him for the third time that month.

That night I had turned to Ginny in bed, loving the way her pale skin looked in the moonlight and how her eyes always caught me staring at her in amazement. She had smiled softly at me and grabbed my hand under the covers, moving closer to me so that she was close in my embrace. I thought she had fallen asleep almost immediately. I had watched her like I did nearly every night, thanking whoever was out there for my amazing wife and three beautiful, healthy children. When I started to think about dozing off, Ginny had shocked me by speaking up.

"As much as I love you looking at me like the wanker you are, I wanted to say that Albus has always wanted to be like you. He didn't stop from the time he was five until now. He just thought that you didn't want him to be like you anymore," I had looked into her sleepy brown eyes and kissed her forehead. "Really?" I had whispered back, combing my fingers through her red hair lightly. She had nodded tiredly and snuggled closer to me. I had fallen asleep with a grin on my face.

Enough about my bloody gorgeous wife. We wanted to get the boys and Lily ready for a Quidditch match, but figured they'd still be arguing, so we quietly approached the den, where they were supposed to be playing Exploding Snap. It was to our utmost surprise at what we heard.

"-always snogging! You'd think at their age they'd have gotten out of their system by now," James was telling Lily and Albus in exasperation, exaggerating as he always does when he's trying to prove a point. The other two nodded in agreement.

Ginny grabbed my hand and pulled me toward her. Before I could make a snide comment on how indecent it was in front of our children, she mumbled that they were talking about us. I shook my head at her, saying that we don't snog all the time. She gave me a knowing smirk. I could only wink back before we heard the next part of our oldest child's rant.

"Mum and Dad couldn't go a day without showing affection to each other," James was saying. Lily giggled and made a comment about how cute it was. James' face scrunched up in disgust as he stuck his tongue out. Eleven year old Albus arched an eyebrow.

"Wanna bet on it?" James nodded at his younger brother, eyes widening as large as the Galleons he desired. "Five Galleons." James drooled momentarily at the thought before sobering up.

"That's all my savings. And all yours," he stated and Albus smiled, shaking his head at his older brother.

Sometimes, my youngest son reminded me too much of his uncles. "It's all or nothing, dear brother." James got ready to retort but was interrupted by our little Lily.

"What about me?" she piped up. The boys both stared at her, stunned. They looked at each other, then back at her. They nodded.

"I bet a day. They won't last until tomorrow morning." James said, rubbing his hands together with a smirk. "I'm as sure about this as I am about you going into Slytherin." He directed the jab to Albus, who frowned and thought for a moment.

"I bet from tomorrow morning until when we leave for Hogwarts." challenged Albus, raising his eyes at Lily.

"I bet that they can hold out until you're both on the train." Her brothers looked a bit sad. "What?"

"We really don't want to take your money, Lil," James said honestly. Albus agreed.

Lily stood and, looking very much like her grandmother, placed her hands on her hips. "If I lose, I'll pay. But if I win, you both owe me." Both boys shrugged at her.

"It starts as soon as we see them both. I bet you they'll be holding hands," laughed James. Ginny and I exchanged a glance and she gestured to our daughter. I nodded, a little down. Two days without any kind of affection? A horror struck me. But what about-

"What about when they're in bed?" Albus asked James, who mimed vomiting. Lily looked puzzled and started to ask a question before James cut in saying, "One of us will have to have nightmares tonight, one of us tomorrow night." I crossed my arms with a pout. Ginny nudged me as the kids agreed to divvy up. All fell silent.

We took that as our cue. With a frown, I dropped Ginny's hand and put space in between us. The left side of my body felt a little cold as my heart drooped. Ginny walked in the room. "Ready for some Quidditch?" I watched James. He looked a little crestfallen to see our distance but quickly recovered.

The first day was hard. Especially in Quidditch. It was always Ginny and I against the boys and Lily and we always won. I had once asked them if they wanted to split me and Ginny onto different sides but they didn't think it was fun. They called us Quaffle hogs. So after Ginny and I won, three times, mind you, we cheered each other from afar. It was as much as a mental challenge as a physical one and I thought about letting James win many times. I saw little Lily, trying to show up her older brothers and thought of Ginny when she was younger, always being told she was too young for this, too little for that. So, I made a vow with myself not to let the boys win. Even if it killed me.

