They walked to the common room, past a group of Slytherins, one of who waved their wand so an invisible barrier blocked Sherlock’s foot, causing him to trip. Thankfully John was there to catch him, making sure that his head didn’t bounce off of the stone steps. The Slytherins burst into laughter, but moved on, not staying around to torture him more.
“You okay?” John asked, helping him to his feet.
“Fine, I’m fine.” Sherlock assured. John scowled back at the pack of Slytherins, some of who were still looking back and laughing. John raised his wand, not really prepared to attack them, just to intimidate them enough to send the message not to mess with Sherlock again. But as he raised his wand, Sherlock pulled his arm back down, preventing him.
“They’re not worth it, really.” Sherlock insisted. John groaned, not putting his wand away but giving them a glare that would melt ice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” John asked again.
“I’m find, no injuries, everything’s okay.” Sherlock insisted.
“They’re jerks, don’t pay them any attention.” John said.
“I’m not the one paying them attention, it seems like you care more about this than I do.” Sherlock pointed out.
“But you don’t deserve this!” John pointed out. Sherlock smiled at him, a smile that showed that it didn’t bother him. That one curl was still hanging over his forehead, which was very distracting.
“I’ve got only two more years here, I can deal with it.” Sherlock assured. John frowned at him, but before he could say anything Sherlock continued the hike up to the common room.
“Well I think the thing that really gets to me is that I was one of those people too, making fun of you, I was really mean and I apologize.” John said, trying his best to catch up to Sherlock.
“You are forgiven, always have been.” Sherlock assured. John caught him, slowing his pace a little bit. They reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, who was singing again, which would explain the sound of a dying cow echoing through the halls.
“Pig snout!” John called through the agonizing noise. The Fat Lady didn’t seem to hear him, she kept wailing into an empty wine glass, trying to break it just with her voice apparently.
“PIG SNOUT!” John yelled, so now everyone within earshot would be able to break into the Gryffindor common rooms. The Fat Lady stopped her singing to look down on them with annoyance.
“Two Ravenclaws now?” she asked.
“What do you mean two?” John asked.
“See for yourself.” She said, swinging open. John already had his guess at who it was, and to his sarcastic surprise, Mycroft occupied the armchair in front of the fire, talking with Greg, their arms reaching over the arms of the chairs so that they were holding hands inconspicuously. They looked like little love birds, Greg was obviously cherishing every word that came out of Mycroft’s mouth, and Mycroft was staring dreamily into Greg’s eyes. John didn’t know whether to be happy or to go throw up.
“Mycroft what are you doing here!” Sherlock asked, a scowl on his face that resembled Snape’s. Immediately their hands broke apart, looking back up at John and Sherlock like they were surprised to see them.
“I could ask you the same.” Mycroft pointed out.
“I think you’re both here because you were invited, no conflict please.” Greg pointed out. Sherlock and Mycroft had what John would categorize as a glaring war, seeing whoever would look away first.
“So, how did your little spell work?” Mycroft asked.
“I never told you about the spell.” Sherlock pointed out suspiciously. Mycroft cast a sideways look at Greg, who smiled guiltily.
“Thanks Greg, now Mycroft will be all into my social life.” Sherlock scowled.
“But really, how did it work?” Greg asked.
“Perfectly.” John said, holding up his now slightly scarred hand with a smile.
“Did you two have fun on your date?” Sherlock asked.
“It wasn’t a date Sherlock, there is a difference, not that you’d know.” Mycroft said. Ohh, shots fired.
“I have a great idea, how about you leave, and then we can all enjoy ourselves.” Sherlock said with a sarcastic little light bulb. Mycroft looked at him like he was stupid, which was also an insult to John and all of the other ones a lot dumber than Sherlock, which was about everyone.
“John, let’s go sit over here.” Sherlock decided, looking at an empty table in the back corner.
“That looks pretty social Sherlock, I don’t know if we’re cool enough to sit there.” John said with sarcasm. Sherlock looked at him with confusion, but John just nodded his approval and followed him to the table in the corner. Sherlock sat down in a chair, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table, making himself right at home.
“Are you wearing dance shoes?” John asked, observing Sherlock’s off choice of footwear as he sat in the chair opposite.
“Oh, ya, those.” Sherlock said, turning a little bit red. He took his feet off of the table immediately.
