Book: Courage
Chapter 86
Word Count: 5180
Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Layla, Ron, Hermione, Katie's friend Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.
"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron, Layla, and Hermione. Only Layla seemed to agree with him whereas Ron and Hermione continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. At first, Layla hadn't believed it, but things had started to make sense with Draco being a Death Eater.
Layla had Herbology first thing on Tuesday morning. The weekend's brutal wind had died out at last; the weird mist had returned and it took them a little longer than usual to find the correct greenhouse. Harry was explaining what had happened with Dumbledore the night before.
"I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?" said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this term's project, and began pulling on their protective gloves.
"Dunno," said Harry. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survives
"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"
"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Layla asked her.
"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous exploits a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones?"
"Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?" Layla added in surprise.
"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but—"
"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"
They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.
"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when she had turned away again, "should ve used Muffliato, Harry."
"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on... we'd better get going..."
She gave the other three an apprehensive look; they all took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled stump between them.
It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramblelike vines flew out of the top and whipped through the air. One tangled itself in Hermione's hair, and Ron beat it back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeded in trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; a hole opened in the middle of all the tentaclelike branches; Hermione plunged her arm bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around her elbow; Harry, Layla, and Ron tugged and wrenched at the vines, forcing the hole to open again, and Hermione snatched her arm free, clutching in her fingers a pod just like Neville's. At once, the prickly vines shot back inside, and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood.
"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," said Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.
"Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Layla handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.
"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, turning to Layla and Harry, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, guys, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
Layla and Harry exchanged similar looks, both groaning. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"
"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione. The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat. Layla went to retrieve the pod; when she got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club'—"
"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Draco. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—"
"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"
"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.
"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen..."
"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.
While Ron and Hermione spoke, Harry turned to Layla.
"Lays? I wanted to ask you about Dean."
Layla threw him a sideways glance.
"What about Dean?"
"It's just that," Harry paused, "wait, are things all right with you two? I mean, I haven't spoken to you about him since Madam Puddifoot's."
"Oh, that," said Layla. "Things are fine, mostly. I mean, they're a little awkward, but..."
"How on Earth," Harry wondered, "did you ever get him over that?"
"Snogging, mostly," Layla replied with a shrug.
"Right," Harry said quickly, going scarlet, and the subject was dropped.
"Hand that over, Lay," said Hermione hurriedly, gesturing to the pod in the bowl that Layla now held. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp..."
Layla passed her the pod in the bowl; they dived, once more, for the stump.
"Gotcha!" yelled Ron, pulling a second pod from the stump just as Hermione managed to burst the first one open, so that the bowl was full of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.
The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party. Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual.
Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising Gryffindor team was one Chaser short.
Layla was packing her things at the end of Transfiguration one day, talking to Dean and Seamus, when Harry walked over and turned to Dean.
"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?"
"Wha—? Yeah, of course!" said Dean excitedly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Layla saw Seamus Finnegan slamming his books into his bag, looking sour.
"Well then, you're in," said Harry. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."
"Right," said Dean. "Cheers, Harry!"
"See you at practice, too, Lays," said Harry before nodding at Dean and walking off.
"Layla! I'm on the team!" said Dean cheerfully.
"Dean, that's marvelous!" Layla grinned. Dean picked her up and spun her around, planting her down and giving her a kiss.
"Mr Thomas, Miss Lupin, that will be quite enough of that!" Professor McGonagall called. She was still sat at her desk.
"Sorry, Professor," they answered in unison, collecting their things and finally leaving the classroom with Seamus trailing behind miserably.
"Isn't this fantastic?" Dean went on. "Now we can be on the team together."
"It is," Layla said, and meant it. "I'm thrilled."
She felt for Seamus though, but figured he'd soon get over it. Seamus wasn't the type of bloke to let most things stick. As Dean went on about Quidditch and strategies and what-not as they made their way to lunch, Layla felt a wave of gratefulness and good will towards Harry wash over her. He surely didn't realize it, but putting Dean on the Quidditch team had probably saved her relationship.
She returned to her conversation with Dean, and they happily chatted away about the evening's coming practice as they entered the Great Hall. Yes, this would certainly help things work out for the two of them, no question about that.
But later that evening, Seamus was not the only person disgruntled by the choice of Katie's substitute. There was much muttering in the common room about the fact that Harry had now chosen three of his class-mates for the team.
