The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XLII

CHAPTER XLII:

Harry's POV:

It took nearly a week before Hermione was back to how she'd been before going under the Imperius, though it wasn't until the day of the foreign school's arrival– October 30th, to be exact– that her mood actually lifted to something resembling an actual enthusiasm for life.

Waking up after losing his virginity in his dorm-room, Harry had been so mortified that he hadn't wanted to face Blaise, Draco, Theo, Greg and Vince ever again– ever. It was only the fact that Hermione had started talking after nearly sixteen hours of silence that had made him decide it had been worth the unbelievable embarrassment he was still feeling – not to mention it actually had felt pretty bloody brilliant too – and he managed to force himself out from hiding in bed.

The boys didn't say anything until Hermione was in the shower– they weren't suicidal, after all– but Harry had then had to put up with all the knowing smirks and pointed comments. Greg and Vince, at least, seemed to have slept through it all. Small mercies, maybe, but he was taking them.

Either way, Harry had practically glued himself to Hermione's side in order to avoid anything worse, as well as finding himself spending more and more time with Neville.

The Gryffindor boy was quiet and gentle and one of the most genuinely kind people Harry had ever met, which he really did appreciate after spending all his time with his cutthroat, calculating housemates, no matter how much he liked the lot of them. Even Hermione struggled to turn off her cynicism, and the less said about the still-absent Tom the better.

Neville was easily as shy as Harry had been before Hermione got her claws into him– and he'd never be able to thank her enough for choosing him that day on the train– and Harry wanted to help the other boy improve his self-confidence and build up his sense of self-worth, but both of them were hiding their developing friendship from their Houses, Hermione's warning uncomfortably loud in his ears.

He could see what she meant now too– Neville was so starved for friendship and approval, and his gratitude towards Harry for every ounce of kindness that he showed him was so great that Harry knew it would only be too bloody easy to take advantage of the boy– he was shocked nobody had thought to until now, though he guessed it was because they didn't see any worth in Neville. He did, though, but all Neville's vulnerability did was make him want to protect the Gryffindor. If he did, though, then that would be making a move neither of them would be able to take back, and Harry honestly just didn't know if Neville would be able to survive the ruthlessness of Slytherin House.

The morning of the thirtieth of October, the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

"They're really going all out," Hermione commented. Harry thought of the extra-thorough cleaning the castle had been undergoing the last week– and the absolutely foul mood it had put Filch in– and nodded. The portraits had been scrubbed much to the displeasure of their subjects, the suits of armor were gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Filch had actually reduced a pair of first-year girls into hysterics when they forgot to wipe their feet.

The other staff had been no better then Filch– much to Harry's anger McGonagall had actually snapped at Neville at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, when Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus, demanding that he not reveal to anyone from Durmstrang that he couldn't even perform a simple switching spell.