dig

Smoke
Hetre Z

Hermione on the Hogwarts Express, a thin, white tube between her fingers. Ron makes a grab for it, and she pulls her hand away.

Ron says, "what."

"Nothing." Hermione puts part of the tube in her mouth.

"Is it candy?" There's smoke coming out of it, and it smells funny, like Floo powder. Maybe Fred and George gave it to her.

"No, it's," she looks at the tube, rolling it over her thumb. "Not candy. Doesn't even taste nice."

Maybe it's a spell they're going to learn this year. "Can I try some?"

Hermione smiles. She breathes in around the little tube, her eyes half-closed, and then breathes out into his face, leaning forward in the seat, smoke coming out of her like she's a dragon. Maybe the white things turn you into a dragon. He imagines Hermione with scales on her nose, and wings. His fingers itch.

-

The fire Hermione makes this year is a bright, thick, syrupy green. It dribbles off the end of her wand and smokes on the floor like acid.

"Ugh," Ron says. "Slytherin."

Hermione drips a bit of fire onto her little tube, and breathes through it so the end turns orange. "It's a rather nice color," she says. "Pity."

"Yeah. Another thing that git's ruined for us."

She trails her arm along the wall, charming glow-worms to crawl after it. They're faint in the daylight, and look slimy. "I don't know. Professor Snape's not --"

"No, of course he isn't. Like Vicky."

Hermione looks down, and breathes through her tube again, in short, sharp breaths that don't seem to fill her lungs at all.

-

"It's called smoking," Ginny says, looking smug. "It's Muggle. Hermione told me about it."

Ron asks, "What does it do?"

"Ask her."

Ron makes a list of all the words he'll ask Hermione about: bay root, president, Martin Luther, smoking, pence, metal music, ebola, talkies, charm bracelets. Ginny leans over his shoulder and crosses out "bay root", writing "Beirut" in its place.

"It's a city," she says. "Swallow your R a bit when you say it." When Ron looks at her, she shrugs. "Hermione told me, last summer."

-

"They're beetle sweets," Harry says. "I bought them on the train. Try one."

The beetle is huge in Ron's hand, as tall as his thumb and savage-looking. He brings it up to his face, and its feelers click ominously. "I don't think it wants me to." The beetle is the same color as Harry's eyes. Ron doesn't want Harry's eyes in his mouth.

"Just try it," Harry says.

Ron puts the beetle in his mouth. It tastes sweet, and slightly yellow, and walks slowly past his front teeth, tickling him. He smiles and says, "tastes good," and the beetle falls out onto his lap, wings half-melted and one leg gone. It starts buzzing angrily, and Harry picks it up and eats it.

"Hey," Ron says, "that was just."

Harry says, "Yeah, it was." His tongue is faintly green, like his eyes have spilled over onto the rest of him.

-

Ron wakes because Harry is crying, quietly and without energy, in his sleep. The dorm room smells of dust and he is reminded, suddenly, of Grimmauld Place, of the end of summer when Harry was with them. He would get up while Ron pretended to sleep, rubbing his face and breathing funny, and the next morning he'd be asleep on the couch, with Professor Lupin or Ron's mum in a chair beside him.

Harry says, "Sirius," softly. Ron walks over to his bed, and puts a hand on Harry's arm. "Sirius," he says again, and Ron says "yeah" and leans over.

Harry's mouth is sticky with salt and beetle sweets. He doesn't open his eyes, but lets Ron wipe his face off and smooth down his hair, like Ron's mum used to do when he was sick. He thinks about kissing Harry again, but Harry's already quiet so he doesn't need to. Ron wonders what Professor Lupin is doing.

-

The rounded hats Muggles have make no sense. "I look like a nutter," he says, watching himself in the mirror.

Ginny says, "It's fashion. Muggles wear them all the time." She turns him toward her. "Here, it's crooked."

If you're going to wear something shaped exactly like your head, he thinks, there's no point in wearing anything at all. Ginny called it a tocque, and leaned her face close to his to pull it over his head. It makes his ears itch.

"You look handsome. Hermione'll love it."

"Okay, you do know Hermione's a witch, yes? I mean, she's been going to Hogwarts for a few years, d'you think she maybe likes, I dunno, wizards? That wear wizard things?" Ginny's nose is almost touching his, and she doesn't answer but she smiles.

-

He finds Malfoy under a tree one day, singing. Malfoy's voice is thin and high and sharp, like lemons. He sings, oh your daddy's rich, and your ma is good looking, and doesn't look up as Ron walks over.

Malfoy's face seems to rearrange itself when he's singing. It's just as sharp, but different, like an arrow pointing the other way. He looks almost happy. Ron says, "You know, that's a Muggle song."

"Liar." Malfoy looks at him, and bares his teeth. "My mother learned this from her cousin. My family are all purebloods." He looks unreal in the sunlight, pale and triangular. When he gets up and walks away he moves like a mechanical doll.

-

The common rooms smells of ashes and Floo powder, though the fire is out. Ginny is sitting on an armchair, the neck of her robe pulled down so low that Ron can see her collarbone. He breathes in.

"Did you borrow Hermione's smokings?"

"Cigarettes," Ginny says. "The white things are cigarettes, and you smoke them." She hitches up the neck of her robe. "I've got my own."

Ron nods. "Is it perfume?"

Light from the window falls on Ginny's face, making one side look bigger than the other. "I thought you were going to ask her."

Ron looks down. Ginny is barefoot. Her second toe is longer than her big toe, and the nails are colored bright red. "I've been busy."

-

Christmas of third year, Ron's father brought home a Muggle cheese grater. Ron snagged his thumb on it one time, and could almost hear the skin rip as he pulled his hand away. Blood ran down his arm.

He stands over Malfoy, waiting for a reason to hit him again, and says, "Take it back." McGonagall will give him detention, maybe a month of it, but it's worth it, he thinks.

Malfoy smiles. His teeth are pink, and he looks like he's wearing lipstick. He says, "no," very quietly.

Ron frowns and lowers his arm. Malfoy's tongue is too pale, the wrong color for his mouth. Ron wonders what he'd look like if he were smoking.