-Peace-
-all these people think love's for show-
-but i would die for you in secret-
Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.
Bria welcomed the cold weather easily; she always appreciated the biting cold compared to the sweltering heat. Growing up in the bakery, it made the hot ovens much more bearable, and the wind chill of the night was a pleasant feeling when she went to bed at night.
She has gotten quite used to hanging out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and all of the drama that entails it. Her and Harry have figured out a great system, splitting their times evenly between Hermione and Ron, who were still on the outs.
Bria has to be honest, she's not quite sure which one is more pleasant to be around. Sure, Ron was in a much better mood nowadays, laughing and smiling as opposed to his natural moody and grumpy mood he had been sporting for quite some time now.
But being around Ron meant being around Lavender, who seemed to regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted.
Hermione did not have a man that was sucking her face all day, a nice break from Ron and his constant show of public affection. But that means that all Hermione does all day is complain about Ron, and what him and Lavender could be doing, and why she doesn't care even though it's obvious to everyone that she cares very much.
Although, Ron wasn't doing much better, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione's bird attack, began taking a defensive and resentful tone.
"She can't complain," he says to Bria and Harry. "She snogged Krum. So she's found out someone wants to snog me, too. Well, it's a free country. I haven't done anything wrong."
Harry nor Bria answered him, figuring out the best way to manage the peace with everyone was to simply not speak at all.
"I never promised Hermione anything," Ron mumbles. "I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said ... just as friends ... I'm a free agent ..."
Harry turns a page of Quintessence while Bria pretends to be reading over his shoulder, aware that Ron was watching them. Ron's voice tailed away in mutters, barely audible over the loud crackling of the fire, though Bria thinks she caught the words 'Krum' and 'can't complain' again.
Hermione's timetable was so full that Bria and Harry could only talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was in any case so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what Harry was doing.
Hermione refuses to sit in the common room while Ron is there, so Harry and Bria generally join her in the library, which meant that their conversations were held in whispers.
"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes," Hermione says, while the librarian, Madam Pince, prowls the shelves behind them. "I really couldn't care less."
She raises her quill and dots an 'i' so ferociously that she punctures a hole in her parchment.
Bria sketches an outline of Harry absentmindedly, watching as he bends a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and continues to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.
"And incidentally," Hermione says, after a few moments, "you need to be careful."
"For the last time," Harry says, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in –"
"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," Hermione whispers, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her, "I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work –"
"Why didn't you confiscate them, then?" Harry demands.
"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," Hermione says scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics."
"Why would they even think it would work? I'm supposed to be dating Bria."
Bria stops sketching to explain to him. "Fred and George made love potions for commercial use. It doesn't matter if you're dating someone or not. Besides, you didn't formally ask me out."
Harry frowns. "We're dating, shouldn't it be implied that I'm taking you?"
"An invitation would hurt," Bria grumbles under her breath, trying to conceal her words by saying them so close to the parchment her nose was nearly touching it.
"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," Hermione says grimly.
She hitches up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continues to scratch away with her quill. Harry watches her with his mind a long way away.
"Hang on a moment," he says slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"
"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" Hermione asks, still concentrating on her essay.
"But I thought all the owls were being searched? So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"
"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," Bria says, continuing to sketch away. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."
"Yeah, well, never mind that," Harry says quickly. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school –?"
"Oh, Harry ... not that again ..." Hermione drawls on.
"Come on, why not?"
"Look," Hermione sighs. "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register – and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous –"
"Easy for you to say," Harry mutters.
"– so it would be down to Filch to realise it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from –"
Hermione stops dead, Bria pauses her sketching while Harry sucks in a breath. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves.
They wait and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Madam Pince appear round the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.
"The library is now closed," she says. "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct – what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"
"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" Harry says hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunges at it with a claw-like hand.
"Despoiled!" she hisses. "Desecrated! Befouled!"
"It's just a book that's been written in!" Harry says, tugging it out of her grip.
She looks as though she might have a seizure while Bria grabs Harry by the arm to pull him away as Hermione hastily packs her things.
"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?" Hermione admonishes.
"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione. Or d'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might be something going on between them ..."
"Oh, ha, ha ..."
Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they make their way along the deserted, lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.