“Why do you wear dance shoes, you never know when you’re going to have to break out some sick moves?” John asked with a smile.
“They’re comfortable.” Sherlock defended, blushing more and more.
“So you don’t dance?”
“I do, actually, on my own time, and I play the violin too.” Sherlock added.
“Are you serious? Are you any good?” John asked. He loved the violin, it was such a pretty instrument, the sounds and the violin itself was very soft and elegant.
“I don’t want to brag, but I’d say I’m pretty good.” Sherlock said. John smiled at him; he was beginning to like this Ravenclaw more and more.
“You’ve got to demonstrate someday.” John insisted.
“I can assure you I’m not going to be playing and dancing in the Ravenclaw common room.” Sherlock laughed.
“Then where do you play when you’re here?” John asked.
“I go outside by the lake or something, when everyone else is playing quidditch or something rubbish like that.” Sherlock shrugged. John looked at him, as if challenging him to say quidditch was rubbish one more time. “I mean, you’re not rubbish, I’m sure you’re brilliant, it’s just the game isn’t really in my interests.” Sherlock corrected quickly.
“Well, if we have some sort of dance, you can show off your dancing skills.” John joked. Sherlock laughed, but it wasn’t happy, it was more sad, like he’d love for that to happen but it never would.
“No one would want to dance with me, I assure you.” Sherlock said sadly.
“Oh come on, plenty of girls would, you just need to have the guts to ask one out!” John exclaimed, making it sound like it was the easiest thing in the world, when in reality he didn’t have the guts to even look at Mary.
“Well, judging that you’re still single I’m guessing that it’s not as easy as you make it sound.”
“Who said I was single?” John objected.
“Seeing as you don’t have a girl constantly at your side would prove that.” Sherlock decided.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” John asked, thinking he already knew that answer.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have a crush on anyone?”
“John, I look at relationships as a big disadvantage, sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. Caring for anyone just puts them in danger and gives you a disadvantage.”
“We are in sixth year, what could possibly be dangerous?” John asked with a frown.
“I don’t know, Umbridge, villains, bullies.” Sherlock said, thinking of more.
“I don’t think we are in any danger in Hogwarts, Dumbledore is the most powerful sorcerer in the whole world, and he’ll protect us.” John assured.
“Say someone wanted to get to you, so they took Greg. Would you trust Dumbledore to go save him if they have him hostage, or would you want to do it yourself, to make sure Greg was unharmed?” Sherlock asked.
“Of course I’d send Dumbledore, he’d never let Greg get hurt.” John pointed out.
“You say that now.” Sherlock pointed out.
“So you’re saying that the reason you don’t have a girlfriend is because you don’t want a weakness.” John cleared up.
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“But wonder if they were the perfect person for you, you were soul mates?”
“Then I’d just put them in more danger.” Sherlock pointed out. John frowned, that was actually really sad. He slightly doubted Sherlock’s claim, just a cover up for being too scared to approach his crush.
“It’s getting late; I should probably get Mycroft and get out of here.” Sherlock decided, getting up.
“I guess so, you don’t want more scars.” John agreed. He got up along with Sherlock, and the two walked back over to were Greg and Mycroft were. They were still talking, but now that Sherlock was here, Mycroft didn’t seem brave enough to hold Greg’s hand, as if any signs of affection would make his little brother throw him in exile.
“Mycroft let’s go.” Sherlock demanded.
“You’re not the boss of me.” Mycroft pointed out.
“Well then I’ll just laugh at the cuts on the back of your hand.” Sherlock decided. “Goodbye John, Greg.” He said, and with that he climbed out of the portrait hole as if he had done it his whole life. Mycroft groaned, got up, said a quick goodbye to Greg, not recognizing that John was also standing there, and followed Sherlock, running to catch up. John took his chair, which he found had been moved closer to Greg’s.
“How was it?” John asked.
“Fine, we just talked, but I’m not really complaining.” Greg shrugged.
“You two are really cute, you should know that. Like little love birds.” John said with a laugh.
“Shut up.” Greg demanded. “How about Sherlock, I assume it is a lot more complicated.”
“What do you mean complicated?”
“Well I’m willing to guess that he can’t hold a conversation.”
“He’s fine.” John assured. Greg raised an eyebrow at John, as if asking him something, but John had no idea what.
