Gabriel climbed the last flight of stairs, the corridor cool and quiet in the early hour. His hair was still damp from his morning bath, and steam rose faintly from his skin in the chill of the castle air. He wore a simple white tank top and grey sweatpants tucked into scuffed boots, the familiar Ravenclaw scarf looped loosely around his neck. The soft blue fire of the Bluebell Flames shimmered across his body - rings, armlets, and bracelets of living light dancing around his wrists and fingers, a faint halo crowning his head.
He slowed as he neared the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Most of the portraits had been taken away for their fear of Sirius Black coming back, leaving the walls oddly bare. Only one painting remained: that of a proud, middle-aged knight standing atop a rocky outcrop, his armor gleaming, red cape billowing heroically behind him, a longsword resting point-down before him.
"Good morning, Sir Cadogan," Gabriel greeted, bowing slightly.
The knight sprang to life at once, puffing out his chest. "And a good morning to thee, my gallant young friend! How fare thee upon this brisk dawn?"
"Quite well, Sir," Gabriel replied, smiling. "I slept soundly - listening to the beat of the wind upon the castle walls and the patter of the storm against my window."
"Ha! A storm-lover, are you? So was Morgana, curse her blackened heart! Dreary woman, that witch - once conjured a tempest that shrouded all Camelot for near a month before Merlin himself dispelled it!"
"Truly?" Gabriel's eyes glinted with mischief. "Do you happen to know the spell she used? I'd quite like to make something like that over my own home."
"Madness! Utter madness!" bellowed Cadogan, stamping a booted foot upon his painted stone. "Mark my words, young lad - follow not in the steps of that wayward sorceress! Naught but ruin lies down that path!"
Gabriel chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, Sir." Then, tilting his head, he added with a teasing curiosity, "You know, it's fascinating hearing you speak of your time - but now I wonder. Have you kept the skills you had in life? Could you teach me the ways of a knight?"
"Why, of course I could!" cried Cadogan proudly, raising his sword high. "Honor! Chivalry! Loyalty! Bravery! Piety! I have mastered them all, and could pass their wisdom to the next generation with great delight! Dost thou wish to become my squire, Child of Ravenclaw?"
"Well…" Gabriel's grin widened. "What about martiality?"
"Martial-? Ah! The clash of steel, the dance of blades!" Sir Cadogan lifted his sword dramatically… then froze. "I- er- well... Alas!" He lowered it with visible deflation. "My fleshy self, fool that he was, did not bequeath to me his magnificent combat prowess before his untimely demise. A most grievous oversight, I assure you."
"How unfortunate," Gabriel said with mock solemnity, then smiled. "But don't feel bad, Sir. The things you can teach are just as valuable - perhaps more so - than swinging a sword or thrusting a lance. I was only curious to see what one of the legendary Knights of the Round was capable of."
"If that is the case," said Cadogan, perking up again, "why not ask one of the armors?"
Gabriel blinked, glancing toward the four suits of armor displayed near the common-room entrance. "What do you mean?"
"Oh? Has this generation forgotten the glory of Hogwarts' Army?" boomed the knight, sounding both scandalized and delighted. "Those armors were enchanted by Lord Godric himself - to bear his own mastery of arms! And later improved by Merlin, who wove within them the skill of every knight of the Round Table!"
"Really?" Gabriel breathed, his eyes lighting up as he turned to inspect them.
Three of the armors immediately straightened, puffing their chests in proud metallic unison. The fourth awkwardly lifted a gauntleted hand and scratched the side of its helmet, as if embarrassed by the attention.
"So-" Whatever Gabriel had been about to ask Sir Cadogan was cut short as the portrait swung open, the enchanted frame lifting him slightly aside to make way. From the warm light of the Gryffindor common room stepped the person he'd been waiting for.
Hermione emerged bundled against the November cold, the soft glow of the fire behind her haloing her hair. She wore a thick wool coat of deep red over a warm orange jumper, her scarf wrapped neatly around her neck. Crookshanks lounged lazily in her arms, purring like a tiny furnace against the storm's chill that howled faintly through the corridors.