"Baubles," Harry says to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.
"Same to you," the Fat Lady says with a roguish grin, and she swings forwards to admit them.
"Hi, Harry!" Romilda Vane says, the moment they climb through the portrait hole. "Fancy a Gillywater?"
"No thanks," Harry says quickly, grabbing Bria's hand with a tight grip. "I don't like it much."
"Well, take these anyway," Romilda says, thrusting a box into his free hand. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got Firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them very much."
"Oh – right – thanks a lot," Harry says, who could not think what else to say. "Er – I'm just going over here with ..."
He hurries off behind Hermione, his voice tailing away feebly while pulling Bria as close to him as humanly possible.
"Told you," Hermione says succinctly. "You have to ask out Bria, preferably in public, if you-"
But her face suddenly turns blank; she had just spotted Ron and Lavender who were entwined in the same armchair.
She turns to Bria, her eyes wide with alarm. "I have something to tell you tomorrow in Arthimancy."
Bria turns to look at Harry, who looks equally as confused. "Can't you just tell me now?"
Hermione glances at Harry nervously. "He'll know soon enough. Just not now."
"Okay," Bria says, her voice trailing off in suspicion. But she turns to Harry anyway, and he leans forward to peck her quickly on the lips.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Harry says.
"See you tomorrow," she says, bidding them both goodbye and leaving herself to wonder what could possibly Hermione has to say to her.
Bria should've known that Hermione's plan was a recipe for disaster.
"Cormac McLaggen?" she whispers to Hermione, secretly judging her but not trying to show it too much.
Hermione taps her quill anxiously. "I know he would make Ron jealous!"
"Yeah, but, he's a sod. You won't even be having fun."
"I'll be with you and Harry, won't I? It can't possibly be that bad."
Bria tries in her mind to think of the best way to let her down gently, and explain to her that if Hermione were to bring Cormac, then Bria and Harry would rather do anything else then hang around him.
"It doesn't matter, Bria. I just need you to do what I asked. Can you do that?"
She smiles impishly. "Moody doesn't call me a great actress for nothing."
So when Hermione and Bria split up to go to their next classes, Hermione to Transfiguration, Bria to Herbology, with the promise that Bria was going to head to Transifguration in hopes to complete their plan there.
She was quite confused when she made her way to Professor McGonagall's classroom to find Hermione no longer there.
Instead, Harry was carrying Hermione's book bag, with her nowhere to be seen.
"Where did Hermione go? She told me to meet her after class."
"Hermione and Ron had another fight. She went to the bathroom, I was going to wait for her there."
Bria tries not to sigh. "That just means we'll have to do it in the common room."
Harry nearly trips. "Do what in the common room?"
"Oh, you'll see."
He struggles to sputter out a reply but Bria pays no mind, she walks with Harry to the bathroom that Hermione decided to hide in.
"So, I was thinking how I should ask you to Slughorn's party-"
"Don't worry about it, Harry. I have another plan for that as well."
Said plan comes flying in the form of Peeves at the end of the hallway, the fastest way to spread news around the school. "Oh, there's Peeves. Brilliant," she says, turning to Harry. "Ask me out."
Harry frowns. "Now? In front of Peeves?"
Peeves was flying dangerously close to them, and if he overhears them trying to plan out Bria's invitation to the party, he wouldn't hesitate to let everyone know that their whole relationship is a lie.
"Just do it, Potter!"
"Okay, uh, Bria, I know we have been dating for an extremely long time and there is no reason for me to do this, but, would you like to go to Slughorn's party with me?"
Perfect. Just in times for Peeves to fly by and overhear the end of Harry's question.
"Are you going to answer him or what, Brioche?"
Bria, who had a perfectly planned response, had stuttered and turned to him. "How did you know my real name?"
"What's your answer?"
"Well, yes, of course."
Peeves laughs maniacally as he flies away. "Potty loves Brioche! Potty loves Brioche!"
"Well, that's checked off. Let's go find Hermione now," she says to Harry, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bathroom.
"I don't understand, you were complaining yesterday how I didn't ask you."
Bria tries not to roll her eyes. "The party is tomorrow evening, Harry. We were on a time crunch. And besides, you were right. We're not actually together, you didn't need to ask me."
