The First Year

November Frost

Ron reached for a couple of bags of crisps, plucking them from the rack with his fingertips. 'Add these to the tab, eh?' The barman grunted, as he pulled their first pints. Ron took it to mean assent.

As the barman slid the full glasses across the scarred and polished counter, he glanced at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 'Yer mate all righ', then? All righ' in th' head, an' all?'

Ron followed the barman's gaze. Harry was slumped into the tiny booth in the corner, looking exhausted. 'He's fine.' Ron said shortly. 'Tough day at work.'

The barman transferred his gaze to Ron. 'Neither o' yeh look old enough to be outta school.'

Ron felt his hackles rise slightly. 'We're old enough,' he muttered, tucking the crisps in the crook of his arm, and wrapping his hands around the glasses, then carried them to the booth. 'Here.' Harry opened his eyes, and picked up the pint of bitter Ron set in front of him, gulping it gratefully. 'Want to ease up a bit? Remember last time...?'

Harry set the glass down, now an inch or so lower, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. 'Clearly.' He paused and reached for one of the bags of crisps, ripping it open. 'Well, the next day, more than that night.'

'How was it?'

Harry heaved a sigh. 'The usual Ministry claptrap. Talking out both ends of their mouths. It's perfectly acceptable for the Wizengamot to try a dead man, but not take the testimony of one.'

'Will you have to...?' Ron motioned toward his head.

Harry shook his head. 'I don't think so. They wouldn't take Dumbledore's testimony in the hearing, so they're going to travel up to the school and talk to his portrait. Because, you know, that's so much more effective.'

Ron took a long sip of his drink. 'Does he have a portrait?'

Harry's startled green eyes widened. 'Who? Snape?'

'Yeah...'

Harry's face grew speculative. 'I'm not sure. I haven't been in the Headmistress' office since a few days after... If there was one there, I didn't notice. And he didn't speak up.'

'If there's a portrait...' Ron began.

'They can talk to Snape,' Harry finished. His eyes narrowed and he glared a Ron. 'See? I need you around to help me figure things like this out!'

Ron chuckled and his fingers snaked into the open bag of crisps. 'Nope. Had enough of it in school. Look at you. You're so stressed out about it, I'm sure you're dreaming about it.'

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly, and he sort of shrugged, half-embarrassed. His dreams weren't as full of his working life, as they had been before, but he still dreamed about it. He didn't think about it too much. He just figured it was how his brain worked through things. 'Just a bit,' he said lamely, cramming a few crisps into his mouth.

Lately, his working dreams had been punctuated with dreams about Ginny. Unlike the dreams he'd had before, these were almost scandalous; sensuously graphic in a way the others hadn't been. While he wouldn't have traded the days spent with Ginny during the summer, they were making things rather uncomfortable for Harry now. He pushed those thoughts aside, and picked up the thread of conversation. 'I've not thought to ask McGonagall if there is a portrait of Snape. Would they let him have one, do you think?'

'Who?'

'The other Headmasters and Headmistresses. The portraits just don't pop out of thin air, yeah?'

Ron snorted. 'Really? If that lot had any say, do you think they'd have let Phineas Nigellus Black have one?'

Harry's lips twitched. 'Yeah. He is quite a git, isn't he?' He and Ron gazed at each other before they burst into laughter. 'The only problem with that is he ran off. I mean, I know why, but I'm not sure that will be enough to put one in.'