"Morning, 'Mione!" Gabriel greeted, his grin so wide it almost split his face. He didn't even hesitate - he swept her off her feet in a sudden hug, spinning her once before setting her back down, laughing as she squeaked in surprise.
"And hello, Crookshanks," he added once he'd put her down, scratching the ginger cat gently on the head. Crookshanks answered with a judgmental 'mrrrow', tail flicking.
"Good morning, Gabriel," Hermione said warmly, her smile soft but her cheeks still pink from the cold - and perhaps a bit from being picked up. Then, glancing around, she asked curiously, "Who were you talking to?"
"With me, young lady!" came a boisterous cry from behind her.
Hermione jumped nearly out of her boots, turning to see the knight in the painting puffing out his chest. Gabriel burst out laughing.
"Sir Cadogan was telling me the most interesting things about his time - and about Hogwarts itself," Gabriel explained with a grin to a now-very-intrigued Hermione. Then, turning back toward the portrait, he added with a respectful nod, "Thank you for the company, Sir. But I think I'll be taking the lady to breakfast now."
"Think nothing of it, lad!" bellowed Cadogan cheerfully, striking a heroic pose. "'Tis the duty of a knight to stand his vigil - Sir Cadogan remains ever watchful!"
Gabriel chuckled and waved, leading Hermione by the hand down the staircase.
"What were you two talking about?" Hermione asked after a moment, her tone trying for casual but not hiding her curiosity - or the blush that still lingered on her cheeks.
Gabriel grinned down at her. "Curious, my lady?"
That only deepened her blush; she ducked her face into her scarf and Crookshanks' fur, hiding her flustered smile.
"You're so adorable," Gabriel cooed, stopping mid-step to hug her again. He leaned in to plant a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, then a soft peck on her lips. She gave a token protest but melted into the kiss anyway, returning it before resting her forehead against his chest. His own forehead rested lightly against the top of her bonnet.
"Your puffy hair is back," he noted merrily, twirling one of her curls around his finger.
She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Not even Sleekeazy can manage it with all the humidity in the castle right now," she muttered.
"Well, I for one welcome the return of my frizzy lioness," he teased.
"That's because you're not the one who has to deal with it," she sniffed, then gave his thick black hair a pointed look. "Yours is always perfect, and you never do anything with it besides tying it up when it gets in your way. Do you even use anything on it?"
Gabriel gave a smug, mock-haughty snort, running his hand through his dark locks with a shit-eating grin.
"Soap," he said solemnly. "Sometimes."
Hermione groaned, pressing her face against his chest in exasperation. "That's so unfair," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.
Gabriel's laughter rumbled warmly above her head.
Hermione pulled back just far enough to glare up at him. Gabriel's eyes crinkled with amusement, his grin unrepentant as he leaned in again for another kiss.
She gave a little huff and turned her head aside at the last second so he only got her cheek. His grin widened - mischievous, almost daring - and instead he dipped lower, brushing his lips against the soft point just between her ear and jawline.
Hermione shivered, a surprised squeak escaping her before she jumped back with a scandalized glare and a deep blush. Gabriel merely blinked at her with the most innocent face he could muster.
"Oh, you-" she began, but only rolled her eyes and started down the stairs, hiding her flushed cheeks in her scarf. Gabriel followed, laughing quietly, and slipped his arm over her shoulders. She leaned into him despite herself, her expression somewhere between exasperation and affection.
"You still haven't said what you and Cadogan were talking about," she reminded him, side-eyeing him as they walked.
"Ah, well - swordfighting," Gabriel said, perfectly straight-faced.
"Swordfighting?" Hermione repeated, as if unsure she'd heard right.
"Swordfighting," he confirmed solemnly, nodding once.
"…Why?"
"Because sword fights," he said gravely, "are a man's romance."
Hermione stopped mid-step, stared at him, then groaned into her scarf. "You're such a boy."
He only laughed.
