Three is a Magic Number

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The next Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled to begin on Saturday, December 19th. Harry noted that this was the last weekend before the Yule Ball. Potions was easier now, because he kept very close to Casi, and she was something of a whiz in the subject. She could also keep him from thinking about certain things. “Honestly, Harry. Now what would happen if I added these quills to the potion right now?”
“Twenty points from Gryffindor.”
“Correct. Why, pray?”
“Ka-boom.” He said flatly and in a perfect monotone.
“And people think I’m dry. Are you worried about this weekend?” ~Why would I be worried about a little shopping trip to Hogsmeade?~ “Because, you’re not going to be yourself.” ~AND a million things could go wrong. What if I’m recognized?~ “You won’t be. Have a little faith in me.”
“Miss Montgomery, if you would be so kind as to tell us what is so enrapturing about your conversation that you didn’t hear me address you the past two times!”
“I was just discussing with my partner the viscosity of the potion and whether or not it would effect the mushroom cloud it would make in the event of a explosion.”
“Very well. Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek. The question stands: What is the difference between Passiflora and Weeping Hayweed?”
“The part of the country you live in, as they are the same plant, Latin flora pacificus, used only in sleeping potions for its drowsy effects on the human nervous system.”
“Close enough. I see at least you’ve been looking in your books.”
“I do try, sir.” ~I really appreciate that you don’t make a pet of your little second cousin.~ She thought at him. Oddly enough, an answer entered her mind.
~>Obviously, some things run thicker in the Snape blood. Your father was quite good with his cerebral powers. I hope that one day, you’ll be as good as he was.>~
~I never knew my father.~ At this, Snape withdrew and wondered how that could have been. He’d only died two years ago. ~No, you only heard about it two years ago. Mother never told you. He died when I was three. I had to forge the letter myself. Luckily, I’m good at that.~ The bell rang. They were free for the weekend and holidays! ~If you’ll excuse me. . . ~

She began to gather up her things. As she swept out the door, Severus decided that he would do something he’d never done before. He sent an image to her. His cousin was holding her in his arms, laughing, and charming her with the same ease he charmed everyone else he met. She stopped in the doorway and turned her face towards him. “Thank you.”

“What do you think?” Hermione was posing in a rather awful set of dress robes. Harry put on a grimace and shook his head. Ginny nodded assent to Harry’s sentiment. “Hm. I thought so.”She walked back into the changing room.
“Try the indigo, ‘Mione.” Harry said.
“I can’t believe I’m trusting you.” She said as she fastened the dress robes. There was a period of silence.
“They can’t be worse than the last ones.”
“That’s not it at all . . . they’re . . .” She opened the door and stepped out. “Perfect.” They were. A shimmery material as stunning as a butterfly wing. At first Harry had thought them indigo, but now saw that they were a deep blue with a layer of almost transparent violet over them. It was perfect, and brought out Hermione’s eyes to a beautiful advantage.
“Ron’s the luckiest bastard in the world,” Harry said. “to have a beautiful woman like you for a date. I mean it, Hermione.” She blushed and laughed nervously.
“They’re a bit expensive.”
“Relax. I am famous Harry Potter after all.” Ginny nudged him in the ribs and Harry remembered that he now looked like a girl. Well, he had a wig on, and some telling parts were magically produced, but other than that . . .
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Royalties, Herm. Royalties. Not to mention the nice percentage.” He’d given permission in his sixth year for a (count it, one) portrait to be painted of him and then copied and sold. It wasn’t a booming business, but it made more money than Harry had expected. He looked over at Casi. “Well, go try some on.”
“I’m not go” Th” There was a dead silence, but only for a few seconds. Three voices said the same thing.
“YOU’RE WHAT!?!”
“But its all you’ve been talking about!” Ginny squealed piteously.
“I’ve got to have someone to talk to!” Hermione said pointedly.
“Give us a moment, will you?” Harry said. He pulled Casi outside and down an alley a bit.

“Are you crazy? I can’t go without you! I’ll look like a bloody idiot. I’ll forget something, I know I will.” Casi pulled her way free of Harry’s arm.
“You won’t. You’ve done everything perfectly today. You’ll be fine. You don’t need me.” She patted his arm and looked at him encouragingly.
“Yes, I do. You’re the one who’s gotten me through this far.” He pulled the wig off, and his body reverted (somewhat) to look male.
“There are some things you have to face alone, Harry James Potter.” She locked eyes with him.
“Please.” He was near tears. She shook her head.
“Harry. I can’t be there with you. It will ruin the mystery of ‘who’s that girl?’ if someone saw you and I together.”
“You’re right. You always are.” At that moment, an owl swooped into the alley, dropped a package in Casi’s hands, and flew off. “What’s that?”
“Birthday present, probably.”
“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, now I HAVE to buy you something, rather than just hoping to.”
“You wanted to buy me something?” Harry nodded. Then, not knowing quite why, he kissed her. Sweetly and innocently, just as the bees kiss the first blooms of spring, his breath met hers and he lingered only a few short heartbeats.
“Happy birthday, Casi.” He replaced his wig and walked back into the shop, wondering why he’d just kissed her. He wasn’t the only one.
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