"That's not what I meant-"
But just as they reach the bathroom, the door swings open and Hermione walks out the door, her smile so forced Bria thought her cheeks will burst open.
"Hermione?" Harry says carefully, almost with fear in his voice.
"I am perfectly fine," she says, her voice unusually chipper.
"Right..."
"I assume everyone went back to the common room?" Hermione asks Harry, and although she didn't specifically say Ron, Bria knows that's who she really wants to talk about.
"Uh, yeah, I think everyone went back."
"Great! Let's go, Bria. I need to figure out what I'm going to wear."
Hermione yanks Bria by the arm while Harry follows, still carrying Hermione's bag.
By the time they reach the common room of the Gryffindor Tower, and Bria sees Ron, Lavender, and Parvati sitting by the fire, Bria knows that it's time for their plan.
"Hermione, you should wear that pink dress, I know Cormac will love it," Bria says, much more louder than necessary, but it was important to get Ron's attention.
"Cormac?" Harry says, and although he wasn't apart of the plan, he sure seems to do a good job adding to it.
Hermione walks over to the girl's staircase that is conveniently next to the fireplace. "Yes, he's picking me up at eight and-"
There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink and Ron surfaced. Hermione acts as though she had not seen or heard anything.
"– we're going up to the party together."
"Cormac McLaggen?" Harry asks, still bewildered.
"That's right. The one who almost," she puts a great deal of emphasis on the word, "became Gryffindor Keeper."
"Are you going to go out with him if he asks?" Bria asks, sneaking a peek at Ron to see his face grow red with anger.
Hermione giggles. Actually giggles. "I want to, he's pretty fit, right?"
"Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen ..."
"I like really good Quidditch players. Well, see you ... got to go and get ready for the party ..."
When she leaves, Lavender and Parvati put their heads together to discuss this new development, with everything they had ever heard about McLaggen, and all they had ever guessed about Hermione while Ron looked strangely blank and said nothing.
Bria turns to Harry, who has the most confused look on his face, but seems to realize that he would never understand a woman's mind.
"I'll meet you by the Great Hall at eight?" Bria asks.
Harry nods, then leans down to peck her on the lips. "See you at eight."
The walk back to the Ravenclaw Tower took far longer than it should, but with the way that Hermione dragged Bria all the way to Gryffindor Tower left her leg slightly sore.
She gets ready while her friends begin to drink in her room, having one last hurrah before everyone has to part ways for holiday break. She banned them from smoking, not wanting the smell to stick to her dress.
"Looking good, Brioche!" Michael says, his eyes glassy.
It's the first time Bria has worn a dress or heels since her injury, and she has never felt more uncomfortable. She used to be one that loved getting ready; wearing dresses and heels, putting on makeup and curling her hair.
But that was before Bria had half of her leg amputated, before she had to wear a prosthesis. She chose to wear a long gown, one that covered her leg but had a slit on the right side, so she wasn't completely restricted. She made the tough decision to wear heels, only around two inches at most, just so she could feel a little bit more fancy.
She had to adjust her false-foot to fit the heel properly, and it took quite some time adjusting, but she was able to make it work. She just hopes that nobody looks at her feet, and while she's wearing closed-toed heels, somebody could still see the top of her foot.
She leaves significantly early, knowing that she'll have to walk slower than usual with the heels on. After quite some time of her walking extremely slowly, she reaches Harry at the Great Hall.
He smiles at her, and Bria doesn't think there's a trace of falsity in his tone. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you," she says, quite self-consciously. "I wasn't sure how I would look with my leg-"
"Nobody will be paying attention to your leg, Bria. Trust me," he says, trying to focus on her face but Bria can see how his eyes keep darting to her chest, that was accentuated from the deep v-neckline that her dress had.
She smiles, and wraps her arm around his. "Shall we go?"
He nods, and the two walk to Slughorn's office in comfortable silence, although they had to walk slower to accommodate Bria's leg.
Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study.
The ceiling and walls were draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so it looks as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.
Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.
"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn booms, almost as soon as Bria and Harry had squeezed in through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet!"
Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry's arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn leads him purposefully into the party; Harry seizes Bria's hand and drags her along with him.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires – and, of course, his friend Sanguini."
