"You wanted to talk business?" George asks, shutting the door behind him and Fred as the two of them enter the room, and Harry and Hermione share a glance before they meet the twins' gaze.

"We're offering our services and our help to you, as members joining your little company." Harry says, arching his eyebrows. He's tired, and he's fairly certain it's showed in the courses of his classes today, but he's alert enough to make his proposal to the Weasley twins. The both of them are watching him and Hermione with obvious intrigue. "This is a chance to expand your operation a bit, as well as to make a little extra. Besides, there'll be a lot of benefits to having me and Hermione involved."

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Fred says with a flourish, obviously enjoying the name of his and George's business, "is a family-owned enterprise, Harry. Why ever should we involve you two?"

"Well, my personal business plans aside," Harry says, "with me you'll get a direct route to sales within Slytherin house. You two are bastards to most of the other snakes, but I'm one of them. That'll add an extra quarter to your customer base. And you'll be able to get access to Parseltongue-locked rooms to hide your goods or work in."

"Plus," Hermione says cleanly, "You'll have me and Harry on your side if you need to take anything more questionable or suspicious out of the library."

The four of them are in an empty classroom on the second floor, but Harry's fairly certain they won't be disturbed for the time being. He watches as Fred and George each look pensive, sharing looks and communicating everything with microexpressions, or so it seems.

And then George asks, "What personal business plans?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Harry says. From her satchel, Hermione produces the catalogue for Wizarding Delights. Fred and George stare at it, obviously surprised and impressed. "Given that owl orders to Wizarding Delights can only be made from a particular form issued by the store or found in one of their catalogues..."

"We can order goods and sell them on in the school with an uptick," Fred says, grinning a little. "Very simple, but effective. Why don't you just do this yourself? Why do you want to join me and George?"

"Working as a unit will benefit us," Harry says. "I can bring access in the school to the table, but I couldn't order stuff from here in my name - they'll know how old I am. I kinda need your help with this."

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is still going to be yours," Hermione says, and she draws out a piece of parchment, setting it down on the table. The contract isn't magically binding or somehow enchanted, but Hermione had spent a fair bit of time putting it together last night, and Harry likes the way she's crafted it. "Harry and I will just be like investors. We'll add to your capital and help you out - and we'll only take shares of the profit from the stuff we've brought to the table, like the catalogue." George laughs a little as he looks over the contract, taking it in.

"I like your terms," he says, nodding his head slowly. His expression is appraising as he looks at Hermione, and then he says, "Fred?"

"I think the two of you are sneaky, sorry little monsters," Fred says. "I'd be ecstatic to invite you to the team." He puts his hand out to shake, and Harry takes it, grinning. Within a half hour more, each of them has their own copy of the contract with all of their signatures written at its bottom, and Harry feels an immense satisfaction. Even with the worry of Voldemort on his mind, something's going right so far this year, and he and Hermione nudge each other as they walk out into the courtyard.

"Well, that's one thing down this year."

"Of course," Hermione says dryly. "Now you just have to become an expert in two extremely rare, difficult fields of magic."

"I don't want to become an expert," Harry mutters, shaking his head. "I just want to become an Animagus. And the Occlumency is just a- it's a hobby, an interest. I probably won't even be able to do any of it." Hermione laughs, shaking her head, and she puts her hands in the pockets of her robes as they walk to sit by the fountain. It's a little chilly outside, and the air is bracing, but it's not unbearable. "Aren't you picking up anything this year? You could put your name forwards for the Triwizard Tournament."

"I'm not seventeen," Hermione points out.

"There are ways around stuff like that. Bet you three Galleons you can't get your name in the cup."

"No," Hermione says, shaking her head. "No, it's not happening." She leans forwards as Cho Chang comes up the hillside. Two of the girls are also on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Harry thinks, and the others he doesn't know - in all truth, the only one he cares about is Cho. She's grown a little taller, but Harry's thankfully grown a little more too, and they're about the same height: the skirt of her robes is right up to her calves, and she has ribbons in little bows sewn into the hems of them. A matching blue ribbon shimmers in her hair, and he feels his breath catch slightly.

"Hey, Cho," Harry says, and she turns away from her friends. All of them peer at him with owlish expressions on their faces, and Harry feels his face go hot, but he forces the grin to stay on his face. "You look really pretty today," he manages to say. "I love your hair." The Ravenlaws all titter, sharing looks, but Cho just beams widely. She's even prettier when she smiles.

"Thanks, Harry," Cho says, a little awkwardly, and she starts to walk off with the other Ravenclaws again. Harry watches them, and he glances at Hermione when he feels her gaze on the back of his head.

"What?" he asks, and Hermione shakes her head.

"Nothing, nothing. You've just managed to be a bit smooth, that's all. It's surprising." Harry scoffs. And then Hermione says, "You do know she's dating Cedric Diggory, right?" Harry thinks of Cedric Diggory, the blond, princely Hufflepuff with bright blue eyes and a jaw that looks like it's been carved of diamond. He's the perfect companion for a girl that looks like she could be the next model on the over of Witch Weekly, and Harry feels like an utter idiot.

"You couldn't have told me that before I told her she was pretty?"

"I didn't know you were going to!" Hermione says, and Harry sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the stone lion behind him. "You can always ask her out if they break up," she offers insincerely.

"Are you going to ask anyone out this year?" Harry retorts. Hermione tosses her hair.

"I might do. It's none of your business, Harry Potter."

