A Sirius Matter [Harmione]

39. Snogging in the Rain

Despite his preference that the summer go on forever, Harry couldn't help but smile when he saw the sign that read, 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters,' and said it would be departing at eleven o'clock. He and Hermione had passed through the barrier together holding hands and continued walking toward the scarlet engine while Sirius appeared behind them. It was decided that in the event that Voldemort attacked the platform, Hermione's muggle parents would be a liability that someone would have to protect, and they decided not to risk creating that problem, so they said their goodbyes at Grimmauld Place.

Through the smoke, the Boy-Who-Lived could see a few aurors in uniform looking around, and was sure there were more around. "I would guess that Riddle won't attack here. It would be too predictable."

"You're probably right," she agreed, "but I'm still glad we're wearing our armor under our clothes."

"Me, too." She looked around. "I still feel strange being one of the few students not carrying a trunk."

Smiling, her boyfriend suggested, "I could get my shrunk trunk out of my wallet and resize it. Then open it and take your trunk out of it and allow you to carry it. It should be pretty heavy with all those books. Then I'd re-shrink my trunk and watch you struggle with yours."

"Very funny," she responded. "I guess we'd better go to the prefects' compartment now." She squeezed her boyfriend's hand. "I'm glad Professor Dumbledore asked you whether you wanted to be prefect or not before giving the position to someone else. You did earn it."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Any chance to walk around the castle late at night with you..."

"It won't just be with me," she said while blushing. "We'll have to do rounds with whomever we're scheduled with."

"I suppose."

When they arrived at the Prefects' compartment, Harry was surprised to see the absolute worst person anyone could possibly pick as the Slytherin prefect. The idiot was sneering at him like he'd accomplished something.

"What is Dumbledore thinking giving Draco Malfoy a prefect badge?" Harry hissed at his girlfriend.

She sighed. "I don't know, but there's nothing we can do about it. That cow Parkinson is the girl prefect."

Draco suddenly started sniffing the air with an expression that he'd detected something foul. "If you're wondering what that odor is, a mudblood just walked in here."

Pansy laughed, but she was the only one. Everyone else was glaring at him. The six-foot-three Head Boy, Kenneth Towler of Gryffindor, got right in Draco's face. "You just earned yourself a detention, you little Death Eater spawn! Your daddy's friends killed my mother last summer," He grabbed the now terrified-looking Slytherin's shirt and was pushing him against the wall while Harry watched in admiration, "and I am not putting up with their pureblooded bulls..."

"Kenny!" called the Ravenclaw Head Girl, Sally Fawcett, as Draco whimpered in fear. "Let the pathetic Death Nibbler go. We can tell Dumbledore that we won't work with him. Don't strangle the little boy like he deserves." She looked around. "I'm sure none of you want to do your patrols with this piece of trash."

While the older Slytherin prefects remained silent, Pansy was too stupid to keep her mouth shut. "How can you manhandle Draco like that? When his father..."

"So you want to be on the list, too?" asked Fawcett. "Fine. Maybe we should have put in a special request not to have You-Know-Who sympathizers as prefects." Harry, along with most of the others, chuckled. "Accio, badge!" She summoned Draco's and then Pansy's prefect badge, leaving a hole in their robes. "Now get out, both of you!" Once the two Slytherin fifth-years exited, Sally turned to the others with a smile on her face. "Alright, now that that business is over, let's get this meeting started."