Worple, who was a small, bespectacled man, grabs Harry's hand and shakes it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nods. He looks rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.
"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" Worple says, peering short-sightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?"
"Er, were you?"
"Just as modest as Horace described! But seriously –" his manner changes; it suddenly became businesslike, "I would be delighted to write it myself – people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you – ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite – Sanguini, stay here!" Worple adds, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging towards the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye.
"My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea –"
"I'm definitely not interested," Harry says firmly, "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."
He pulls Bria away towards the edge of the room, and Bria can see Hermione's big hair beside the snack table.
"Hermione! Hermione!"
"Harry, Bria! There you are, thank goodness!"
"What's happened to you?" Harry asks, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.
"Oh, I've just escaped – I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she adds in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her while Bria looks at her empathetically.
"Serves you right for coming with him," he tells her severely.
"I thought he'd annoy Ron most. I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole –"
"You considered Smith?" Harry says, revolted.
"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall ...'
They walk over to the windows, hiding behind the curtain.
"Let's get something straight," Harry says seriously. "Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"
"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"
"Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen –"
"There's a difference. I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."
"Good. Because he'll just fall apart again and we'll lose the next match –"
"Quidditch! Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen non-stop, ever since – oh no, here he comes!"
She moves so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next she squeezes between two guffawing witches and vanishes.
"Seen Hermione?" McLaggen asks, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.
Bria wraps her arms around Harry and pulls him close to her. "No, sorry. I'll let you know if I see her though!"
She waits for him to walk away, and just as she's about to let go of Harry, Professor Trelawney walks up to them, and Harry shifts so his arm is wrapped around her side, gripping it so tightly she thinks Harry would rather die than speak to her.
"Harry! I must ask, why would you stop taking Divination? You of all people, The Chosen One, should know that prophecies mean everything?"
Harry squeezes his arm tighter. "Oh, well professor-"
"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" Slughorn says, appearing at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions! Instinctive, you know – like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill – why, even Severus –"
And to Harry's horror, and to Bria's humor, Professor Snape is pulled from the crowd and now by Slughorn's side.
"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus! I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"
Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looks down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.
"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."
"Well, then, it's natural ability! You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, the Draught of Living Death – never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus –"
"Really?" Snape says quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet.
"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" Slughorn asks.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology ..."
"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," Snape says, with the faintest sneer.
"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to be," Harry says defiantly.
"And a great one you'll make, too!" Slughorn booms.
Before Harry, or Snape, could make another smart remark, the door swings open with Malfoy being dragged by the ear by Filch.
"Professor Slughorn," Filch wheezes, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"
Malfoy pulls himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.
"All right, I wasn't invited," he says angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"
"No, I'm not!" Filch says, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"
"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," Slughorn says, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."
Filch turns and shuffles away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly blank.
"It's nothing, nothing," Slughorn says, waving away Malfoy's thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all ..."
"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," Malfoy says quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known ..."
Bria takes the time to observe Malfoy, and see if there were any signs that Harry's suspicion might be correct. Malfoy did, in fact, look a little ill. This was the first time she has seen Malfoy close up for ages; she now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly greyish tinge to his skin.
"I'd like a word with you, Draco," Snape says suddenly.
"Oh, now, Severus," Slughorn says, hiccoughing again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard –"
"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be. Follow me, Draco."
They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful.
She looks over at Harry, who is still looking at the door that Malfoy and Snape had exited. He looks over at her, his eyes pleading and desperate.
She sighs. "Go, it's fine."
"Are you sure? I can-"
"I'm sure. go find out whatever it is they're talking about."
He didn't need to be told twice. His arm still wrapped around her body, he pulls her closer to kiss her on the side of the head. "I'll tell you what I find out tomorrow."
And with that, he leaves. Bria doesn't mind, she's used to him leaving anyway.
AN:
I hope you liked this chapter, because the next one is going to be super angsty, and not very good for Bria. Oops! But did you really think their relationship was gonna keep being smooth sailing? I think now Bria just brushes off everything that Harry is doing because she doesn't think any of it is genuine. Harry still hasn't quite admitted his feelings, to himself or to her. That will be a major problem in the next few chapters, sorry ;)