"Of course it is," he says. "I'm going to be the godfather of all your children." Hermione laughs outright, throwing back her head, and he does his best to look mock-offended, but he doesn't quite manage it: he's laughing too, and they settle together in comfortable silence for a while. "Really, though. Are you?"

"I don't know," she says. "Maybe."

"Let me guess... Vincent Crabbe?" Hermione shoves him, and Harry sniggers.

"I haven't got anyone particular in mind," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "Unlike you, I don't want to snog anything that moves." Harry sighs, looking back to the entrance hall's doors - he thinks of snogging Cho Chang in a corridor, feeling her silk-smooth hair through his fingers as he cups her face. Yeah, he doesn't think he can compete with Cedric for her - or, for that matter, compete with Cho for him.

---

"Ah, she's back," Blaise says as he enters Harry and Draco's room that evening. Harry peers out of the curtains of his bedframe to look at him, and he smiles. Blaise waves, and Lixie Pott gives a flirtatious curtsy from her place on Harry's wall, pinned above his bedside table. "How I've missed her." Harry grins, shifting over a bit on his bed so that Blaise can sit next to him - Draco is out in the common room, playing an increasingly heated game of chess against Daphne Greengrass, and he'd settled on his bed to read for a little while.

Blaise pushes the curtain absently closed behind him: a little light filters into the square of comfortable silence, but most of the light is from a candle. Harry had finally figured out the right command to make the snake-shaped candleholder the Malfoys' had sent him in his first year shift its position, and it coils around one of the bed's posts, holding the candle aloft and lighting up his bed.

"This is cosy," Blaise says, sprawling beside him. Harry is already wearing his pyjamas, despite it not even being nine yet: he sits on top of his covers with a few books spread around him, and from a few different texts he's making notes on the initial practices of Occlumency. Blaise, although he's barefoot, is still wearing his robes, and Harry doubts he'll get ready for bed for hours yet.

"It is, isn't it?" Harry agrees, dropping his quill aside and leaning back against his pillows. "It's quite nice in here, without Draco snoring next to me." Blaise chuckles, showing off his teeth. He and his mother had spent the summer in Florence, so he'd said, and he's let his hair grow slightly - usually shaved right to his head, it's almost three inches long now, and the look suits him. Harry has no doubt he'll cut it all off soon: Blaise constantly despairs the other Slytherin boys' heavy use of shampoo.

"I heard you tried flirting with Cho Chang," Blaise purrs, and Harry groans, rubbing at his face. "A girl happily in a relationship, and you sow the seeds of discord."

"D'you think I should apologize?" Harry asks. "I didn't realize her and Diggory were together. I didn't actually ask her out, after all - I just told her she looked good, which was true." Harry pushes his books aside, mimicking Blaise's position and lying on his side across from the other boy. There's only a little space between them, but it doesn't matter: Blaise is freer with physical affection and close proximity than the other Slytherins, and Harry doesn't have to worry about propriety with him.

"I think she'll survive," Blaise says, and Harry glances at him. He examines Blaise's face, his deep brown eyes, the cupid's bow of his mouth, the broadness of his nose. "You have your sights set on anyone else?" It's asked with a sort of intensity, and Harry meets Blaise's gaze properly. Blaise's lips are parted, and he's close enough that Harry can smell the sweetness of his cologne.

"Nah," Harry says. His mouth suddenly feels a little dry. He doesn't think about Cho Chang in the corridor, now - he thinks of Blaize Zabini, feeling the short, thick fuzz of his hair under Harry's hand. "Nah, not really."

"Good," Blaise murmurs, leaning a little closer. "You'll be free to study with me, then. If I need it."

"Oh, yeah," Harry replies, utterly frozen in his place: he's unable to move as Blaise slips closer, and all he can do is close his eyes as Blaise's mouth presses against his. Blaise's lips are warm and slightly wet, and Harry leans into the kiss, feeling the quiet smack of their mouths against each other, the lingering taste of liquorice on Blaise's tongue, the scent of Blaise's cologne now even stronger: it feels amazing, and Harry suddenly feels too-hot with clammy hands and knees he had to press as tightly together as possible.

His heart is racing as Blaise comes a little closer, and he lets out a short, gasping noise when their tongues brush against each other, pulling him in by the front of his robes-

He hears the other bed creak as Draco throws himself onto it, and he hears the double thwack of Draco's boots hitting the floor. Blaise goes utterly still, and so does Harry, his hands still fisted in the other boy's robe.

"You awake, Harry?" Draco asks. Harry lets go of Blaise, grabbing at a book, and theyboth sit up, brushing themselves off slightly before Blaise pushes open the curtain. "Oh, hallo, Blaise."

"I'm just showing him some of the passages in one of my Occlumency books," Harry says, hyperaware of the slight huskiness to his voice that he can't quite push away, the blush on his cheeks, the new plumpness to his lips, but Draco is utterly oblivious.

"Oh," Draco says disinterestedly, and he goes in search of his pyjamas. Harry and Blaise share a glance, and Harry doesn't know how to communicate everything he feels - that he wants Blaise to kiss him again, that he's terrified Blaise will kiss him again, that he wants to know what cologne he uses...

He doesn't say anything, because Draco will hear. He just says, "Uh, good night, mate."

"Night, Harry, Draco," Blaise says smoothly, and he leaves the room in a sweep of casual movement. Harry pushes the curtain closed, lying down on his side again, and he reaches up to his mouth, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers. It hadn't been anything like kissing Hermione - it had felt like something more than just touching mouths. It had felt like everything.

Swallowing, he lies back, and forces his overexcited mind to recall the wand movement for the Dead Arm Charm.