Everyone drifted toward bed by degrees, the long day finally catching up with them.
Draco's arrival had scrambled the sleeping arrangements, so they spent ten minutes sorting it out. Four boys in one room was too cramped; pairs made more sense. Kevin ended up with Harry, as a matter of course.
But neither of them slept.
They lay in the dark with the curtains drawn against the streetlight, talking in the aimless, circular way that only happens late at night when there's no particular agenda.
"You'll be handling Potions for all seven years," Harry said. "That's not going to leave you much room, is it."
"Probably not," Kevin agreed.
He'd run through the numbers. Four years of teaching, he'd averaged two classes a day, sometimes three. Seven years of students meant three or four — more in exam years, when the fifth, sixth, and seventh years were all running parallel tracks. Hogwarts perpetually needed more staff than it actually had. He'd figured that out in his first semester.
Not that he minded. He'd trained himself to work hard for years now. He could handle it.
Harry went quiet.
That quietness had a shape to it — Kevin had learned to read the shapes of Harry's silences over years of shared rooms and shared danger. This one was about the future. Specifically, about the way it was going to pull them in different directions for the first time.
Post-graduation, Harry was going into Auror training. Kevin was staying. The years ahead would have fewer of these long, aimless nights.
"Harry," Kevin said.
"Yeah."
"Stop moping. We beat Voldemort. What exactly are you worried about?"
A pause. "…Fair."
The mood lifted. Harry moved on to Ginny — said they'd kissed. Properly. Had a date lined up. Things were going well. But Ginny always had to make the first move, and Harry wanted to change that, wanted to take charge for once rather than waiting for her to bridge the gap. He'd been watching Kevin for years and still couldn't quite figure out how to do it.
Kevin stared at the ceiling for a moment.
"Harry," he said, "I'm going to do you one favour. One. The rest is completely on you."
"What? What are you—"
Kevin was already out of bed.
"Get up. Make yourself presentable. Stay calm."
He was gone before Harry could ask another question.
He knocked on the door of the girls' room without hurrying.
The talking inside stopped immediately. Small, quick footsteps. The door opened a crack — Hermione, with Ginny visible over her shoulder, both clearly still awake and mid-conversation.
"Kevin?"
Hermione's voice was surprised. Then she read his expression and put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing?"
Kevin smiled at her, then shifted his attention to Ginny.
"Harry's asking for you. Wants to talk."
Ginny went very still.
Hermione, who had arrived at the correct conclusion approximately half a second earlier, drew in a breath and opened her mouth—
Kevin pulled her in by the arm and covered her mouth with his hand.
"Mmph. Mmph!"
She went rigid, hands coming up, tried to turn her head. He held firm.
"Hermione and I need to catch up as well," he said pleasantly, over the muffled protests. "Ginny — take your time."
Ginny stood in the doorway with her cheeks beginning to colour. She looked between Kevin, who was wearing an expression of absolute serenity, and Hermione, who appeared to be attempting to bite him.
She took a slow breath. Right. This was it. This was exactly the moment.
She set her chin, stepped past them, and knocked on Harry's door.
"G-Ginny? What—"
Harry's voice — startled, suddenly very awake. And then, just before the door swung shut, Kevin saw Harry's eyes find the open hallway, find him — and Kevin put his thumb up.
Your move, mate.
The door closed.
Kevin turned. He walked Hermione backward through the door she and Ginny had just vacated, stepping into the room quietly and letting the door click shut behind him.
Hermione stopped fighting. She turned to face him with an extremely specific glare — the one she reserved for occasions when she was half-annoyed and half-trying not to smile, and failing at both.
Kevin let go of her mouth.
She stood there for a moment, breathing, cheeks faintly pink.
"Pervert," she said at last, very quietly.
Kevin didn't contest this. He simply picked her up — one arm under her knees, one at her back, princess-style — and she gave a soft, startled sound and grabbed his shoulders by reflex.
"What are you—"
He kissed her cheek. Then again, just beside the corner of her mouth. She went very still, biting her lower lip, and looked at him with eyes that were trying to be stern and not quite managing it. Her fingers tightened slightly in his collar.
Mrs. Granger's guidance had been, after all, quite explicit on the subject of what was and wasn't appropriate after sixteen with parental permission.
He leaned in again.
The next morning:
Ron and Draco stumbled onto the landing, blinking against the light, finding two doors still closed across the corridor.
"Kevin and Harry still sleeping?" Draco squinted at one door.
"Should've been up by now," Ron muttered, and grabbed the handle.
Locked.
He rattled it a few times, uncomprehending. "Why lock the door just to sleep?"
"Ron—" Harry's voice from inside, strained and slightly strange.
"Rise and shine! Why've you locked it?"
A longer pause. "We'll be down in a minute. Go ahead."
Draco and Ron exchanged a look. Shrugged. Headed downstairs, where Dobby had laid out what could only be described as a monument to breakfast.
Neither of them had thought to wonder about the silence from the other room.
Some time later, Harry emerged from his room first and padded quietly to the stairs. Kevin appeared from the adjacent door at almost exactly the same moment. Their eyes met. They both retreated two steps back. A beat passed.
Then Hermione and Ginny came out together, quietly, from the same room.
The four of them reconvened on the stairs as though nothing had happened, walking down to breakfast with the slightly deliberate normalcy of people who were absolutely not thinking about anything in particular.
Crookshanks met them at the bottom landing and regarded the entire group with ancient, cynical wisdom.
They were, all four of them, perfectly fine. It had been a completely normal night, and a completely wonderful one, and nobody needed to explain anything to anyone.