“What were you two doing?” Greg asked.
“Well, he fixed my cuts, which I guess was a spell from the restricted section, so we had to do it in private, and then it started to rain so we came up here.” John left out the part about the Slytherins.
“Do you like him?” Greg asked.
“Ya, I do.” John decided.
“Then ask him out!” Greg said with a smile.
“Not like that! No, no, as a person, a friend.” John objected very quickly. He had no interest in Sherlock, none at all.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Greg laughed.
“It’s fine.” John assured.
“I’m beat, I think I’m going to bed, what time is it?” Greg asked.
“Nine already, but tomorrow is the weekend remember?” John asked.
“It’s Friday?”
“Ya, has been all day can you believe it!” John exclaimed with a lot of sarcasm.
“Good, I can sleep in, good night.” Greg decided. John didn’t have anything else to do really, so he followed Greg up the steps and went to bed too, not realizing how tired he was until he got into the soft, warm bed.

                The next morning, John woke up at his regular time, but, as promised, Greg was still fast asleep. He really must have been tired. John got up and changed into a pair of robes, tucking his wand in his pocket and leaving his school bag behind. It felt good to not be dragged through classes all day. He walked down alone to the Great Hall, figuring he’d get a head start on the day, get his homework done early so he didn’t have to worry about it all weekend. When he got in the Great Hall, there weren’t many people there, just a couple of morning people and a group of third year Hufflepuffs, who all seemed excited about something. John was shocked to see Sherlock at the Ravenclaw table, not eating anything but just sitting there, staring off into space. He certainly was a very odd person, especially not letting himself get attached to anyone. John walked over to his table, but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice still.
“Hey Sherlock.” John said. No response.
“Sherlock!” John called, louder this time. He came to life with a jump, shaking the whole table and knocking over his empty goblet.
“What!” he demanded, turning around to see who had interrupted him with a rock solid glare that made John step back. When Sherlock recognized him though, he calmed down, his expression turning soft.
“Sorry, you scared me.” Sherlock apologized.
“You’re fine, don’t worry.” John assured. Sherlock didn’t answer, just went back to staring at nothing, leaving John wondering if he should say anything to start a conversation or just walk away.
“What made you wake up so early on a Saturday morning?” Sherlock asked suddenly just as John was turning away.
“Oh, well I decided to get a head start on homework so I didn’t have to worry about it later.” John explained quickly.
“I’m finished with my homework, did it in class.” Sherlock said simply.
“You had enough time?” John asked with amazement.
“Well the class work was simple enough so it was only too easy to get the homework done, plus I got a little bit of extra reading time.” Sherlock said happily, pulling out a worn copy of “Jinxes to make your enemies beg for mercy”.
“Looks like a good book.” John commented.
“The dull librarian can’t seem to figure how it went missing from the Restricted Section, I don’t know why Dumbledore bothers to hire any of them anyway, they don’t do anything.” Sherlock said in a bored tone.
“Well I think they’re very helpful, even if you don’t, we’re not all geniuses.” John pointed out. Sherlock twisted his head back to look at John with wonder. He looked confused yet flattered an odd mix.
“What?” John asked.
“No one’s ever called me a genius before.” Sherlock commented.
“That’s not true, it’s plain to see, what do they call you?”
“A psychopath, obviously.” Sherlock said. John frowned at his answer, sure he could see how some people would think that fit his description, but Sherlock was brilliant, the smartest person John had ever met by far.
“That’s not fair.” John decided. He sat down in the bench beside Sherlock and started to fill a plate with waffles from a plate in front of him. Sherlock watched him with confusion.
“Shouldn’t you be at the Gryffindor table?” he asked as John poured syrup on the waffles.
“No one is there, you’re here, and the seats around you are conveniently empty, so I don’t see why I should be over there.”  John decided. Sherlock still looked worried, as if they’d both get in trouble for John’s actions, but he didn’t say anything. The staff table had two people occupying it, and both of them had their concentration fixed on their breakfast.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” John asked in between bites.
“I don’t eat much.” Sherlock said simply.
“That can’t be very healthy.” John commented.
“I can survive.”
“If this is some kind of weight loss extreme diet, you shouldn’t be on it, trust me when I tell you that you are not fat.” John said, half joking but if Sherlock actually responded like it was true then his words would be true too.
