The Sleeping Beauty Curse

Chapter 2

"We know you're there, Harry. Come out before you embarrass yourself."

"Before he embarrasses himself?" Ron's voice said, leading Harry to suspect that Ron's body was attached to it.

He didn't want to come out though. Hermione was crossing her arms, no doubt. Maybe if he just lay there very still, and didn't make a noise, he'd—

"Atchoo!"

"If you cast a quick Scourgify in your bedroom occasionally, then there wouldn't be any dust to make you sneeze," Hermione said. It was almost her best sanctimonious voice, just a little strained, as if she wanted to laugh, despite herself.

"It's not necessarily me sneezing," Harry said, addressing the bedsprings above his head.

"Great use of logic, mate," Ron said. "Very convincing."

Harry decided that for the sake of . . . well, not dignity, because that was long gone, but for the sake of his aching back, he'd better come out from under the bed. As far as cunning plans went, he supposed this one could use a little work.

Ron was grinning, but Hermione was – as suspected – crossing her arms, and matching that with a cross expression.

"You're so bad at hiding, Harry," she said with a sniff. "I don't know how you managed to pass your Concealment exam."

This struck Harry as unfair. "I wasn't hiding," he protested. "I was running away! You tossers," he added, after some reflection.

Hermione didn't look convinced, and he ran his hand through his hair in frustration, dislodging a clump of dust.

"Why were you—" Hermione said, still vibrating with visible disapproval.

"He FUCKING WOKE UP!"

There was a ringing silence. For a bit.

"There's no need to shout," Hermione said, in a pained tone.

They considered this. For a bit.

"Well, I reckon he has a point," Ron said, and sat down heavily on Harry's bed, pushing aside the open suitcase and the scattered pile of pants and books Harry had been in the process of panic-packing. "If I were him, I'd be hiding under the bed too. Can't say I'd be too keen to face a world that thinks I'm gagging to take Malfoy up the arse," he added, under his breath, and dodged as Harry moved to land an avenging smack on his arm.

"Why are you sitting down, Ron!" Hermione was shifting from foot to foot and clearly only half-listening. "We need to go back right now."

"Be my guest," Harry said, sitting down next to Ron. "Sod work! I'm going on a very long holiday – for, oh, the rest of forever, or until you sort this out for me, Hermione." He looked over at her. "You are going to sort this out for me, aren't you?" he asked pointedly. She was wringing her hands now, which was never a good sign. "It was you who made me do it," he added, a little untruthfully, in case it helped.

It didn't.

"True love's kiss," Ron said, and cackled. "Good luck with that one, mate."

Harry whipped around to glare at him. "How do we know it was my kiss that woke him up, eh? It could have been a . . . a . . . a . . . delayed reaction! You kissed him right before me, remember. I'm sure the Prophet would be keen to hear all about it."

Ron gawped. "Mate! You wouldn't!"

"I would," Harry said, with emphasis.

"If you two have quite finished," Hermione snapped. "Are you going to come back with me, or am I going to have to make you?"