"Mycroft I told you, I'm fine!" Sherlock yelled, like last time assuming it was his brother that was knocking.

"It's John!" John called, maybe a little bit too loud, but there was silence.

"Come in!" he decided, and John opened the door cautiously. There were six beds lined against the wall, all looking the same, even though they were trashed. The last one though, had the curtains pulled around it, and Sherlock's eyes peered from the shadows within.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling the curtains back more so they could talk properly.

"I was looking for some homework help." John admitted, walking closer with an innocent smile.

"Well I'm here if you need me, what is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Everything." John shrugged, pulling his bag from his shoulder and sitting on the bed across from Sherlock's curtain cave.

"Oh god, don't do that, Sam will play Hell." Sherlock pointed out. "Come in here." he decided, scooting out of sight. John looked around nervously, knowing what Greg would say if he knew that John was about to climb into Sherlock's bed. But it was homework, that's all, totally innocent. John pulled the curtains back to see a stack of books and multiple Jolly Rancher boxes strewn along the blue quilt. Sherlock sat against the headboard, his knees brought up to his chest and a thoughtful, almost childish look on his face. The blue flame was returned, in the jar once again, but lighting up the cocoon of curtains and blankets in a dull blue light. John sat crisscrossed on the foot of the bed, pulling his books out of his bag while Sherlock pulled the curtains shut. There was plenty of room for both of them plus all the rubbish in the tent to sit comfortably, but it was still pretty much breaking every level of awkward John knew existed.

"I need to write a foot and a half about the Giant Wars." Joh decided.

"Oh, that was simple." Sherlock decided.

"No it's not; it's the bloody Giant Wars! Half of them have the same name and they don't seem to have a conflict except anger management problems." John groaned. Sherlock looked down at the books in shame, looking a bit hurt.

"Which is totally fine by the way, it's normal." John added, making Sherlock just smile sadly.

"Nice save." He laughed from behind the curtain of curls hiding his tilted face.

"I tried, that's what matters." John defended.

"Sure." Sherlock laughed. John dipped his quill in the ink, starting off the essay with as much filler as he could manage and still make it acceptable.

"So what do you have now?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing." John said truthfully.

"That's not very reassuring." Sherlock decided.

"No, it's not." John agreed.

"Put Bran the Bloodthirsty in there somewhere; mention how they fought over the Fist Rocks also." Sherlock suggested.

"I've never even heard of that name." John admitted.

"Have you been paying attention in class?" Sherlock asked.

"No of course not, have you?" John laughed.

"It may shock you, but yes." Sherlock pointed out.

"Why would you ever, more like how?" John asked.

"I want to pass my NEWTS." Sherlock admitted.

"Well I know that, but why do you need to, aren't you going to be a detective?" John asked.

"Well yes, but I still don't want to flunk in case I need to fall back here for a job." he pointed out.

"Fair enough, I guess." John shrugged, writing down what little he remembered from class.

"What happened with the Fist Rocks?" he asked.

"Come on, there was at least an entire day of information on that!" Sherlock groaned.

"Yes, and I probably played hangman with Greg." John pointed out.

"It's when Bran the Bloodthirsty set out to concur the largest rock formation in the mountains, and pushed the other leader, Golgomath, off of them to his death. Then he and his tribe moved in and haven't been defeated since." Sherlock explained. John copied it down, stretching the sentences as far as possible and writing as large as humanly possible.

"You're such a cheater." Sherlock decided with a small laugh, sounding more like a girly giggle than anything.

"You're the one that's helping me, just saying." John pointed out innocently. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, but the two of them, together, finished the Giant War essay, one on the Principles of Re-Materialization for McGonagall, and practiced the Aguamenti Spell, which is conjuring fresh water, into a sock Sherlock had put a water proof charm on. It was the most fun and most flirtation homework session John had ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and if Mary could see him now she's probably be jealous of this magical (literally) relationship they had between them. Sherlock knew pretty much everything about the classes from first to seventh year, which was all too much for one human brain to handle. They ate Jolly Ranchers, talked so much that they got terribly sidetracked and John spilled ink all over the quilt trying to impersonate Greg trying to catch a snitch, and Sherlock almost set the curtains on fire relighting the flame in the jar. Their bad moods from before, the bitterness that had been created by the presence of Mycroft, Greg, and the frigid wind, seemed to have disappeared. They seemed to be in their own world, just the two of them floating in time and space, ignoring anyone and everyone on the other side of the curtains.