“I’m not on a diet, I just don’t like food, digestion slows my thought process down.” Sherlock said simply.
“You have got to be kidding me.” John sighed, looking at him as if he was crazy, which right now sounded like it. “You don’t need to be super thinking ever minute of the day, digestion is kind of necessary to live you know.”
“And until I need it I actively avoid it.” Sherlock replied. John laughed, trying to tell if he was being serious or not.
“Come on, have some food.” John insisted.
“No.” Sherlock said, a note of finality in his voice. John sighed, deciding it was too early in the morning for this kind of annoyance. He was debating his decision of sitting by him for a moment, but then he heard laughter behind them, coming from the Slytherin table. When John and Sherlock both turned their heads to look at them they started making hearts out of their hands and kissy faces. John scowled and Sherlock glowed red, looking back before they could do anything else. John flipped them off before turning back, hoping there were some muggleborn in there that understood the gesture.
“Don’t listen to them.” Sherlock said in his deep baritone voice, which somehow had a hint of something John hadn’t heard before, care. It sounded like he actually cared about what John felt, which was something he thought he’d never see.
“I’m not, don’t worry.” John assured. He focused on his waffles, but stole a quick glance at Sherlock, who still had a deep blush in his pale cheeks. When his plate was clear, other than a puddle of unused syrup, John and Sherlock got up and left for the Entrance Hall.
“I’ve got to do homework waiting up at the common room, so I guess I’ll see you later.” John shrugged.
“Ya, see you.” Sherlock agreed. John continued up the stairs without a look back, but Sherlock wandered outside, headed down the sloping lawns to go somewhere or the other. John hoped he wasn’t going back to that destroyed section of the Forbidden Forrest, who knows what could be down there waiting for him? The question then popped back into his mind, one that had been bothering him for some time, why was Sherlock down there in the first place? Those woods were full of dangerous creatures, like centaurs, spiders, and werewolves. And how did that section even get destroyed in the first place? It wasn’t magic, no one, not even Sherlock had powers like that, unless he was hiding them.
“Pig snout.” John told the Fat Lady, who opened the portrait hole for him to climb through. He saw Greg was just coming down the steps, in his robes but yawning as if he had just woken up.
“Where have you been?” Greg demanded.
“Breakfast, unlike some of us who haven’t even woken up yet.” John pointed out. Even though he couldn’t see from this distance, he knew Greg rolled his eyes.
“I was tired, obviously you weren’t.” Greg said.
“Well, I’m getting my homework done now so we can have the whole rest of the weekend to play quidditch or whatever.” John said with a smile.
“Sounds good to me.” Greg agreed. He walked past John and climbed through the portrait hole. John sat down at a table and began writing an essay on the Goblin Rebellions of whatever year ago it was for Professor Binns. When that horror was done he wrote one for Snape about how to properly brew an enlarging potion, which they already brewed and the essay was just to give them something to do over the weekend, because fun wasn’t an option for Snape.  After he put his quill down he shook his hand out, it was sore from writing so much. Thankfully though, he was done, and Greg hadn’t even returned from breakfast yet. He read Quidditch Through the Ages in front of the fire until Greg finally did show up, but Mycroft was with him, and they were laughing like they were old friends.
“Hey John, me and Mycroft are going to take a walk, but I’ll see you for lunch.” Greg told him, running up to the dorms to put his sneakers on.
“So, any plans for the day John?” Mycroft asked him. It was quiet in the common room, not many people, and those who were up were doing homework or reading.
“Not really no.” John shrugged.
“Ah well, plans always get made anyway. Have you seen my brother around by any chance?” Mycroft asked. Somehow John knew this was his main concern, not about John’s plans for the day.
“I saw him at breakfast, then he went outside, haven’t seen him since.” John shrugged, wondering if Mycroft knew about the little wreck of Forrest. If not, he wouldn’t bring it up.
“Well, I’m happy to see that my brother has a friend now, he needed one.” Mycroft said with a sigh, sounding as if he worried about his little brother constantly. John didn’t know what to say, he didn’t really consider he and Sherlock friends, just able to stand each other a little better now. But he smiled and nodded anyway, and that seemed to satisfy Mycroft. Greg came bouncing back down the steps, to John’s great relief.
