When John woke up he had no idea what time it was, he just prayed it was early enough to make it to class without being questioned. Sherlock was laying out across the box that he was sitting on, his feet pressed to the back wall and his head dangling, which seemed pretty dangerous. John’s back hurt terribly, he could only imagine this was what it was like to get old. He sat up, his back cracking unnaturally loudly, making John cringe. He hated it when bones cracked, especially major ones, like necks and backs. Sherlock didn’t budge, but John found it funny that his head was practically hanging upside down. His mouth was hanging open, as if he had been snoring, and his hair dangled down. He looked like a little kid, unlike when he was awake, where he was too mature to be normal. It was kind of satisfying to see him as the kid he actually was. John didn’t know how to wake him up, and if the enchantment on the door was still active, so he just tapped Sherlock’s feet with his own. At first Sherlock didn’t budge, but after the third kick he sprang to life, swinging his head up quickly.
“What the heck?” Sherlock asked suddenly. He saw John laying on the floor and he seemed to remember what had happened the previous night. Immediately he muttered something, making the door disappear. The hallway was dimly lit, as if it was just becoming morning, which was perfect. Filch was curled in a little ball in the hallway, fast asleep, along with Mrs. Norris, who John could only hope was dead.
“We’re good.” Sherlock decided. John nodded, returning his jacket to him and getting to his feet shakily. He stretched out, feeling like all of his muscles had shrunken.
“Okay, we’re going to make a run for it. I’ll see you at the Great Hall.” Sherlock decided. John nodded, getting ready to run. Sherlock opened the door slightly, making them both cringe as the old hinges squeaked. Thankfully neither Filch nor Mrs. Norris showed any signs of waking up.
“Go!” Sherlock hissed, and John took off down the hall, his bag flopping on his side, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. He heard Sherlock run after him, and they reached the staircase, John jumping three at a time, hoping no one but Sherlock was on his tail. He doubted Filch could run very fast, him being old and having a limp. When John made it to the third floor, where the common room was, he put on another speed to the Portrait hole. The Fat Lady was asleep, leaning up against her frame and snoring loudly. John didn’t see Sherlock anywhere, so he must have already made it to the Slytherin common room.
“Pig snout!” John said loudly. The Fat Lady woke with a start, looking around until she finally spotted John standing in front of her.
“Where have you been all night?” she asked in surprise.
“Long story.” John muttered.
“You better not have been with a girl, or Professor Dumbledore will hear about this!” she said. John doubted she’d ever ratted anyone out about anything, she spent her days singing.
“No, I was out, and Filtch almost caught me, and then I hid in a closet and he slept outside it, vowing to catch me when I got out, so I had to spend the night in there.” John explained quickly. The Fat Lady rolled her eyes, warning him not to do it again, and opened the door. John climbed safely inside of the common room, thankful that she didn’t ask too many questions. The common room was deserted, which meant everyone was still asleep. John was very relieved about that, he didn’t want to have to answer a million questions. He crept up to his dorm, where all of the boys were asleep, so he pulled out a fresh pair of robes and changed into them quickly. After making sure his homework was done, he lay in his bed and sighed. That had been the most interesting situation he had ever been in, he had never spent a night in Hogwarts away from either the dorms or the Hospital Wing, and it wasn’t something he’d like to repeat. Even though he had slept, he felt terrible. After a little while, the other boys, including Greg, started to stir. As soon as his eyes opened, Greg looked towards John’s bed, and exhaled in relief.
“Where in the world have you been.” He muttered sleepily. John turned his head, looking at his friend with a sort of smile.
“It’s a long story.” John shrugged.
“Tell me now or I’ll assume the worst.” Greg pointed out. After John’s explanation, Greg seemed to understand why he wasn’t there, but Joh could tell he was a bit disappointed, as if John should’ve taken the risk and jinxed Filtch and saved the day or something. But Greg was very amused to hear that John had learned to dance, which only led to John pestering Greg about who he was taking.

                The dance approached sluggishly, John just couldn’t wait. His days were filled with picturing himself twirling around the dance floor with Mary, laughing and having the time of their lives. Greg was going with Mycroft, which John was a little bit nervous about, Anderson and Jim would give him hell if they saw them dancing together. Sherlock, to John’s surprise, had become more distant, still sitting next to John but not starting any conversations. He still answered John’s questions, but in as little words as possible. He still didn’t have a date to the dance, which surprised John. Sure he was an antisocial creep, but he was definitely attractive enough to get someone to want to dance with him. He kept insisting that he didn’t have any interest in girls, so eventually John just let the subject go. The dance was Saturday night, which was awful, because quidditch tryouts were Friday night. That approached way too quickly, making the classes zip past like they were on fast forward, and before John knew it, he, Greg, and the rest of the team were making their way down to the field. He had his broom in his hand, obviously the best in the entire lineup, and he was almost guaranteed a spot, but John’s stomach still twisted, there was always that what if. He didn’t recognize a good number of people, most were hopeful second years. The captain this year was James Sholto, the head Chaser in seventh year. He was popular among the Gryffindors but all of the other houses hated him since he was so good at quidditch and he wasn’t afraid to foul anyone. John and Greg both did their best, and John was delighted to see that there was only one scared looking second year trying out for seeker, and they had a Shooting Star broom. Although John was determined to beat him, he made sure to share some tips and tricks, which made the second year look a less nervous, even though in the drills John creamed him. Greg’s keeper position wasn’t even a question, he didn’t miss a single shot and he was able to throw the quaffle with dead accuracy. The pitch was alive with Gryffindors, all in maroon and gold, shooting around the field; it truly was an amazing sight to see for John, who had missed this sport ever since the season was over. When tryouts were over, the team had a quick meeting about the responsibilities and practice times. John had almost memorized this speech, which McGonagall, being head of Gryffindor house, had written herself ages ago. He could remember himself standing on the field four years earlier, gripping his broom tight and staring at all the intimidating other kids all standing above him. Second year was so much better for him than first, because he had made the team as Seeker, which the team was in dire need for, and he fit the position. When they were dismissed, John and Greg helped catch the bludgers and collect the balls and bats, stuffing them all in the quidditch trunk. James said that he could handle it from there, so they left the pitch together, going over how they did and their expectations for the team. That night the common room was alive with celebrations, some seventh years managed to steal from the kitchens so there was food and drink everywhere, people celebrating tryouts and wishing everyone good luck. John and Greg ate their fill and went up to the dorms together.