Their Quidditch practice that evening was one of the worst practices they had had all term. Layla knew that.
"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin," Harry said, and the team left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves. Layla approached Harry.
"You liar," said Layla teasingly, a small smile on her face. Harry returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"We'll get there eventually. Or at least I hope we do."
"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny.
"No, you didn't," said Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron."
"Your only problem is nerves," added Layla. "Anyway, I'm going to go catch up with the team. See you guys later."
Waving goodbye, Layla made her way out of the changing rooms.
"That went pretty well, don't you think?" said Dean as soon as he saw her.
Clamping her mouth shut, Layla glanced around at the rest of the team. They were all watching her, anxiously, waiting to hear her take on their chances this weekend.
"It was brilliant," she lied with a smile. "We'll kill 'em."
Peakes and Coote slapped hands. Dean put his arm around Layla's shoulders. She joined them in their good cheer, secretly aware that Harry was going to have to work some real magic on Ron for a rookie team like this to have a chance against Slytherin.
As they made their way up to the castle and towards Gryffindor Tower, Layla and Dean slowly fell behind the younger students, whispering and laughing quietly to each other, just like a real boyfriend and girlfriend, Layla realized. In the second floor corridor, suddenly and quite without warning, Dean pulled Layla aside, pushing open a tapestry to reveal a darkened staircase that she knew was a shortcut back to the Fat Lady's portrait. She had a notion, though, that a shortcut was the last thing on Dean's mind.
"What's this?" she said innocently, playing along.
"I'll show you," Dean grinned, offering his hand to help her through the secret entrance. Layla ignored that most irritating of gestures, and instead smiled coyly and allowed herself to be guided through.
Once inside, the tapestry fell back to where it had been, plunging them into near total darkness. A faint flickering light came shining down the winding staircase; Layla knew from experience that this was from a torch burning near the other entrance to the passage up above.
"So," said Layla, "what's in here?"
"Absolutely nothing," Dean responded with a wicked grin, reaching for her in the near total darkness, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her.
She responded, running her hand up to his face, reminding herself that, for all his imperfections, her boyfriend did know how to kiss. It was never much more than a kiss, mind you, but it was certainly a kiss. She simply could not deny that. The emotion, she assumed, would come later. But for now, the snogging itself would do.
A few minutes had passed, minutes which Layla was thoroughly enjoying, when...
"Oi!"
She knew the voice. Dean quickly pulled away from her, startled and red-faced, and she turned to face Ron.
Only it wasn't just Ron standing there, holding the tapestry that hid the passage entrance up high. Of course it wasn't. It was Ron and Harry.
Harry.
She felt as though somewhere, deep inside herself, she had betrayed something she did not even know existed. And she had no idea, no idea at all, why she suddenly felt all of these things when she saw the stunned look on Harry's face.
Rather than let her own sudden flurry of emotion betray her, she did not even let her gaze settle on Harry, and turned her focus to Ron. Ron, she could deal with.
"What?" said Layla.
"I don't want to find you snogging people in public, Lay!"
"Why?" Layla couldn't help but roll her eyes, willing herself to stay focused on Ron, ignoring Harry as best she could. Harry, standing quietly, still in shock. "It's not your business, Ronald. It's not like I'm your sister."
"You may as well be!" said Ron loudly, effectively silencing Layla, who looked stunned.
Ron really saw her as a sister?
Dean was looking embarrassed.
"Er, c'mon, Layla," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room."
"You go," said Layla. "I want a word with my friends."
Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.
"Right," said Layla, tossing her long brown and pink hair out of her face, careful still not to look at Harry, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron—"
"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D'you think I want people saying you're a—"
"A what?" shouted Layla,. "A what, exactly?"
"He doesn't mean anything, Layla—" said Harry.
"Yes, he does!" she said, flaring up at Harry, and the moment she looked at him, she felt a lump form in her throat. She turned back to Ron. "Ron, I get that you're trying to protect me but can't you just stay out of it?! This is all new to me! Dean is so different than what Cedric was like, okay? Cedric was the perfect gentleman, but Dean? He's... something else entirely. Can't you just let me figure out what version of a guy I like the most? Let me live my life! I'm almost seventeen, for Merlin's sake!"
Layla then found her gaze had drifted back to Harry, and she was in a near panic, hoping he wasn't judging her too harshly. With those terrifying thoughts flying forth unbidden from the back of her head, she turned desperately on Ron.