"I forgot to mention that we have detention, by the way." John pointed out as he threw the wrapper to his tenth or eleventh Jolly Rancher at Sherlock, trying to aim for his hair but instead hitting him in the head. Sherlock groaned, now laying on the corner of the pillow with his feet resting overtop John's stack of long forgotten books.

"McGonagall?" he sighed.

"And we'll be with Moran and Moriarty too." John added.

"It'll be awful." Sherlock decided.

"Come on, where's the positivity?" John joked.

"Never had it, sorry." Sherlock shrugged.

"Don't worry, I know." John assured with yet another smile.

"McGonagall won't be all that bad, I hope." Sherlock decided.

"Definitely not as bad as Umbridge."

"I'm pretty sure McGonagall hated her as much as we do, maybe more. Wouldn't it be brilliant if she joined in the Rebellion?" Sherlock suggested, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"That would be pretty cool. I bet she has Zonko's products waiting around in her office." John laughed.

"Moriarty will give more Hell, it's kind of our fault that we're all there in the first place, I can't think of what he might do." Sherlock sighed.

"I'll be there, and even if I can't protect you, McGonagall will, I know she will."

"She's pretty house friendly though, she won't segregate because they're Slytherin." Sherlock objected.

"No, but she could get them in trouble because they were tormenting you, maybe they're the ones that need to see Dumbledore." John pointed out.

"You went to see Dumbledore?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not what I said, I said they need to." John corrected quickly.

"But in the context you used, you made it sound like you had gone to see him yourself." Sherlock said, his small smile turning to a look of worry.

"It was no big deal, Snape sent me instead of detention for pulling my wand on Moriarty." John muttered.

"You're okay though?" Sherlock clarified.

"Ya, he just, you know, wanted to talk." John shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

"About what?"

"Quidditch." John said quickly, the first thing to come to his mind that would sort of make sense.

"Quidditch?" Sherlock asked, the tone of his voice telling John he didn't believe the story for one second. He was playing with John, seeing how far he could stretch this pathetic lie.

"Yes, Quidditch, he was proud of the first game and wanted to know what exactly happened with the other seeker, who apparently went to one of the teachers calling for a rematch. He didn't like that I faked him out I guess."

"A reasonable story, but John I don't like people lying to me, trust me, I won't be mad at you for whatever it is." Sherlock assured. John took a deep breath, not knowing how to nicely put it.

"He wanted to talk to me about you." John shrugged nervously.

"Yes, I could guess that, what about me?" Sherlock asked. John didn't like to tell Sherlock, he wished he'd just keep his guessing his own theory's and leave John out of it.

"He just wanted to know that I knew about, you know, that, and that I'd be careful not to get you all worked up." John shrugged.

"So now the staff is worried about me. I'm an antisocial time bomb walking through their halls, and they feel the need to tell everyone that gets close to me to tiptoe around me." Sherlock sighed.

"No, that's not what it was, he just didn't want me spreading the facts around." John assured.

"What did you tell him about, us?" Sherlock asked. John had never really heard Sherlock refer to them as us, it was a nice assurance that he saw it the same way John did.

"Well, he asked." John shrugged. "So I told him." Sherlock cursed under his breath.

"And what about Umbridge, how do we know he won't go sharing his secrets with her?" Sherlock pointed out.

"He said he's perfectly okay with it, he doesn't share her views. If you ask me I think he might have had a history of guys." John added.

"You're implying that Dumbledore is gay?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.

"Ya, kind of." John shrugged.

"I'd say your right, Grindelwald was his childhood friend before his enemy and there's a bit of speculation there." Sherlock agreed, catching John by surprise.

"Just so you know I didn't listen to him, you don't scare me one bit." John assured. That was a lie, there was a nagging sensation in the back of his mind, whispering about the dream he had, about Sherlock's ability to blow his sky high after one little insult, whispering for him to run out of that dorm as fast as he possibly could.

"Then you're an idiot, because I definitely have something inside me John, something far from okay, stirring inside my blood that I think should land me in at least a science lab or a mental asylum." Sherlock decided.

"Don't say that Sherlock, you're not going anywhere except the Muggle world." John assured.

"I'd love to say you're right, but until they figure out what is going on with me I'm afraid I might be stuck here for a while. They don't want any gas leaks in the muggle world; they don't want me to blow the innocents up." Sherlock sighed; flicking a wrapper into the flame and watching it burn up with a bit of a troubled look.