Which I knew it eventually would.

James grew frustrated as late afternoon advanced closer to supper. He'd throw out subtle hints as Ginny made tarts with Lily and I read out a book to Albus.

"Isn't Dad handsome, Mum?" That was the first thing put out there.

Ginny didn't even look up as she gave Lily a bowl to stir by hand. "Of course." James huffed a little.

I decided to have my fun too. "Yes, dear, aren't I?" This made Ginny glance over, a glint in her eye as she scrutinized me.

"You could use a shave and a haircut," she said finally, turning back to her baking. A bit downtrodden, I continued to read to Albus, who had watched the exchange with an amused expression.

"Dad, isn't Mum the prettiest lady you ever met?" There went his second punch. Ginny looked up at me as it was my turn to make the remark. My whole family was staring at me, waiting for my answer. James expression was slightly manic. I paused for dramatic effect, as if I was actually considering it.

"Always was, always will be," James pretended to gag, but I could see from his eyes that he was waiting for his mother's response. She said nothing, taking the bowl of mixture and spreading it into her tarts. I saw the pink tinge in her cheeks. Pleased, I turned back to James, who was silently fuming now. I continued with the book now, a bit preoccupied by Ginny. I kept throwing her sidelong glances which made James grin widely and throw knowing looks at Lily and Albus, who didn't pay any attention to him.

As we seated ourselves to dinner, the taunts began.

"You're gonna lose," hissed Albus to James, who flushed in anger.

James hesitated for a moment, lost at what to say. "Well, you're going to be a snake!" At Albus' fallen face, Ginny sprang into action.

"Enough, both of you!" she said sharply, at least enough to make both boys wince and Lily smile in satisfaction.

Dinnertime drew to an end as each child took a shower. James was so frustrated now, not knowing why Ginny and I weren't touching. There had been a few almost touches that James had watched with bated breath. As I passed the potatoes, I nearly squeezed Ginny's hand, which is something I always do. When I didn't do it, our oldest looked alarmed. Lily looked pleased as she dug into her meal. When I took my wand out to move the dishes to the sink and start the sponges on scrubbing them, I didn't prod Ginny in the side with my wand to make her jump and threaten me. It took a lot of restraint, but I didn't hug Ginny from behind or rest my chin on her shoulder, like I do to be close to her.

I could see the lack of affection getting to Ginny also. We didn't throw each other secretive smiles and she didn't kick me under the table. She didn't make any comments about my hair or crooked glasses or anything, really. I think it was a rather dull day, to be completely honest with you.

After tucking each child in, we headed back to our room, Ginny sighing quietly. Climbing into bed and pulling the duvet back, I reached out my hand to Ginny. She looked surprised as she glanced around for little hidden eyes. She placed it a few inches from mine, looking into my eyes.

'I miss you,' she mouthed, a small frown on her face. I returned the words with a muffled groan.

But at least I could still stare at the love of my life. Tonight, she stared back. Keeping her hand three inches away from me, she traced my face, the outline of my eyes, the shape of my lips. Trying to overcome the urge to kiss her palm, I squeezed my eyes shut. It was all about endurance, I reminded myself sadly. I've never felt this alone, at least not when I was so close to someone I loved. Biting back a scream of frustration, I opened my eyes.

"Stop, please," I told her quietly, turning over so I didn't have to face her. Knowing this would upset her greatly, I waited for the burst of something-anger, sadness. Nothing came.

"Sorry," came the soft reply of my red headed wife. There was rustling and a change in the weight on the mattress. She had turned the other way. I laid there for ten minutes, eventually rolling on my back to ponder the ceiling. An idea struck me and I reached for my wand on the bed stand next to me. Muttering a quick spell, I pointed my wand at the ceiling where bright stars now spelt out both our names with a fancy sign for 'and' connecting them both. There were hearts by it. There was also the day we got together in our sixth year, the day we got back together after the war, and our wedding date below that. I smiled at my handiwork and whispered for Ginny. She didn't move. Thinking she was still upset and wanting to explain myself, I nudged her. She was still, only her chest rising and falling with each breath. I sighed as I got out of bed, thinking my wife was fake sleeping. Kneeling by her face, I whispered in her ear.

