Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Fashion Frenzie

Tom was absolutely livid when he heard the full and complete story of what had transpired between Harry and Dumbledore. It took all Harry, Dmitry, Abraxas, and Orion's efforts to calm him down and keep him from releasing the basilisk directly on Dumbledore with an order to eat, not simply petrify.

Because he was admittedly concerned that Tom might snap and go back on his promise to leave the Chamber entrance closed and Dumbledore alone, Harry took to staying very near the older boy for the rest of the week. It reminded him of their childhood spent together at the orphanage, glued to each other's side, and how life at Hogwarts had been prior to that year. They had always done everything together, gone everywhere together, and just been all around extremely close. It seemed like Harry once again being almost-constantly around him brought something of the old Tom back out–an occurrence that made Harry rather excited. The older boy was smiling more and less turned in on himself. Orion and Abraxas seemed to appreciate the reversion of Tom's attitude as well, and a happiness that hadn't been there in months once again took root around the trio of sixth years.

Dmitry was just glad Tom's thoughts had turned away from mutilating or murdering his person.

Even Harry's detention with Professor Kettleburn hadn't been that bad. It turned out there had been a sickly thestral foal that needed tending to, and all Kettleburn had needed was for Harry to help distract the older thestrals with plenty of raw meat and wrap the bandages on the foal when the time came. There had been a bit of an unpleasant moment when Professor Kettleburn realized Harry could actually see the thestrals, but with a hurried, "I don't remember," to the question of whom he'd seen die, the situation was happily glossed over.

*
*
*

The week went by pleasantly for just about everyone in the castle, and Saturday brought excitement for Dmitry.

"Slughorn's party is tomorrow, oh I don't know if I have anything to wear–what do you think of this, Harry?"

It was Saturday morning and Harry was currently lying on his stomach, on his bed, flicking absentmindedly through a book on dragon handling. Dmitry was flitting all about the room, grabbing robes from his trunk and holding them up to the floor-length mirror in the other corner of the room before throwing the outfit away and rushing over to find a new one. The rest of their roommates had long since abandoned the dorm.

Glancing up from the roaring picture of a Hebridean Black, Harry took in the deep purple, velvet robes with lace trim. "I liked the blue-violet ones better. Slughorn likes purple a lot, at the moment. You don't want to accidently match with him, do you?"

Dmitry made a face and immediately tossed the robes he was holding to the side and grabbed the ones Harry had suggested. He held them up in front of his body and gazed at himself in the mirror. "Are you sure about these though? I mean, I have a lot of others that aren't in purple, and these aren't that flattering when I put them on..."

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. He was beginning to wish he hadn't invited Dmitry to Slughorn's party. If he had known he'd have to sit through hours of Dmitry playing dress-up...

"Harry, are you paying attention?"

Harry groaned and let his head fall onto the covered mattress. "Merlin, what's so difficult about choosing what to wear to Slughorn's party? It's not like you're going to meet the Queen."

"You never know who might show up," Dmitry chastised. "I don't want to turn up looking like a frumpy homeless person and it turns out the editor of the Daily Prophet is there. What an embarrassment that would be," he finished with a chuckle.

"I doubt you could ever look 'frumpy,' Dmitry," Harry said, though it was muted somewhat by his arm that had been under him when he collapsed. "Not with all your expensive robes..."

The door opened and Harry's head shot up, hoping for salvation. He was not disappointed. In waltzed Abraxas and Orion looking every bit as wealthy as Dmitry hoped to the next night.

"What a delightful color," Abraxas remarked, moving to effectively block Harry from Dmitry's sight.

"Yes, but didn't you wear those to my cousin's birthday ball last August?" Orion put in thoughtfully.

"See, Harry!" Dmitry exclaimed in a half-wail. "I absolutely can't wear these now! Not if someone will recognize that I've worn them recently!" He practically dove, distraught, into his trunk, rummaging for something he could wear instead. While he was distracted, Orion and Abraxas each grabbed Harry by an arm and dragged him across the room, shoving him out and closing the door behind his disoriented form. Harry did note, however, that when he was tossed so unceremoniously from his dorm, he happened to run into a taller body and said body was currently helping him from tripping over his own feet.

"Careful, there."

Harry looked up, one hand clutching the material of the taller person's robes to keep himself upright. "Tom!" he blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you, it would seem, from a rather untimely death by stairs," the older boy said with a small smile. "And instructing Abraxas, who loves this sort of thing, to take over where you're failing with Dmitry. Orion, being Abraxas' very close friend for many years, is quite used to the lives of the fashion forward we find so tedious, and has elected to stay in there as a third opinion."

"Thanks," was all Harry's flabbergasted mind was able to come up with.

"It's nothing." Tom released Harry, stepping away and heading up the steps. He halted as they turned, about to go out of view. "Walk with me?"

Harry followed without saying anything and the two climbed to the common room. A scattering of Slytherins were sitting around doing homework or gossiping, but Tom passed them all by, heading straight out the exit into the drafty dungeon.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked when the wall had closed.

"Outside. It's snowed again."

The two walked the halls in companionable silence, passing no students until they reached the entrance hall. There was a low rumble of noise emanating from the Great Hall, but that was because so many students and teachers alike were fond of sleeping in on the weekends and enjoying a late breakfast. Harry hadn't been privy to that choice, though, since Dmitry had woken him up at an ungodly hour because a pimple had sprung up on the tip of his nose. It's brightness had given him the look of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer from a Christmas special Harry had seen in the nineties, and all he'd done was laugh. Which might have been why Dmitry was torturing him with an exclusive showing of the Russian's entire wardrobe.

They crossed the threshold of the castle and trudged through the snow, still without exchanging any words. They gave a snowball fight being led by a few Gryffindor sixth years against the Ravenclaw beaters wide berth, circling around them until they had reached the edge of the Forest. For a moment, Harry thought they would continue their journey into the woods, but when they reached the trees, Tom made an abrupt ninety-degree turn, walking instead along its edge.

Harry trailed a few paces behind; scanning the white blanket winter left spread over the spacious grounds. Other than those partaking in the snowball fight, not many people were outside at the moment, and when Harry and Tom followed a bend in the tree line, they were completely obscured from view. The silence between them left Harry feeling nervous and fidgety. It wasn't awkward, but he felt a pressure on his shoulders to say something–to do something.