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Chapter Thirteen:

Giving the philosopher's stone to Voldemort seems... oddly easy. In fact, Harry could literally just slip a note to Quirrelmort about it and be on his way. He doesn't even have to go on some obscure adventure to get the stone. Well, he probably should, considering he's under Dumbledore's watch. But then again, Harry doesn't really give a fuck about the old goat.

That's exactly why one cloudy and cold morning, Harry writes his impromptu letter out during DADA. Quirrell is at the front of the class, stumbling across his words and pointing out something on the chalkboard behind him. Ron is swinging his legs underneath the desk beside Harry, humming quietly as he takes notes. Verde and Nimmy are both lounging across the desk, arguing about who's scales are smoother and prettier. Nimmy seems to be winning. 

Smiling, Harry dips his quill into his ink pot and begins to write. 'Dear, Voldemort.' Pausing, Harry tilts his head to the side in thought and then crosses out the two words. 'Dear, Tom,' he writes instead, 'the philosophers stone is on third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, under a trap door. It's unfortunately guarded by a three headed dog. His name is fluffy and if you ignore the sharp fangs he's sort of cute. Kind of like you.' Here, Harry taps the top end of his quill against his bottom lip. He shifts in his seat and leans closer to his desk, hunching across his parchment so it looks like he's taking notes. Behind him, Draco murmurs something to Parkinson that makes her snort. Hovering his quill above his parchment, Harry continues to write. 'When you come to the end of the obstacles, you'll get to an empty room with a mirror. It will only give the stone to someone who wants to find it but not to use it.' He underlines the word 'find' several times, just in case old Voldy might not quite understand. He signs it with a simple, 'with love, HP.'

Harry spends the rest of the lesson drawing little hearts all over the letter, imagining the disgusted face of Quirrelmort as he reads over it. It makes him giddy.

At the end of the class, Harry makes his way towards the owlery. He could have easily just left the letter on Quirell's desk without anyone knowing, innocent in its blank envelope. Except, Harry has the gnawing feeling that Hedwig is going to be very upset with him if he doesn't finally give her a letter to fly with. With a sigh, Harry ties the letter around Hedwig's leg. She hoots at him excitedly, her eyes shining. Harry can't help but smile. "Alright, girl. Don't let anyone except V see you." Hedwig gives him a confirming hoot and then flies off, gracefully tilting out of one of the many windows.

Apparently Voldemort decides to wait for his hunt for the Philosopher's stone. He stays at Hogwarts, keeps teaching Defense and every now and then he'll look towards Harry and his eyes will flash red. It always leaves a thrum of anticipation running through Harry, his scar humming and his stomach fluttering with butterflies. It's confusing, because he's used to his scar burning and bleeding and hurting in agony whenever Voldy so much as looks at him. He's not used to this... weird but pleasant hum. Like he's happy at the attention Voldemort is giving him. During one of the demonstrations, Voldemort keeps his gaze on him, his voice evens out, lowering into a tone Harry knows all too well and his eyes flash red. It makes Harry swallow dryly, his hair suddenly turning pink. It's not the usual bubblegum pink that makes you want to claw your eyes out either. This pink is softer, much lighter, more...something Harry refuses to name. Instead of questioning it, he pays it no mind and goes on with his day. By the end of the week, his hair is back to its normal dark colour.

Halloween arrives rather quickly. Pumpkins are carved with wide smiles, Muggleborns are in their element, there are hoards of sweets and candles are charmed to float above their heads. The Weasley twins explode a glitter bomb in one of the corridors just a day before the feast and the Professors try their hardest to keep everything in one piece. Harry sees McGonagall stalking around the great hall the next day with a serious face, her robes keep changing into bright colours and by the loud laughter from the Gryffindor table, he knows it's another one of the Weasley twins pranks. Dumbledore gives one of his short speeches, stifling a laugh as McGonagall takes her usual seat and then the Halloween feast is started.

"Harry," Ron whispers, voice hesitant. He tugs on the side of Harry's robes, anxiously biting his bottom lip. He's sat beside him at the Slytherin table, his yellow robes sticking out in a sea of green and silver.

"Hmm?" Harry hums, eyeing the pumpkin pie with an unimpressed frown. His usual dose of treacle tart isn't anywhere in sight. It's actually quite upsetting. Just because it's Halloween doesn't mean that they can switch out all the treacle tart for pumpkin pie. He turns to face Ron with a disappointed sigh.

"Why am I sat here?" Ron mumbles out the words, his cheeks lightly dusting pink in embarrassment. "I should be with the other Hufflepuffs."