"I'm the one that's sorry. It's bloody torture not to be able to hold you or snog you at any time. Come look at the ceiling, love." She didn't move and right then I knew she had fallen asleep.

Stunned, I moved back onto my side of the bed, waving away the ceiling's words with an angry flourish of my wand. I must've stayed awake until at least one or two in the morning with only one thought racing through my mind.

In our fifteen years of marriage, even when dealing with pregnancy, death, and co-workers, neither one of us has ever fallen asleep angry or upset with the other. It was our unspoken rule. And tonight, it had been broken.

Everything was hazy for a while until I was awoken by a gaggle of voices that were trying to be quiet, but were failing at it miserably.

"You didn't go in there last night?"

Then came the girlish wail of, "I'm sorry. I fell asleep!"

"What's it matter anyway, James? They're on opposite sides of the bed."

James let out a breath and fumed. "Where is their affection? They're so bloody boring without it. Maybe.."

"No. We're not calling the bet off," Albus interrupted quietly with an edge of anger. "In two hours, they're on my time."

James snorted and there was a creak of the stairs as the three children headed down the breakfast. I heard Ginny's sharp intake of breath as she woke up. Wondering what she'd do if I slept longer than her, I kept myself the way I slept, sprawled everywhere. It was another unspoken rule that I made the morning meal for the kids. Today, I let myself breathe easily. I could feel her eyes on me. There was an angry sigh as my wife finally got up and threw a robe on, heading out the door of our bedroom.

I groaned, turning over and stuffing my face in a pillow.

Our last full day was even worse than the first. Now, instead of the foolish flitting around like yesterday, we were actually trying to avoid each other because we didn't want to cross paths. There have been times when Ginny was mad at me, but it was nothing like this. I could feel her anger and I could do nothing about it but let it build. I winced as she sent the bowls to the sink after breakfast. They all crashed into each other in their haste to reach the water, making three out of five break. She repaired them with venom as our children could only watch in shock; none of them had ever seen Ginny so upset before. When the kids went out to play, I cornered her.

"You fell asleep last night." As soon as it left my lips, I knew she'd take it as an accusation. Instead she nodded and adverted her eyes to the floor. "Ginny," I said softly, wanting nothing more than to sweep her into a hug and smell her hair. She looked up and we locked eyes. When I was met with her big brown eyes filled with tears, I swept a glance around the kitchen before taking her into my arms and letting her sob on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" She wiped at her eyes angrily and backed out of my embrace as she, too, looked around the room. "It's nothing, Harry," she nearly spat.

And that's when everything took a turn for the worse. "That's a lie and you know it, Ginny. I apologized quite nicely to your sleeping form last night and I had a light show and everything!" My anger dissipated at Gin's smile.

"I'm sorry," we both said at the same time. We both laughed and then it became serious.

"I love you," I said, and she agreed with me, leaning back against the counter, her body displayed quite nicely toward me. "Stop," I growled and she could only chuckle at me and change her pose to something much worse than the first. "What you do to me, woman," I puffed, getting ready to plan an attack as the children came back in. It was one of those times I was not glad to see them. I resisted the urge to tell them so and took a different approach. "James, Albus, are you both packed?" Albus nodded; he had been packed ever since we had come back from Diagon Alley two weeks ago. James pondered for a moment and shook his head.

"Where are my socks, Mum?" James scratched his head in thought.

"Your dresser," Ginny said suspiciously. I noticed her pose was now a tad more child friendly. With a scared look, James raced up the stairs. I looked at Ginny, who shrugged in confusion.

Albus glanced at the clock on the mantle. "Eleven. Excellent." He smiled up at us both with a little too much innocence. "Can we hear a story before lunch?" I went to go pick up the book discarded from yesterday's reading. Albus shook his head. "No, I want Mum to tell one of her stories." I know Ginny had to resist sticking her tongue out at me.

Ginny plopped into an armchair and turned toward Albus and Lily, who sat on the carpet in front of her. I decided to take the couch and I sat down carefully. I was not a plopper, unlike my wife. "What story?" she asked.

"One about you and Dad?" Albus asked innocently, with a sly edge to his voice. Ginny shrugged at him. "If you'd like," she said, unconcerned. "Pick a story."

