"You'll . . . what?"
"I will spend that two weeks with you, in the Dursley household, taking advantage of their, I'm sure, quite genial hospitality . . ." Severus trailed off, then bit out, "Why are you laughing?"
--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--
At the banquet, Harry tried really hard to be pleasant and upbeat amongst his friends, while they chatted about final grades which were due any day now, the end of the year and going home.
But Harry wasn't going home. Hogwarts was home, to him, the first place in his memory he felt he belonged. Here he had friends and mentors and people who looked out for him. He had Quidditch and spells, and he wasn't a freak. Well, not the freak he was to the Dursleys anyway. Even knowing he only had to spend two weeks at the Dursleys didn't make him feel much better about the end of the year. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts at all.
The Bloody Baron floated up through the table amongst the First Year Slytherins, and gave Harry a secret wink when the other Firsties screamed and clutched at their dinner plates so as to keep from getting his dripping blood/ectoplasm all over their food.
Harry tried hard not to laugh. "You sure know how to liven up the place. Thanks."
"It is my pleasure, Harry Potter. I am glad to see you at last, and decently recovered."
"Yeah, er, me, too. Good to see you, I mean."
The Baron inclined his head slightly. "I understood your meaning. Are you well? I did not intend to leave your body when I did. The ordeal must have been very trying."
It had been awful, it was true, and Harry knew that no one else could hear the Baron speak, so the Baron could say such things in front of them, and no one would be the wiser. But the other First Years could hear his side of the conversation, so he had to be careful in his response. "I'm fine now. Really."
The ghost narrowed his merciless eyes. "It is unlike you to engage in such blatant falsehoods, my young friend."
With a frown of his own, Harry replied, "I will be fine. How about that?"
"That shall have to suffice," the Baron intoned. "Perhaps I will see you this evening in the dungeons and we can discuss it further. I fear my presence is putting your Housemates off their feed."
Harry glanced around at the nearby tables stuffed with students, some of whom were pale and even trembling a little in proximity to Slytherin House's terrible ghost. Even younger Slytherins did not like to be too close to him, from the cold bleakness that rolled off him to the horrible gleaming "blood" pouring from the stab wound in his chest. Even those students apparently unaffected by the Bloody Baron's presence kept sending him wary glances and drawing their dinner plates closer.
"I see what you mean. Til' later," Harry promised, and turned back to his own dinner as the Baron sank through the table.
"I really wish he wouldn't do that," Millie complained when the Baron had gone. She was on Harry's left and was busy scraping something up with a spoon.
"Scared of a widdle ghost, Bulstrode?" Zabini mocked from across the table.
"Uh, no." Millie held up the spoon, which was heaped with glowing, off-gray ooze. "I just hate it when he slimes my mashed potatoes. Why?" she asked innocently as she flicked the glob at Zabini. "Do you like it?"
The spoonful of gray ooze splattered the front of Zabini's robe. His face drained of color to match the shade of the splotch. "You miserable little--"
"Watch it, Zabini," Teddy said, from Harry's right. "Keep it down in front of the other Houses, if you don't mind. Besides, no one wants to hear your vulgar little mouth, least of all, our Head." He crooked a thumb to aim at Professor Snape at the High Table, only a couple paces from where the Firsties' seats were clustered. It was more than possible that he could hear them. And, Harry noted with a quick glance, Snape was watching them right now. As was the Headmaster.
"Fine," Zabini spat. "We'll sort this out later, Bullstrode." He snatched up his wand and pointed it at his robe. With a muttered "Evanesco," the mess was gone.
"Looking forward to it," Millie sang back at him, absolutely unconcerned. Then, deliberately turning her face away from Zabini, she said to Harry, "You'll come to visit over the summer hols, won't you? Mum said to say she'd love to have you."
Taken off guard, Harry stared. "What? Why?" Barring the invitation at Christmas, which he'd assumed was for pity's sake, since otherwise he was stuck at the castle, he had never been asked over to anyone's house before. This . . . this was . . . well, he didn't know how to describe it.
While he was trying to figure out what to say, Millie's face had grown a frown. "'Cause you're my friend, and friends visit, right? You are my friend, aren't you, Harry?"
"I . . . yeah . . . I mean, I never . . ." Harry bit his lip, and Millie's expression softened.
"It's okay," she said. "You can send me an owl or something."
"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed, relieved that Millie hadn't made him explain. Even after a whole school year of having friends, he could still be blindsided by new expectations. "I'll send you an owl."
As Millie turned to talk with the girls on her other side, Teddy nudged Harry with an elbow. "Cozying up with Millicent over the holidays, eh?" He grinned. "Didn't know she was your type."
"Ted!" Harry squawked. A quick glance showed Millie had not heard.
Just past Teddy was Draco Malfoy, who laughed at Harry's expression. "You're blind as a bat, Potter, if you can't see where she's headed with that. First it's visits, then snogging, then a ring to seal you, and babi--"
"Shut it!" Harry hissed.
"Harry and Millie, sitting in a tree--"
"I swear, Draco, I'll--"
Draco smiled innocently. With his fair hair and bright white shirt, he could pass for an angel. Almost. Then he batted his eyes mockingly. "You'll do what? Snog me, too?"
About to yell again, Harry hesitated. What was he doing? He never got worked up like this over Dudley's taunts. He was losing his cool, and he had mere seconds to get it back or he'd be a laughingstock. So instead of being led by a head of steam, he gave Draco a slow, sly smile. Then he winked broadly and pursed his lips, making kissy noises. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Draco sputtered around a mouthful of pumpkin juice, getting half of it on himself. Everyone at that end of the table laughed, and the contest was over. Draco smiled ruefully and nodded at Harry, and Harry nodded back, calmer now, but with a whoosh of butterflies in his stomach, the way he felt when anyone said anything -- even jokingly -- about snogging. He'd gotten that weird feeling ever since he'd been stalked by Gaius Avery. There had only been a couple of incidents with the other boy, but they were enough to make even the idea of snogging repellant to Harry.
Thankfully, no one noticed the change in his mood as dinner finished up, and he was able to eat in peace.
As the dinner dishes disappeared, Professor Dumbledore stood up from the Head Table and the Great Hall silenced immediately.
*"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious dessert. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts....
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and eighty-two; Slytherin has four hundred and twenty-two and Gryffindor, four hundred and seventy- two."
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Gryffindor table. Harry could see Ron Weasley and his brothers banging their goblet on the table. He was disappointed, but that's what came from losing their last Quidditch game.
"Yes, yes, well done, Gryffindor," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."