-~=~-
By the time breakfast was over, the Great Hall had emptied into a dull roar of chatter echoing down the corridors. Gabriel, Hermione, and Neville - who had joined them mid-eating and was proudly decked out in full Gryffindor colors - stood before the castle's main doors, staring out into the torrent that awaited them.
The rain lashed violently against the magical barrier that shimmered faintly across the threshold, sliding off in heavy sheets. The wind howled through the distant mountains, carrying with it the faint, rhythmic creak of the Forbidden Forest's swaying trees.
Gabriel sighed dramatically. "You know," he began, "we could just… not go. Spend the day inside. Read a good book in front of the fire, hot chocolate from the kitchens, a bit of Celestina Warbeck on the Wireless playing in the background…"
"I vote in favor," Hermione said immediately.
"I vote against," Neville said quickly, though he looked distinctly less confident as another gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. Still, he straightened his back, puffing himself up. "Come on, it's the first day of the Quidditch season!"
"Well, I'm sorry, Nev, but I can't possibly vote differently from my girlfriend, can I?" said Gabriel, voice brimming with false sympathy. "That makes it two votes in favor, one against."
"It's three against, actually," called a familiar voice from behind them.
Gabriel turned to see Ginny striding toward them, Luna trailing cheerfully at her side.
Ginny looked better than he'd ever seen her in the last year - healthier, stronger. Gone was the pallor that had lingered after the events with the Diary; her skin had regained its warm glow, making her freckles stand out like tiny constellations, and her fiery hair looked brighter than ever against the gray light filtering in from outside.
Luna, meanwhile, was for some reason the very vision of eccentric Gryffindor pride. She wore a red-and-gold jumper, a long striped scarf that nearly brushed the floor, and atop her head rested an updated version of last year's lion hat. The plush mane was fuller and more realistic now, and its painted eyes moved - slowly, dreamily - watching everything around her. Two small hearts, one red and one yellow, were painted on her cheeks.
Gabriel couldn't help smiling at the sight of them both.
Still, he really didn't want to go out and get wet.
"Unfortunately," Gabriel said with mock solemnity, "there's a size requirement for voting rights."
Ginny arched a brow. "I'm taller than your girlfriend and Neville," she pointed out dryly.
"She is," Neville agreed quickly.
"You are not," Hermione said at once, sounding personally offended.
Ginny's smirk only grew. She stepped closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermione - and sure enough, she was taller by at least two centimeters. Hermione immediately looked down, searching for a trick - heels, thicker soles, something - but Ginny's shoes were perfectly ordinary. The smirk turned triumphant.
"I meant age size," Gabriel corrected smoothly, pretending not to notice Hermione's pout.
"That doesn't even make sense," Neville said with a wry little smile.
"Stop trying to cheat the vote, Nev," Gabriel chided him with mock severity.
Neville gaped, arms flailing. "What-!?"
Gabriel barely managed to keep a straight face.
Then came a gentle tug on his tank top. He looked down - and froze. Luna stood beside him, looking up with her wide silvery eyes somehow wider than usual, her lower lip trembling just slightly, her expression a portrait of tragic innocence.
"Hnng!" Gabriel clutched his chest like he'd been struck by a curse. He turned pleadingly toward Hermione, who looked distinctly unimpressed.
"I can't believe you're falling for that," she said dryly, one brow raised, while Ginny snickered with an arm over her shoulders.
Gabriel tried looking away from Luna. Big mistake. When he glanced back, her eyes had gone watery and her lip was quivering.
"Don't do this…" he whispered under his breath, grimacing as he tried to fight the incoming doom.
"Pleeease?" she asked in a small, pitiful voice.
It was over.
Gabriel collapsed dramatically to his knees, clutching his heart. "I yield!" he groaned in defeat.
Hermione sighed, arms crossed and tone solemn. "You are a weak man, Gabriel. Weak."
Her words struck true. Gabriel let out a pained whine from the floor, while Ginny burst into laughter and Luna looked positively delighted with herself.