"How about...your first kiss." Ginny laughed at Albus' statement. "Your father could tell that much better than me; I didn't expect that one." Albus shook his head and Lily copied him. "You tell it, Mum!" Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. Wiht a deep breath, which made Lily, Albus and I lean in closer, she began.

"In my fifth year of school, I was finally friends with Harry. I hadn't completely gotten over my crush on him, but I wasn't that shy, silly girl who couldn't even meet his eyes without blushing." There was a giggle from Lily, who covered her mouth with her hand to muffle it. "Your father knew that this boy, Malfoy, was up to something at school, but nobody believed him. One day, right before our last match of the season, in which Harry was Captain, he finds the boy and they end up throwing spells at each other. Harry uses a spell that he found out of an old Potions book; the curse, however, is a dark spell and leaves gashes on Malfoy's chest. Eventually, your father gets detention every Saturdays for the rest of the term, which means he can't make the Quidditch game. On the day of, I had to play Seeker. We won the game and raced back to the Common Room. The whole team was celebrating and waiting to tell our Captain the good news. So Harry walks in slowly, looking for something. Everybody's yelling that we won and I run to give him a hug. Instead, he kisses me in front of the whole common room." Even though they had already heard this story, the kids were open mouthed at the end of it. Both looked at me and smiled. Lily winked.

James took that time to come back in the room in a frantic rush. "Mum, were they on top of my dresser or under it?" Ginny rolled her eyes and Summoned them. James grinned cheekily as they flew into his arms. "Thanks, Mum." He finally looked around the room. "What's happening?" Albus smiled like an angel and explained that both Ginny and I were going to replay our first kiss. Dumbfounded, Ginny and I snuck a look at each other. She had the same expression that I believe I was wearing at the time. Lily caught the look and became suspicious, but she didn't say anything.

"I don't think we agreed to that," I told Albus, who gave me a pout. It struck me at how much he looked like me, especially when I was eleven. Albus, however, didn't not look underfed and skinny. He had an air of being well cared for and a bright personality, even if it was shy at times. It didn't matter how much he looked like me- he had his mother's temper and ability to stick up for himself. Lily was more docile, but still feisty, which is something I'm glad about; my little girl should never get pushed around. James was a mixture of Ginny and I. He had his outbursts of anger, but was mostly calm. His outlet was for jokes.

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. "You don't want to see that. You're always saying you hate it." A little put off, Albus, Lily, and James, after putting his socks in his trunk, went to eat lunch.

"Less than a day," I grumbled to myself, stomping after them. I pretended not to hear Ginny's snicker.

Albus didn't try anything all afternoon. While I was reading that night to him and his brother, he looked thoughtful. "What attracted you to Mum?" I stopped mid-sentence to stare. Ginny and Lily had gone out to Diagon Alley, so I knew that Albus was asking from the heart, and even if he wasn't, I couldn't show affection to someone who wasn't there, could I? I pondered a minute or two on his question. Both boys stared at me.

"The monster in me," I grinned at them ruefully. Both boys looked a little taken aback; Albus was staring at my chest as if waiting for something to erupt. "I saw her kissing her boyfriend-" "Mum had a boyfriend before you?" "-and something in me snapped." I finished, glaring a little at James' interruption. "And, yes, your mother had two boyfriends before me."

"Two?" Both boys were shocked, to say in the least. "How many girlfriends did you have, Dad?"

I shrugged. "One, kind of. I was too busy for that."

James looked outraged. "Too busy to snog?" Albus giggled as Ginny took that moment to come in, having just arrived by Floo with Lily.

"Who's too busy to snog?" I blushed a little, embarrassed about being caught talking about snogging with our sons, and mumbled something to the floor. Ginny raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any other questions. Albus gleefully headed upstairs to shower.

The house was silent earlier than usual. Albus had retired early, looking green around the edges from his nervousness. Lily followed soon after, mumbling something about having to pack for Hugo's. As always, James was last, challenging me to a game of chess, in which I won, before reluctantly following his mother and I up to bed.

