Chapter 8

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"Harry! Wake up!" 

Harry's eyes bolted open. In one fluid motion his hand shot out from the bed and Percy found a wand pointed dangerously close to his face. Percy rose his hands to his shoulders and took a step back, eying the wand warily.

"It's just me!" he said hastily.

"Sorry, Percy," he mumbled. Harry dropped his wand onto the bedside table and made his way out of the tangle of blankets, running one hand over his face.

"Mum said to wake you up," he explained. 

Harry nodded and pulled out clothes to change into, but Percy didn't seem to want to leave the room. He stood at the doorway, wringing his hands together, and looking between Harry and his feet. Harry eventually stood and faced him, hands dangling limply at his sides, with a curious look.

"Harry, I... I just wanted to say..." Percy looked down at his anxiously wringing hands, sneaking quick glances up at him from beneath his glasses. "I'm sorry about that stupid letter from a few years ago and I'm sorry for not believing you. I don't know if Ron actually showed you the letter, or--"

"He opened it in front of me, actually," he said, still gazing at him curiously.

"Right... well, I'm really sorry. If I could take it all back, I would in an instant." His eyes pleaded for forgiveness and his lower lip was surely about to bleed from him biting on it so constantly. Harry strode forward and held out his hand. Hesitantly, Percy shook it with the fear slipping away.

"Don't worry about it, Percy." He dropped his hand, but still looked at Percy strangely.

"Yeah..." Percy asked, balking under Harry's gaze and still not leaving the bedroom. "What is it?"

Harry shrugged and a small smile danced upon his lips. "Thanks for apologizing. No one really does that anymore."

"Oh, yeah, well... I'll see you downstairs." Percy quickly left the room, his brows furrowed in bewilderment, and shut the door behind him, leaving Harry to change into his black robes. He stepped out of the room and was instantly berated with the echo of shouts that could be from none other than Mrs. Weasley.

"Ronald Billius Weasley! How dare you! I already told you that you were to sleep in your own room and now I come to wake the girls up and you're here!" she screeched at the top of her lungs.

"Mum, I--"

"You can not sleep with Hermione! It is wrong and immoral and--"

"Old fashioned!" Ron interrupted. 

Harry peeked through the doorframe to see Ron towering over his mother's angry figure with Hermione hiding in the corner, clearly wishing to blend in with the wall. 

"We're not doing anything wrong! She has nightmares and needs me! She has to put a silencing charm around her bed so that Ginny won't hear her screaming, and you're more worried about us sleeping in the same bed!?" His voice grew louder and Harry watched Ginny  place a comforting hand on Hermione, her own expression fairly neutral.

"Well if she has nightmares, then she can go find you in your. Own. Room!" she shouted, punctuating the last few words.

"Fine, then she'll sleep in my bed!" 

The two fumed at each other and the tension was so thick that it was hard to see through. Ron forced himself to calm down, looked straight at his mother's boiling red face, and said in a controlled voice, "We are sleeping in the same bed because it helps us both sleep and we care about each other. That's that." He reached over and grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her from the room. Hermione hung her head to avoid eye contact with Mrs. Weasley. Ginny followed them and raised her eyebrows impressively at Harry as they made their way downstairs.

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