"I'm sorry," said Ron much quieter. The mention of Cedric seemed to knock some sense into him. "It's just that you've always been like a sister to me. I care about you a lot."
"I know you do, but please drop the protective brother act. I need some breathing room," said Layla, calming down. It was silent for a few minutes before a smile suddenly graced Layla's features. "You really think of me as your sister?"
"Of course I do, Lay."
"I've always wanted a brother," Layla revealed softly.
"So, we're good?" asked Ron, as Harry was still stood to the side, his eyes never leaving Layla.
"Of course," said Layla. "As long as you don't start arguments for the rest of my life whenever I snog a guy."
"No promises," Ron chuckled.
The three of them headed back to the common room together and Layla bid the boys farewell, heading up to bed and eventually drifting off to sleep.
On Saturday morning, the morning of the Quidditch game, breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall.
The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry, Layla, and Ron approached. Both Layla and Harry grinned and waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head.
"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!"
Ron ignored her.
"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.
A few minutes later, Hermione paused on her way up the table.
"How are you guys feeling?" she asked tentatively.
"Good," Layla lied. She was dreading the game.
"Fine," said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."
Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.
"Don't drink that, Ron!"
Harry, Layla, and Ron all looked up at her.
"Why not?" said Ron.
Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe her eyes.
"You just put something in that drink."
"Excuse me?" said Harry.
"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.
"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp.
"Stop bossing me around, Hermione."
She stormed up the table away from them.
"Nearly time!" said Harry blithely.
The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium.
"Pretty lucky the weather's this good," said Layla.
"Yeah," said Ron, who was pale and sick-looking.
Ginny was already wearing her Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room.
"Conditions look ideal," said Ginny. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that — Malfoy's gone off sick too!"
"What?" said Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"
"No idea, but it's great for us," said Ginny brightly. "They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."
"Fishy, isn't it?" Harry said in an undertone to Layla and Ron. "Malfoy not playing?"
"Lucky, I call it," said Ron, looking slightly more animated. "And Vaisey off too, he's their best goal scorer, I didn't fancy — hey!" he said suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keepers gloves and staring at Harry.
"What?"
"I... you..." Ron had dropped his voice, he looked both scared and excited. "My drink... my pumpkin juice... you didn't...?"
"You didn't," realisation suddenly dawned on Layla. "Harry, please tell me you didn't."
She was almost completely certain now that what Hermione had saw Harry tip into Ron's drink was Felix Felicis.
Harry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing except, "We'll be starting in about five minutes."
They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too. Amidst all the yelling and clapping, Layla could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.
Harry stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.
"Captains shake hands," she said, and Harry shook hands with the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle... three... two... one..."
The whistle sounded.
Layla and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. Then a voice that was jarringly different to the usual commentator's started up.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help."
These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Layla craned around on his broom to look toward the commentator's podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan's; Layla recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player.
The Slytherin Chasers were passing the Quaffle furiously, looking for a scoring lane that the Gryffindors were refusing to allow them. Ginny almost snatched it back for Gryffindor on one errant toss, but then a well-aimed Bludger cut Dean off from a defensive route and gave the Slytherin captain, Urquhart, a clear run on goal. Grimacing, Layla accelerated towards him, but even as she did, she knew she'd never make it in time. Urquhart was bearing down on Ron, decked right, decked left, took the shot, and Ron made it look easy, snagging the shot casually in one hand.
The red and gold contingent of the crowd roared as Ron held the ball aloft, tossing it downfield towards Layla. Catching it, Layla turned towards the Slytherin end of the pitch to a renewed roar of the crowd, Ginny and Dean flanking her on either side in a flying 'V'.
At that moment, Harry dove in between them, scattering the Slytherin Chasers; Layla could tell immediately he was either searching for the Snitch or faking a sighting, but hadn't actually seen it. His action, however, was enough to confuse Crabbe and Goyle, manning their usual Beaters positions, and they frantically aimed the Bludgers at Harry, giving Layla and her wingmen the split-second opening they needed to rocket downfield, passing the Quaffle amongst themselves. They came spiraling towards Bletchley, the poor Slytherin Chaser, who was now trying to block in three directions at once. When they reached the point-of-no-return, it was Layla who had possession of the Quaffle, and with a simple flip of her wrist, she lobbed it over Bletchley's shoulder and through the hoop.
"That's one," she murmured to herself as the crowd cheered its approval.