"I'll stay with you then." John decided.

"I've got Mycroft to be my babysitter." Sherlock pointed out.

"But I'm sure you'd rather me than him." John added.

"Well, yes, but you'll be busy with your own life, with being an auror or whatever." Sherlock pointed out.

"That can wait, your health is more important by far." John pointed out.

"I guess we'll see where life takes us then, but thank you very much for offering." Sherlock decided, and he did look glad that John had the guts to actually offer that. John tried to ignore the time was now past five thirty, he wasn't hungry and he was having the best time he's had at Hogwarts in a while.

"I don't even think I want to be an auror, sure it will be fun, but super dangerous." John pointed out.

"You should go on to play quidditch, find a major league team, be the star seeker; you've got the makings to be a really good player." Sherlock suggested, but John just laughed.

"Compared to the ones out there I'm a cat chasing a fuzz ball on a string."

"You'll get better."

"If anyone will go to play for a team it'll be Greg, he's the best keeper I've ever seen." John pointed out.

"I guess Mycroft has heard the 'I'm a keeper' joke at least thirty times a day." Sherlock guessed.

"Almost guaranteed. He loves, well, loved, to use that to try to flirt, but usually he's a complete failure." John added.

"Have you ever had a past relationship?" Sherlock asked, making John get a little bit awkward.

"Here and there yes, nothing serious, I lived my life in the shadow of Mary." John pointed out.

"I guess that was a waste wasn't it?"

"She came up to me, the one who came first because I was stuck with that bloody door knocker, but she claimed that she didn't have time to tell me it was off, and that she and Charles had been in the flirty kind of half relationship for a while."

"Do you believe her?" Sherlock asked, sounding casual but John could tell he was burning on the inside. A flame that reminded him that he might be second to Mary in John's heart, that he could be replaced.

"Well yes, but it's a rubbish excuse. Anyway she's history now, I don't even double take when I see her." John shrugged.

"I guess that's good, you deserve more than a traitorous girl." Sherlock added. John was on the verge of pointing out that they were a sort of couple, and that Sherlock was definitely a lot better than any girl in the entire country of Britain, when a Mycroft sounding voice interrupted them.

"Sherlock are you in here? It's time for dinner; we don't want to leave Greg and John waiting." He called, making Sherlock groan.

"I'm not hungry, go away!" he called from within the curtains. John froze, not exactly sure what Mycroft would do. They were just talking, but being a big brother he would obviously assume the worst.

"Oh come on, you need to eat and be social, don't make me go alone." Mycroft sighed.

"You've got Greg, you'll be fine."

"And what of John, he'll be left alone if you don't come." Mycroft pointed out.

"Maybe he's not hungry either, just go away." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes with annoyance at John, doing a soundless impersonation of his brother. John smiled, trying his best not to laugh more than a chuckle.

"Oh come on, you're not a vampire...." The curtains flew open and the two shielded their eyes as natural light flooded their cocoon. Mycroft saw John first, his eyes widening.

"Hello John." he said, quickly overcoming his state of shock.

"We were just talking." John said quickly. Sherlock just groaned, obviously not wanting his brother to go poking around when the curtains were closed.

"I said I wasn't hungry Mycroft." He growled, trying to pull the blue and black fabric closed, but Mycroft held it tight.

"John, you must be." He decided. John didn't want to leave Sherlock; he was having such a great time. It was one of those rare occurrences where you're so comfortable about where you are and who you're with that you're willing to pour your soul out without blinking an eye.

"I really should eat something." John sighed. Sherlock seemed more upset about that than he was, but they both knew that, just like the walk, the moment was butchered by other people butting in where they should just stay away. John crawled off of the bed, stretching out his tight muscles and grabbing his bag, brushing off candy wrappers.

"What are those?" Mycroft asked, pointing to the colorful box of Jolly Ranchers.

"Muggle Sweets, I won't offer you one because I know it's much too tempting for you to eat my entire supply."

"How many have you eaten?" Mycroft asked.

"Not quite sure, you're welcome to count." Sherlock said, gesturing to the covered bed spread.

"Just get to dinner Sherlock, and comb your hair, you look like a caveman." Mycroft decided. John rather liked the look, like Sherlock had just gotten out of bed or something, his curls sticking up in all different directions.

"Come along John." Mycroft decided in a casual voice, strolling to the door and flicking his wrist for John to join him. John followed, praying he wasn't going to get the whole relationship with Sherlock speech by what felt like the millionth person.