Hermione spoke more quietly. "I don't believe you think I'd care about a thing like that."
"Not exactly, but still..." Ron stood up straighter. "You remind me that I'm not rich, and I don't like it."
"When have I ever reminded you of a thing like that? I'm not rich either, in case it's slipped your mind. Dentistry isn't exactly arbitrage!"
"What?" Ron scowled. "The tip, all right? Like I can't afford to leave a few coins on the table. Or telling me you found the most marvellous second-hand bookshop which carries all the seventh-year texts. Or--"
"You tipped that waitress too much because you couldn't stop ogling her! And what's wrong with me wanting to get three times as many books as I could get for the same price in Flourish and Blotts?" Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "Ronald Weasley, if you think I care a hoot about how much money you have or don't, then we really should break up!"
"I don't want to break up!"
"You don't?" Hermione blinked, her eyes suddenly misty as her hands fell to her sides. "I mean, I sort of thought we already were."
"Well that's not turning out so well either, is it?" asked Ron, reaching out to grab one of her hands and pull her close. "I'm sorry I looked at the waitress that way."
"I'm sorry I talk too much about Dr- Dr- Draco!" Hermione swiped her free hand across her eyes. "Harry's just so happy, you know? And I didn't see that in time last time, and I want him to know I'm done trying to get him to renounce his family, even if it has to include a stuck-up self-important vain Muggle-hating arse like Draco Malfoy! Oh! I mean Draco Snape!"
"It's all right," Harry said dryly. "Look, I think you two need a few moments alone. So I'm going to wait around the corner, all right? By that Quidditch shop."
He'd barely finished speaking before Ron had pulled Hermione into his arms and was kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Definitely time to make an exit. Third wheel and all that.
Not that he planned to go far. He headed down the alley away from the main street through town, and when he came out into the back street, found himself alongside the Quidditch shop just as he'd expected. Just two steps to the right and he couldn't see Ron and Hermione any longer. That was good. By then they were pressed so close together they looked like a single person. Thank goodness he was far enough away from them to not hear anything. He had a feeling they weren't exactly being quiet, down there.
When he'd said to kiss and make up he had more of a peck in mind, but this was good, he supposed. Actually, it made sense. All that hostility had been covering an attraction just as intense.
Harry turned his attention to the display in the shop window. Hmm, Firebolt Special Edition. Two feelings assailed him at once. That ache of wanting to see Sirius again. But also a longing to play Quidditch even if it would mean kicking Ginny out of Seeker position.
"I thought that was you," said a friendly voice alongside him.
Harry glanced up, startled, at Nott. He hadn't heard the other boy arrive, which showed how lost he'd gotten in thoughts of his Firebolt.
"So what happened to the glasses?"
"Oh, I might not need them any longer," said Harry, shrugging. He thought of explaining further but decided not to bother. "What happened to Zabini and Greengrass? I thought you were going around with them today."
"They're in line for a palm-reading." Nott rolled his eyes. "As if we didn't get enough of that in Divination to cure us of it. Actually it's just Daphne who wanted her future told, but Blaise is a little bit soft on her, I think, so he said he'd have his palm read, too. So, anything good in here?"
"The new broom doesn't look half-bad."
Nott quickly looked left and right, then spoke in a voice that was barely audible, even though he and Harry were completely alone on the street. "Just as well I spotted you. I found something else out, Potter. About that thing you were asking about."
It only took Harry a second to follow. He lowered his own voice as well. "The Slytherin Plague, you mean?"
"Shh, shh!" Nott made a frantic gesture with his hand. "Yeah, that." A couple of students crossed the far end of the street; Nott jumped back into the shadows, his voice shaking as he whispered, "I can't risk anyone seeing me alone with you. Because you have to tell your father tonight what I found out, and after that my life won't be worth that if they find out I was the one to unravel the whole thing." The other students were gone by then; Nott relaxed a fraction, though his gaze kept darting back and forth. "I shouldn't even tell you. What's it to me if Malfoy never knows the truth? Why should I risk my neck for him?"
"Snape will protect you; I swear he will," Harry said urgently, even as he kept his voice low. "We can go straight back and you can tell him, whatever it is."
"Ha. It's risk enough talking to you." Nott sighed. "But the alternative might be worse. I need a way out. I'll tell you." Nott edged to the side and slipped into a vacant space between two buildings. "Come on in here where it's less exposed."
Harry glanced back towards the alley where Ron and Hermione were no doubt still kissing, but it wasn't like he was going to be far. He'd be within earshot, and Nott hardly looked likely to try anything. And even if he did, Harry could handle it. Not even a summoning charm on his wand would matter, not considering he didn't need it anyway.
He stepped between the buildings and followed Nott down a few yards. "So, what did you find out? What really happened?"
Nott stopped walking and turned around, his wand in hand, already speaking an incantation as he whirled. "Conflagrare manem!"
Harry screamed as his entire right hand went up in flames. It wasn't normal fire; he knew that at once. It seemed centred on the ring he'd been wearing ever since he'd gone back to classes. Searing pain flashed through the finger wearing it, and through the leaping flames, Harry saw his ring melting. Molten gold began dripping across his skin. Instinct had him shaking his hand to try to put the fire out, or at least get the blazing hot droplets off him. Not that the manoeuvre did him any good, it just spread the tracks of liquid metal into wider streaks and actually seemed to feed the flames.
Desperate to put the fire out before his hand burned off completely, Harry dropped to hands and knees and began slapping his hand against the dusty ground, front then back, again and again.
The pain of that was unbelievable, but at least it worked. In just a few seconds he'd managed to extinguish the fire.
He glanced up to see Nott's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "You should have heard that stupid traitor's letters to the Muggleborns in Slytherin, Potter. One after another, all about how you wouldn't grovel to the Dark Lord. How you had too much pride and we should all throw our lot in with yours. But you're grovelling now, aren't you? To me."
Harry felt like he might black out from the pain still washing through his hand, but he knew he couldn't afford to be weak. Pushing shakily to his feet, he drew his wand with his left hand and prepared to hex Nott into a puddle of mush.
When he tried to cast a spell, though, nothing happened. For a second he couldn't understand why not. Then he realised he was looking down his arm at his fingers, but there wasn't any ring, not on his left hand.
Horrified, Harry glanced at his injured right hand, seeking a snake there, but it had long since melted. In fact, it looked as though the fire had consumed the metal completely. His skin from fingertip to wrist consisted of blackened flesh dotted with broken-open blisters, the whole of it coated with dust and dirt. But of his mother's ring there was absolutely no trace.
"No," breathed Harry, the single word anguished.
"No snake," corrected Nott, snarling, his earlier apprehension gone now that it had served its purpose. "Yeah, without one you're helpless, aren't you now? That's why your damned bodyguards were always hanging about. They knew your secret."