Ginny didn't say anything as we climbed into bed. She turned on her side, away from me. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, my hands behind my head. After a few minutes of this I turned over, watching Ginny's back. If she won't let me see her face, at least I'd get this. I leaned into her hair and inhaled the sweet scent.

"I love you," I whispered, to no reply. Wounded, I closed my eyes and drifted, never really falling asleep.

"Dad." I was being shaken. Groggily, I asked who was there. I opened my eyes to see the blurred outline of my youngest son. I groped for my glasses on the bedside stand and hastily shoved them on.

"Albus? What's the matter?" He scuffed his toe on the ground and looked into my eyes, looking scared. "I'm nervous about tomorrow, Dad."

I glanced at the clock and smiled. "Today," I corrected him gently. He looked even more frightened. I patted the bed, the cold space in between Ginny and I. Albus smiled gratefully and climbed in, softly, as to not wake his Mum. There were a few minutes of quiet as Albus looked up at the ceiling as I had before.

"You'll be our son no matter what house you're in," I spoke to his thoughts. He looked surprised, but nodded, his black hair reflecting in the moonlight. In a few minutes, he was out like a light. With that I fell into another restless sleep, muddled with my thoughts.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. It was while we were loading the trunks in the car when James resumed where he had left off on Albus, teasing him once more, erasing the insight I had given him last night.

At the platform, Lily clung to me, asking why they wouldn't let her go to Hogwarts two years earlier. Albus searched for his cousin Rose and when he found her, he visibly relaxed. Everything passed in a blur as I gave Albus one last talk and a hug before he climbed in after James, whose goodbye was shorter than last year's.

The train took off and my hand was still in air, raised in farewell. I felt my sons drift a little further away from me, off on their own journey now.

"He'll be all right," Ginny said, the first thing she had said to me since yesterday. I answered her honestly, rubbing my painless scar. With those few words, everything that had happened in the past two days melted away and I hugged her to me.

Lily arrived then, smiling a little. She had already been invited to Ron and Hermione's for a sleepover with her cousin Hugo. I knew they'd talk obsessively about Hogwarts all night. She ran over to give us both hugs goodbye and I kissed her forehead before both Ginny and I knelt to her level. Lily scrunched her brown eyes up in confusion.

"Looks like you'll be getting ten Galleons," I told her. Her eyes grew wide and a grin split her face. "You both knew?" she asked. We both nodded and she squealed, hugging us both, one arm around each of our necks. We both stood up. "Now, go have fun," Ginny told her, smiling as the wind whipped her hair around her face. Lily went to go run off but first looked up at us.

"I'm sorry if it was hard for you," she told us sincerely before Hugo called her away and she adapted a quick pace, reaching him in seconds. "Hugo, guess what? I get ten Galleons. I know! TEN!" Her voice carried over the Apparating parents and loud talking. I turned to my wife and rolled my eyes upward. She giggled. Ginny and I Apparated on the spot as soon as Ron and Hermione waved goodbye.

We had barely made it through the door before we both exploded. Articles of clothing were strewn everywhere as I kissed Ginny on the neck, on her shoulders, her cheeks, her forehead.

Name: TonksAsKid
HouseHufflepuff!
I didn't write this story. I thought the ending was very clever and I admired it! I added one word: Severus.


http://www.thequidditchpitch.org/viewstory.php?sid=4854



The Platform had fallen from sight long before Albus Severus pushed away from the window and apprehensively approached the compartment his brother and cousin were occupying. James liked to go away to school, but Albus missed his father greatly already and he knew that James would just tear the mickey out of him if he so much as mentioned owling home as soon as they reached the castle. Quietly, he slid the door open and was blasted back by James' Exploding Snap cards.

"You're the Potter boy, right?" he heard someone ask as he nodded and rubbed the back of his head.

"James!" Rose shrieked stepping out into the corridor to check on her cousin. "You could've killed him! Your Mum would go spare! Albus, you alright?" she asked extending her hand out to him and finding that he didn't need to be helped up. Scorpius Malfoy was already helping her cousin to his feet.

"Albus?" the blond boy sneered. "Did your parents wish to torture you so early in life?"

"And Scorpius is any better?" James quickly said pushing past Rose to defend his younger brother. Apparently, it was okay for him to be mean to his little brother but no one else had that right. Maybe his brother wasn't all bad to be with, after all, Albus thought as he let go of Malfoy's hand and brushed off the dirt from his backside.

