Eagle's Flight // Frarry

Year 5.8

It's been almost a whole month *awkward wave* But at least you got a handy recap to go back to

"And that bitch Parkinson just had to open her mouth again! I swear if Fred wasn't holding me back, I would've hexed her!"

Harry had gone straight to the Room of Requirments, wishing for something to help him calm down. It had helped somewhat, but then he got the urge to mirror-call his parents, who were more than happy to sit there in silence while he got what he needed to say off his chest.

"He called Fred a hooligan and compared my parents to them," Harry went on.

Both Sirius and Remus tensed but didn't speak.

"And then she insulted Moony and Luna. Basically said they're in the same category."

"Trust me, Harry, that's not the worst I've heard," Remus said.

"Well, yeah, but—" Harry jerked his head around at the sound of footsteps.

It was Fred, who looked as bedraggled as Remus did around a full moon. "Hey."

"Didn't you have detention?" Harry asked. Lucius Malfoy had assigned it to both twins, and Harry didn't think they'd be out so soon.

"He let us off early," Fred said. He caught sight of the mirror. "Hi, Sirius, Professor Lupin."

"I'm not your professor anymore, Fred," Remus reminded him as Sirius waved.

"Wish you were. Malfoy's a git." Fred plopped down next to Harry. "So what are we talking about?"

"About Parkinson being a little bitch," Harry said.

Fred wrinkled his nose. "Ah."

Sirius suddenly had a brilliant idea. "You know, Fred," he began in a casual tone, "Harry has had plenty to say about you, too."

"Oh, really?" Fred looked at Harry, who had gone very pink and looked as though he wished he were anywhere but there. "And what would that be?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Absolutely nothing."

"I somehow doubt it. Sirius, why don't you tell me?"

"Brilliant idea, Freddie," Sirius said.

"No!" Harry shook his head rapidly. "Bad idea! Very bad!"

"'Fred disarmed George three times in a row,'" Sirius said in a terrible impression of Harry. "'And when George disarmed him—"

The mirror clattered to the floor as Harry lunged at Fred, covering his ears. "That's enough, Padfoot."

"— he had to lean over to grab his wand—"

"Remus, stop him!"

Remus had his hands pressed tightly over his mouth. "Sorry, Harry," he managed to get out, his face just as red as Harry's. "But Fred has the right to know."

Fred wriggled free and wrapped his arms around Harry, preventing him from leaving. "Go on."

"He said your arse is nice," Sirius said.

"Yeah, well," Harry spluttered, "George said you think my arse is nice, too!"

"We're not talking about that," Fred said quickly, and Remus and Sirius burst out laughing. "We're talking about how awesome and talented I am and how pretty my arse is."

Harry groaned loudly and buried his face in Fred's robes.

"Well, that was fun," Sirius said, wiping his eyes. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Yeah," was the muffled reply.

Sirius and Remus disappeared from the mirror.

Harry raised his head. "I'm never going to live this down."

"Trust me, Harrykins, this isn't the most embarrassing thing that can happen."

"It is for me."

Fred laughed. "Remus is going to kill me. He told me not to corrupt you, but you're dramatic as hell."

The next D.A. meeting took place right before the holidays. Everyone was making excellent progress, and Harry could not feel prouder.

"You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff— maybe even Patronuses."

Fred hung back again. "You should become a professor," he said.

"Maybe." Harry shrugged. "Haven't really thought about it."

Fred's eyes drifted toward the ceiling over his head. "Mistletoe."

"Yeah," said Harry. "It's probably full of Nargles, though."

Fred leaned in and kissed him on the lips eagerly, arm wrapped around Harry's waist to keep him close.

When they broke apart, Harry said, "I don't need a mistletoe to kiss you."

"Me, neither."

If only his dreams went as smoothly as their conversation.

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly and threw up over the side of the bed.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Anthony was watching him in concern. "Should I get Professor Flitwick?"

"No, I can get him," Harry rasped, scrambling to get out of the bed.

"Are you sure?" Terry was speaking now. "It would be faster if one of us go."

"Okay," Harry relented.

His dormmates exchanged glances; Harry must feel really sick if he gave in so quickly.

Michael jumped up and ran for the door.

"What is it?" Anthony asked tentatively. "Is it You-Know-Who?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Harry shuddered as he remembered feeling the blood seeping from the wound in Mr. Weasley's side.

At that moment, Michael returned with Professor Flitwick in tow.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Mr. Weasley was attacked," Harry got out in a rush. "At the Ministry."

He was too anxious to care that his dormmates were listening to every word.

Flitwick stared at him uncomprehendingly. "We need to tell the headmaster," he said after a moment. "Come."

Weak with relief, Harry slid out of bed and followed him out of the Ravenclaw Tower.

For both Eagle's Flight and ALHS, I have really exciting parts coming up, but I have to write to get there. The audacity!