Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Morning

While most people were happily bundled up in the fluffy, warm comforters Hogwarts provided, sleeping in until the sun was high in the sky, Harry was trying to fall back asleep. He was attempting to return to the pleasant dream he'd been having (something about a Hippogriff quest and dancing men in broccoli suits) but it was quickly slipping away as he became more cognizant.

He blamed the frigid temperature surrounding him. Who could fall back asleep when air that was (probably) below freezing was assaulting them from all sides?

That, and the persistent twat who wouldn't stop shaking his shoulder. Really, if his wand were closer, he would hex the fool. Since it wasn't, he was weighing the pros and cons of gut-punching the imbecile who didn't seem to be able to grasp the fact that he. Did. Not. Want. To. Get. Up. And he probably would have done so sooner, if he weren't so certain that particular action wouldn't go over so well with the other person.

"I know you're awake. You moved. This attempt at feigning sleep is absolutely pathetic," Tom said calmly. "But if you really insist on keeping up this façade, I could conjure a bucket of cold water to dump on you, if that would help you get moving. I know how much you appreciated it last time."

Harry, lying on his stomach, squeezed the pillow trapped in his arms tighter and cracked open an eye. "You're remembering wrong," he grumbled, not doubting Tom would follow through on his threat. He had no wish to be taken to the hospital wing so early and as a Harry-sicle.

Tom stopped shaking his shoulder now that an auditory response had been garnered and brought a finger to his chin. "Really?" His voiced dripped surprised innocence. "I could have sworn that last time you thought it was a rather fun game. You were laughing, after all."

"Like I said, you're remembering it wrong. Your brain must be going. Too bad since you're still so young—don't worry, I'm sure there's a potion for that. I mean, how else could you mistake my flailing and sputtering for laughter? Orion was the one who, I believe, found my unfortunately wet disposition to be too humorous to contain his amusement."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter? No? I didn't think so." He plowed on, not giving Harry a chance to argue. "Either way, I didn't come down here and wake you up to discuss exactly how much you appreciated being roused by cold water."

He paused and Harry waited for him to continue with all the patience one could muster in the wee hours of the morning. When it became obvious the other wouldn't continue without prompting (nor would he leave), Harry gave an annoyed grunt and humored him. "Why, then, you decide to wake me, Tom? What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until I was up at a decent time, preferably after the sun?"

"The sun's been out for at least an hour now," Tom countered.

Harry closed his eyes and snuggled further into the warmth of his bed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Then get up and come to Hogsmeade with me."

"No." The hand came back, more fervent in its shaking. In fact, Harry noted absently, if he were to classify it, the "shaking" now was really more like violent shoving. He batted at the hand and rolled away so that he was out of reach and on his back. Opening his eyes, he scowled at Tom. "Please don't tell me you woke me up at seven—"

"Eight-thirty."

"Eight-thirty, just to go to Hogsmeade?" He leveled Tom with the most annoyed glare he could muster. It didn't have the desired effect since the older boy simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Of course." He supposed he must look more like a sleepy cat than a terrifying anything, but Harry tried not to dwell on that thought.

"We're going to Hogsmeade together." Tom's tone left no room for argument. That was fine, though, since Harry had decided at the beginning of the week that he would visit the wizarding village that day, and he'd assumed someone (Tom or Dmitry being the most likely) would accompany him.

"Hogsmeade isn't going anywhere," Harry stated patiently. "I don't see why I can't sleep in until ten-or-so."

"Other than that sleeping in so late is an atrocious habit that should never be nurtured in any way?" Tom looked at him as though Harry were a particularly slow child. "Are you trying to waste your life away? Besides," he leaned over Harry and smirked like a cat that caught the canary, "you haven't finished your holiday shopping. I know because you haven't handed over Dmitry's gift for me to hide in my trunk."

It was true, Harry admitted sullenly to himself. Dmitry could sniff out gifts like a bloodhound, a trick Harry had learned back in their first ear when he caught Dmitry opening his presents early. So, Harry generally gave anything he bought as a surprise for his Russian friend to Tom for safekeeping. Tom's trunk was the better, more secure place to store anything either boy wanted to keep from anyone else. Years of living at the orphanage with other children who enjoyed taking what they wanted, even if it didn't belong to them, had instilled in Tom a paranoia that led to a somewhat obsessive compulsive need to keep all his belongings in one place. One extremely well protected place. So he had warded his trunk against just about all kinds of theft and destruction.

"I was going to buy them when I go to Hogsmeade. Later. Today."

"It's better to get your shopping done earlier during this season, Harry, don't be such a pain about it. You know all the shops will be more crowded this afternoon, once everyone with the same plan as you have gotten their lazy arses up and to Hogsmeade." Darn. Harry hated it when Tom decided to be realistic. "Besides, we won't even get there until ten anyway—what with how quickly you're moving—which only gives us about two and a half hours to shop before we're supposed to meet up with Abraxas, Orion, and Dmitry for lunch at The Three Broomsticks."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, blinking owlishly and confused up at Tom. Did he hear that right? "So... They—I mean, you and I... It's just going to be us? The two of us? Alone?" He had thought once Tom finished with him, the older boy would go wake Dmitry; that Abraxas and Orion were already up, ready and waiting, down in the common room.

Tom scoffed. "Of course. That should have been obvious from what I said. See? Already this radical 'sleeping in' concept is beginning to eat away at your intellect. I informed Abraxas last night that you still had things to buy and told him to keep Dmitry busy until then. Orion wasn't there—probably celebrating the end of term exams with that Ravenclaw prefect; I hope he's being safe—but Abraxas said he'd relay the plan." Tom's hostile posture—he'd crossed his arms—and haughty tone did nothing to distract from or hide the pink tinge that dusted his cheeks.

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AN: I finally updated! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, let me know what ya think.