He turned to thank Mr. Malfoy's son for helping him up and was shoved aside as the boy snorted derisively toward his brother and headed down the corridor to another compartment.

"Did you have to be such a prat?" Rose rounded on James while Albus continued to watch Scorpius walk away.

"He was making fun of Al's name. No one gets to do that but me," he grinned cheekily at her and clapped his little brother on the shoulder. "Right, mate?"

"He was just helping me stand up," Albus replied, meekly following his brother into the compartment.

"And besmirching your honor, Al!"

"Since when do you know words like besmirching?" Albus asked reaching over Rose's head for his Quidditch Through the Ages book peeking from his open rucksack. It was his favorite book. It included his father's triumphs as the youngest seeker in a century at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as well as his mother's professional career as a Holyhead Harpie.

"Oi, tell me you're not going to read that again!" James sighed flopping onto the seat and shuffling his cards again. "Come on Rose, best two out of three."

"Can't we play chess instead?" she whined.

"Tell you what," James said, giving her his most charming Potter smile. "You win the next two and I'll think about it."

"Don't do it, Rose," Albus warned her from behind his book. "He's going to keep saying that until we get there."

"Anything from the trolley dears?" a plump witch asked sliding the compartment door open.

"Nothing, thanks," James replied, quickly waving her off as he dropped two smoking cards onto the discard pile. She closed the door and pushed the cart forward without another word and Albus lobbed a stuffed snitch at his brother.

"I wanted something! You could've asked if Rose and I wanted anything!"

"Al, Aunt Hermione would have kittens if she found out Rose had sweets. Do you want to meet a Howler just before being sorted into Slytherin?" he asked with a wink. "Just trying to spare you from the humiliation, li'l bro."

"Sod off!" Albus muttered and went in search of a few Ton Tongue Toffees to slip into his brother's pumpkin juice.

"Yes dear?" the plump witch asked turning to face him before he even reached her. She reminded him of Gran a little and when he squeezed past her to look at the trolley he was met, once again, by a sneering, blond first year.

"We really need to stop meeting like this, Potter, we'll be the talk of the school."

"What?" Albus asked, his eyebrows scrunched up.

Malfoy snickered, shook his head and turned to leave when Albus seized his hand.

"I… I wanted to thank you and well, apologize for my…"

"Spare me, you're a Potter, it's in your nature to be heroic, I just couldn't bear to see those trousers spend any more time on the floor."

Albus laughed. A real laugh, like the ones his Uncle Ron had when his father would say something clever towards his mother which seemed to take him by surprise.

"You have a funny laugh," Scorpius said smiling.

"Do not!" Albus replied, his humor quickly doused.

"Don't get all bent out of shape, Potter. I was trying to give you a compliment," Malfoy said, reaching into this trouser pockets. Albus noticed, for the first time, that they both wore trousers instead of jeans like his brother normally wore.

He paid the witch and turned to leave.

"Young man! Your change?"

Smiling at Albus over his shoulder, he nodded toward the other boy. "Weren't you getting something?"

Albus purchased the Ton Tongue Toffees, a few chocolate frogs for Rose, three bottles of pumpkin juice, his favorite Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and an Acid Pop. He was still smiling when he entered the compartment and dropped everything on top of James' lap.


When the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head, Albus thought for a moment. Thought about what his father had said. He could ask the hat to change its mind. Could request that he be sent to sit beside his brother at the Gryffindor table, but then the image of Scorpius Malfoy walking away from him, his smile shining over a shoulder swam to the forefront of his mind and before he could register what the Hat had shouted he was being led toward the Slytherin table next to that coy smile.

Glancing at the Gryffindor table, he barely registered his brother's shocked expression before turning to the welcoming handshakes from his Slytherin housemates.

"Albus Severus Potter and he's surprised you're in Slytherin?" Scorpius asked glancing at Albus' brother across the room.

When Albus turned to look at him, his face scrunched up again, he leaned closer to the shorter boy, grey eyes gazing into green. "Your initials are ASP."

Albus laughed again, throwing his head back. "Remind me to send that explanation into my owl to Gran then."

The End