“So, what are you going to wear to the dance?” Greg asked, sitting on his bed with his back against the head board.
“My dress robes, what else?” John asked. He had already laid them out, folded them, made sure they were smooth, and smelled alright.
“Well I didn’t know whether you wanted to be a rebel or not, wear a dress or something.” Greg shrugged.
“What are you wearing?” John asked.
“My dress robes, what else?” Greg asked in a horrible impression of John’s voice.
“I can’t wait, this is going to be the best night ever!” John said, a smile growing on his face.
“Don’t get too excited, wonder if up close she looks like a troll?”
“Like Mycroft?” John asked. Greg scowled at him, but John just laughed, congratulating himself on his quick thinking.
“Who’s Sherlock going with?” Greg asked.
“He claims he has no interest in dances and girls and would much rather spend his time in the library.” John said.
“Does he have any interest in guys?” Greg asked.
“I don’t think he’d like you anyway.”
“No, no, not me, I thought maybe you two would make a good couple though.” Greg pointed out.
“That’s just disgusting!” John defended.
“Oh come on, you have to admit you liked practice dancing with him.” Greg pointed out.
“Um, no, I just did that because I had to if I didn’t want to look like an idiot.” John pointed out.
“Too late for that.” Greg decided.
“While dancing with Mary, who I really like, and I don’t like Sherlock or anyone else in general.” John declared. Greg just raised his eyebrows knowingly. John was about done with him, throwing his pillow from his bed and hitting his friend in the face.
“Don’t run from destiny John!” Greg sang sarcastically.
“Oh shut up!” John groaned, taking back his pillow, which had fallen on the floor. “Sherlock wouldn’t like me if it was the last thing he did anyway, not that I like him.” John added.
“I think he could be persuaded, I mean, every time I blink one of you is doing something to save the other, like jumping off a broom stick and breaking their own leg.”
“That was my fault, I pushed him to go way too fast, I couldn’t let him die!” John pointed out.
“No, of course not, but still, he stayed at your bedside for the entire day, even Mycroft couldn’t make him move.”
“Well I guess that was pretty convenient, you got to get rid of both of us at once.” John teased. Greg blushed a little bit, smiling. “Seriously how many times have you two kissed?”
“I don’t count, I’m not a creeper!” Greg defended.
“Oh come on, I know you do, tell me.” John pestered, smiling as Greg got even redder.
“Okay, seven.” Greg admitted.
“Oh you two are like little love birds, it’s adorable! And also sickening.” John added.
“And how many times have you kissed Mary?” Greg asked.
“What type of question is that, we just met!” John pointed out.
“Exactly, so leave me alone.” Greg said.
“What are the Slytherins going to do when they see you two?”
“Do what they always do, torture us, but I don’t care.” Greg insisted.
“And what about the teachers, do they even know about this?” John asked.
“Well, no, but I guess we’ll find out now right?” Greg pointed out.
“I don’t want you to get tormented, I’ve seen firsthand what Anderson will do, just ask Sherlock.” John pointed out.
“I can get out of things better than he can.” Greg said positively.
“He’s been through so much, I doubt that.” John pointed out.
“He couldn’t have dealt with more than bullying.”
“He told me, and I can tell you he’s been through much more than a kid his age should have.”
“What then?”
“I can’t tell you, I told him I wouldn’t.” John pointed out.
“Fair enough.” Greg agreed.
“I just wish there was something I could do to help him through, because I still don’t think that he knows I’m here for him, he thinks he’s alone in this world when he’s not.” John pointed out.
“Sha-la-la-la my-oh my, go on and, kiss the boy!” Greg sang, making John want to pull out his wand and jinx him.
“Other than that.” John said through clenched teeth.
“Oh look at you blushing.” Greg said in a voice that sounded like he was talking to a baby.
“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you.” John decided.
“Because no one else will listen to your drama problems.” Greg pointed out. John rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself from smiling. It was true, he hated to admit it, but Greg was the only one John trusted enough to talk to about things like this. Except maybe Sherlock, but John didn’t have any deep secrets to share with him, nothing as deep as killing your own brother. Sure John had had some crushes in the past, those were maybe the deepest secrets he had, and he knew Sherlock would have no interest in those. He knew all of Greg’s past crushes, all of his hit list, everything that went on in his best friend’s head, and Greg knew all of that from John as well.
“I’m going to bed.” John decided, looking outside to see the moon settling in.
“It’s only nine o’clock!” Greg pointed out.
“I don’t want to be tired tomorrow.” John decided, getting up and changing into his pajamas. Greg sighed, but did the same, getting under his own covers. John buried his head in his pillow and fell asleep very easily, the relief from tryouts helping him along.