When a Window Closes
Guffaws ricocheted around Harry’s brain like a tennis ball, the area behind his scar pounding.
“-offensive play in that scenario is absolute rubbish, mate.” Ron paused to lean over his unopened textbooks and grab another chocolate frog. He tore it open before continuing. “Zabini’s broom can barely keep up.”
Dean sniggered and took a swig out of a flask that Harry hoped contained just pumpkin juice. “Surely can’t keep up with his dick, I suppose.”
Ron snorted so hard that he choked on his frog.
Harry’s neck grew hot. He cleared his throat and looked up at his friends draped across their respective beds.
Ron looked a bit sheepish, but Dean had the audacity to roll his eyes. “C’mon Harry,” he droned, “haven’t we all wondered if Zabini’s cock–”
Harry was out of earshot before Dean could even finish, his papers flying behind him as his friends erupted into laughter.
“-could not believe it, mate,” Seamus was saying, making exaggerated (and crude) hand gestures. “She just got right on top–”
Harry slammed his Potions book closed and was met with echoing silence. Neville let out a squeak and toppled from his upside-down position on the Gryffindor lounge chair.
Seamus turned his attention towards Harry and winked. “Might want to open your ears for this one, Harry. You can learn how it’s done.”
Harry drew in a sharp breath and tried to compose himself. He began stuffing his quills and ink into his satchel.
“Maybe next time.”
Was there anywhere that he could bloody think ?
Harry exited the portrait hole, The Fat Lady slamming shut behind him with a disgruntled “hmmph!” and some mumbling - Harry paid her no mind.
What would Hermione do? The library, of course. Where all of his peers should be. Was he the only one drowning in essays? But to be fair, he was the only student who had their time eaten away with Quidditch, advanced Potions, and weekly meetings with Dumbledore. Harry hefted his satchel higher onto his shoulder. Of course.
Marked with newfound determination, Harry headed towards the library, jostling shoulders of giggling girls and rowdy boys as he went. Wasn’t it a Tuesday night? Why were there so many students milling about?
A gaggle of second years nearly ran him over. Unbalanced, Harry righted himself and promptly slammed his back right into a group of seventh year girls, who blushed when they saw him.
“Sorry-” Harry started, but the girls erupted into sniggers.
“No, we’re sorry,” the Ravenclaw said. She looked him up and down with careful blue eyes before smiling conspiratorially at her friends.
“Err-” Harry started again, more than a bit confused. He meant to turn and be on his way, but the girl grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
“Would you like to go to the Hallow’s Eve Ball with me?” The girl fluttered her lashes a bit while her friends shot envious looks. “I’m Aleena.”
Harry stared back at her for a beat too long.
Aleena rolled her eyes but gave a light smile. “Ravenclaw,” she said, by means of explanation, “seventh year. Blimey, we have DADA together this term.”
Harry had a blurry memory of Aleena sitting a few tables in front of him in class, sending paper doves to her friends across the room. Had she ever even spoken to Harry before? He tried to wrack his brain for the answer and came up empty. Why was she asking him to the ball? Was this why the castle seemed to be on high alert, a bit hornier than usual? Halloween was still a month away, and quite frankly the last thing on his mind.
Aleena was looking at him expectantly. Her friends grew quiet. One of them coughed.
Harry didn’t know what to say. His brain was short circuiting. Why were they all looking at him like that?
“Right,” he finally settled on. Then he came up short. “Listen, I–I’m not even sure if I’m going to the ball at all.”
Aleena’s friends began to turn away, unsure of what to do with themselves. She reddened. “Oh. Well, if you change your mind–”
“Yep,” Harry sputtered, “Maybe.” He pointedly hiked his satchel up higher. “I’ve got to run.” He gave an awkward half-wave, turned, and began heading towards the library once more.
“See you,” he heard Aleena call behind him, but her voice was swallowed by the crowds of students.
What the fuck? Harry imagined telling Ron and almost groaned. An attractive girl, a seventh year no less, asking Harry Potter to the Hallow’s Eve Ball out of nowhere–he would think Harry was a bloody idiot for not saying yes.
But why couldn’t he just say yes?
But the dull headache was returning, and so Harry decided to shelve those particular thoughts for a different day. The mounding pile of essays in his satchel was his biggest concern at the moment. But at the rate the castle was at now, the library would be no better than the halls. Harry pictured Madam Pince loudly shushing while gossiping students eyed each other like animals at a mating ritual.
Harry abruptly stopped in the middle of the sea of students, who continued on around him like he wasn’t even there. The cogs in his brain began turning.
There was perhaps one place in the castle left for him to go.