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Layla having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the Layla and Ron were only there because Harry liked them, and he started on Peakes and Coote instead.
"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater," said Zacharias loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle—"
It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favorite 'Weasley Is Our King,' he pretended to conduct them from on high.
Ron had just made another save and tossed the Quaffle back to Layla when she heard Dean, Peakes, and Coote all cry out in protest. Glancing up, she saw Harper zipping upwards and away from Harry, who was righting himself, clearly having been rammed by the Slytherin Seeker. Harry took off after him, seemingly determined to ram him back, but Layla was already speeding towards them, Quaffle in hand, because she saw what Harry did not seem to: Harper had spotted the Snitch.
"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. "Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!"
Split-seconds later, Harry bent low on his broom; now he had seen it. Still, Harper was ahead of him, closing in on the tiny golden ball quickly; fast as he was, Harry would never reach him in time. If Layla could get in range, perhaps hurl the Quaffle at Harper. She'd be penalized for a foul, but the game would go on. As soon as the thought was hatched, however, she let it die, as it was clear she, also, would not reach him in time. She desperately urged her broom forward, pushing it to its limits.
And then, just when Harper's fingers were moments away from victory, Harry shouted something at him, something she couldn't make out. Whatever it was, though, it worked, as Harper turned around in surprise and immediately overflew the Snitch. Harry, however, did not, and with one sweep of his arm, snatched the ball out of the sky.
As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
Layla's momentum carried her above him, and as she took a lazier turn, she flew right past a dumbfounded Harper.
"I'll bet you wish Malfoy had played now," she said to him, earning herself a foul look in return.
With a grin, she pointed her broom back down, but not towards the Gryffindor team's celebratory scrum. Instead, she aimed her broom towards the commentator's podium, where Smith was droning on about the 'clearly illegal distraction technique pulled by Gryffindor captain Harry Potter'.
He did not notice her until she was almost on top of him, at which point his eyes went wide and his face went white, his jaw dropping open in mid-sentence as Layla swung the tail of her broom around, slamming into the podium in a hard power slide, taking the brunt of the impact with the resilient straw end of the broom and her shin guards.
Layla hopped clear as the entire structure collapsed, pulling her broom away as Smith was covered in shattered and splintered wood.
"Miss Weasley!" scolded Professor McGonagall, rushing forwards. "Miss Weasley, what on — what in the name of — what were you—
"Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry," she quickly replied, hurrying towards the rest of her teammates. Glancing over her shoulder, she was almost certain that she saw the head of Gryffindor house fighting against a smile as she waved her wand and cleared the broken wood off of a sputtering Smith. Turning back to the team, Layla launched herself into the arms of an approaching Dean.
Only it wasn't Dean. It was Harry.
Laughing, Harry returned the hug.
"That was amazing," he murmured into her ear.
"Why, thank you," said Layla, grinning as they broke from the hug.
Harry grinned once more before turning to clap Ron on the back as the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.
The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant.
"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yelled Dean exuberantly. "C'mon, Lay, Ginny!"
"I'll meet you up there," said Layla. The team left until it was only Harry, Layla, and Ron in the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined.
"I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."
"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.
"At least we won," Layla shrugged.
"What are you three talking about?" asked Harry, though Layla noticed that he was trying to hide a grin.
"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"
"No, I didn't," said Harry.
"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"
"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."
He pocketed the potion again.
"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good — and Vaisey couldn't play — I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"
Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice.
"You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"
"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"
But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence, "shall — shall we go up to the party, then?"
"You two go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done."
And she stormed out of the changing room too.
"That went well," said Layla sarcastically to Harry, who simply shrugged.
The two then walked slowly back up the grounds toward the castle together, through the crowd, many of whom shouted congratulations at them.
Layla could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when she and Harry arrived.
"Fancy getting a drink?" Harry asked, glancing at Layla.
"Sure," said Layla, and as the two headed towards the drink's table, she looked around for any sign of Ron or Hermione. They were soon approached by Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asked the two, smirking. "He's over there."
Both Layla and Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.
"The little hypocrite," Layla couldn't help but chuckle.
"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, guys."
She patted Harry on the arm and hugged Layla before walking off. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.
Layla turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, she thought she saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight. Harry seemed to notice, too.
"Go after her," said Layla. "I know you want to. I'll stay and, I don't know, maybe try and babysit our greedy friend over there."
"Okay... I'll see you later," said Harry before darting after Hermione.