“I’ll see you later John!” Greg called, and Mycroft simply nodded his farewell before they both left through the portrait hole. John sat there for a little bit, and he couldn’t help but feeling hurt. He and Greg had always hung out on weekends, played quidditch, messed around, did homework, but now there was a brick wall named Mycroft in the way of their previous relationship. John guessed he’s just have to get used to that then. He sighed, deciding if he was going to have all this time to himself he better use it. He went upstairs, grabbing his broom from under his bed and heading outside, where a lot of students were strolling around, walking and talking. John kicked off form the ground, soaring around the grounds, skimming mist off of the lake and brushing the bottoms of his sneakers against the roof of the towers. He was hovering, enjoying the scenery, when he noticed a group of people clustered around something. John tried to focus on what they were around, but he couldn’t make it out through all of the people. He moved closer, hoping that Sherlock was far away in the castle somewhere and not in the middle of that crowd. Now he could see that there was an overwhelming amount of green in the mass of black, so Slytherins, that could never be good. John swooped down lower, hoping no one would notice, but wondering how they ever could anyway, the broom was silent and it wasn’t like he had jingle bells on his socks or anything. There was a tree in the middle of the crowd, and it looked like someone was against it, another pointing their wand at the figure. A rush of panic flooded John, if that was Sherlock, he could actually be in real danger. The figure on the tree moved, and he saw dark curls on their head, Sherlock, definitely, no one else had hair like that in Hogwarts.
“Oh Sherlock, what have you done now?” John muttered, but he knew Sherlock probably hadn’t done anything wrong. He took his wand out and dived into the middle of the group, setting off a bang with his wand like Umbridge had used in class the one day, sending yellow sparks flying everywhere. The Slytherins parted, some diving out of the way, others strolling as if they knew this was coming. The one with the wand, John could now see was Anderson, a Slytherin bully that everyone, including his posy, hated. They just hung out with him because if they didn’t they make their life miserable. John landed his broom and slid off of it, making sure to keep it close in case anyone wanted to take it. It was Sherlock, held to the tree by enchantments, and what appeared to be makeup smeared on his face. He looked absolutely mortified, his cheeks were glowing and it wasn’t the blush that did it. John glared at Anderson, challenging him to defend himself for this.
“Ah, the knight in shining armor is here for his bride.” Anderson said happily, spreading his arms in sarcastic welcome. Sherlock wiggled, but he couldn’t move and his mouth appeared to be unable to talk. The Slytherins laughed at that, but John’s scowl deepened.
“Anderson, just let him go.” John sighed.
“But we did this for you, Sherlock wanted to look his absolute best for when you came, we helped a little bit.” Anderson added, more laughter.
“What did Sherlock do to deserve this?” John asked, adding amusement into his voice just to annoy Anderson. Inside though, anger was burning through him, wondering why he couldn’t stun every single one of them.
“Oh, he’s done more than you’d care to believe, he deserves every word or torment he receives.” Anderson growled, his voice dead serious. Sherlock was trying to defend himself by shaking his head and mumbling, but with a flick of Anderson’s wand he was quiet.
“Dumbledore will hear about this Anderson, and I guarantee he won’t be very happy with you.”
“Why do you bother with him John? Even I know you could do so much better, he’s a psychopath, everyone knows that, what do you gain by talking to him?”
“It’s a lot better than talking to you.” John said, and with that he flicked his wand, sending Anderson’s flying out of his hand. Sherlock was released, falling to the ground in a heap. John didn’t pause to think though; he mounted his broom and pulled Sherlock on with him, kicking off before the Slytherins had time to pull out their wands. There were red sparks flying up towards them, but they were too far gone now. He heard curses being yelled at them, but that’s all they could do now, yell. Sherlock clung to John for life, but he was silent this time, not a word uttered. At first John thought his mouth was still jinxed, which might cause some problems. John landed on the other side of the castle, letting Sherlock get off first, who just stood there. The look of Sherlock with makeup on should’ve been hilarious if it hadn’t been caused by Anderson and his gang of jerks. He had lipstick smeared off of his cupid bow lips, eye shadow engulfing his eyebrows, and blush making his cheek bones even more prominent. He looked mortified, embarrassed to even walk the earth anymore.
“You okay?” John asked nervously. Sherlock took a deep breath, opened his mouth to say something, and ran away. Just like that he took off to the castle, without a word of thanks to John.