Feeling the corners of his lips tug into a smirk, Harry moves his line of sight down the Slytherin table. Draco is sat beside Nott and Zabini, his chin is placed in the palm of his hand and he's gazing at Ron longingly. There had been another lovers quarrel not long ago. Ron had overheard Draco say something rude about his new friends, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. So, for the past few days Ron has been keeping his distance from Draco.

"Because I want you here," Harry shrugs. He pulls a tray of shortbread biscuits closer to them, figuring they'll have to take over his treacle tart obsession for the day. He motions for Ron to take one and he does, biting into the soft biscuit and warily eyeing the other students sat around them.

On Harry's left, Davis is reading a thick tome, clearly disinterested in her surroundings. Sat beside her, Greengrass is openly glaring at Ron, ignoring whatever her friend is trying to tell her. Crab and Goyle are stuffing their faces with suspiciously orange coloured muffins a few seats lower. On Harry's right, just a seat away from Ron, Parkinson is blowing a bubble of gum. It pops loudly, sticking to her lips. She licks it off, twirling a lock of her short, black hair between her pale fingers as she waits for something exciting to happen.

When Harry turns his gaze back to Ron, there are crumbs at the side of his lips. A candle floats just above him, the orange flame sending a warm glow across Ron's features and brightening his hair momentarily. Harry is wiping away the crumbs before he even knows it. Ron's lips are very soft under the pad of his thumb. Harry watches as Ron's brown eyes widen, he blushes right up to the tips of his ears. It's cute.

"There," Harry says, pulling away.

"Thanks," Ron mutters weakly, ducking his head to hide his red face.

It startles a laugh out of Parkinson who bangs her first against the table. Her goblet tips to the side, spilling its contents. She doesn't seem to care, it only spurs on her laughter.

Raising a brow, Harry chances a glance towards Draco. The blonde looks like a kicked puppy. Zabini pats his back reassuringly and Nott rolls his eyes, mouthing the words, 'save me.'

Harry snorts, hiding his laugh into the palm of his hand. And when Ron looks at him with confusion, he promises to tell him later.

It's not until Harry is nestled under his covers, Nimmy asleep on the pillow beside his own, that he realises that he's forgotten about the anniversary of his parents death. For a few moments, he feels sort of... dislodged from the world, and then he's throwing off his covers and going through his trunk.

While Nott is fast asleep, Draco is still up, writing an essay for charms that he had forgotten about. Zabini is checking on his Herbology project, watering it and making sure the soil is wet enough. They both turn to look at him, but Harry ignores them in favour of pulling out a red coloured candle. It smells like apples, nice and sweet. There's a rune carved professionally into it — it stands for life after death. He places it onto his bedside table and lights it up with a murmured spell. For a few seconds, Harry just watches the candle burn, sat on his knees in front of it. Whatever memories Harry has of his parents, they're bittersweet at best. He can't think of anything good to tell them.

"Master?" Nimmy voices tiredly, coming closer to the edge of the bed. She makes a sound equivalent to a human's yawn.

Harry smiles. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Nimmy nods her head. Her tongue slithers out to taste the air. "Are you alright?"

Instead of answering her, Harry flutters his green eyes closed and holds his hands together in front of his face. He whispers a quiet, "I'll promise to do better this time," and then blows out the candle. Gentle smoke rises from the stem, Harry inhales the scent of apples. It's sort homey. His scar hums, as if in agreement. When he gets back under the covers, Nimmy cuddles up to him as best as she can.

Harry is very glad when morning comes and neither Draco nor Zabini mention the events of last night. He sits down for breakfast, breathing out a relieved sigh as he finds his usual serving of treacle tart. He digs straight into it, moaning when his taste buds tingle. He's missed it, the taste of treacle tart. It's official. Harry doesn't think he can live without it. Parkinson seems to agree, because she slides her own own portion of treacle tart towards him. "Thanks, Pansy," Harry grins, green eyes shining.

"No problem, Po— Harry." Pansy gives a small smile.

Greengrass sits down, a furrow between her blonde brows. "Has anyone seen Malfoy?" She asks, looking up and down the table.

"At the Hufflepuff table," Davis answers from behind her book. She reaches for her buttered toast blindly and then brings it around her book and towards her mouth, eyes never leaving the text.

Harry blinks and then slowly turns in his seat to take a look. Davis is right. Draco's silver and green robes stand out in the sea of Hufflepuffs. He's laughing at something that Ron says, crinkles appearing besides the corners of his grey eyes. Ron beams and says something else that catches Draco off guard. Must have been a compliment or something along the lines of that because he blushes and starts stammering. They look happy.

Greengrass on the other hand, doesn't.

Pansy shuffles closer to Harry, leaning in to whisper, "she looks more sour than a lemon."